Final Essay

Paige Harrisberger

Professor Jessica Pressman

ECL 305: Literature & Environment

9 May 2024

Reimagining History Through the Ocean

In Derek Walcott’s poem “The Sea is History,” published in 1979, the sea serves as more than just a physical entity; it embodies an archive of collective memory, a symbol of both hope and tragedy, and a metaphor for the complex history and identity of the Caribbean people. The poem is an invitation to reconsider conventional narratives of history and to explore the sea as a storage of collective memory and untold stories. Reading the poem this way challenges the traditional modes of historical studies that often prioritize written records and official accounts. In the past, academic scholarship has shown an evident terrestrial bias, overlooking the deep-rooted influence the ocean realm has on the human experience. In “The Blue Humanities,” published in 2013, written by John Gillis, he writes about addressing the shift to recognize oceans as driving forces in shaping global history. 

Derek Walcott’s poem “The Sea is History” dives into the belief that the sea embodies more than just physicality; it represents a reservoir of collective memory and a repository of untold histories. The title of the poem itself suggests that the sea is an archive of history, challenging traditional methods of historical documentation and interpretation. The lines “there was the sound/like a rumour without any echo” from the poem evoke a sense of mystery and ambiguity, inviting his readers to contemplate the complicated nature of historical truth and the complex relationship between memory and silence. The metaphor of a rumour, with its implications of hearsay and uncertainty, reflects the idea that history is often shaped by subjective interpretations and selective recollections. Like a rumour that spreads through word of mouth, historical narratives can be distorted or manipulated over time, leading to a snowball effect of conflicting accounts and obscured truths. Rumours are often unsubstantiated, subject to distortion, and easily forgotten, mirroring the malleability and fragility that is mirrored by historical narratives. This metaphor holds a significance in terms of Walcott’s cultural context, particularly within the Carribbean context, where oral tradition plays a crucial role in shaping collective memory and identity. In Caribbean history, colonial powers exerted significant control over the narratives that shaped perceptions of the region and its people. European colonizers, such as the Spanish, Portuguese, British, French, and Dutch, sought to portray their colonization efforts as aimed at civilizing and uplifting indigenous populations. They imposed their cultural, economic, and political dominance over the Caribbean islands, shaping the collective understanding of the region’s history in accordance with their own interests. Colonial powers often depicted their colonization efforts as noble endeavors. However, beneath the false appearance lay a blunt reality of exploitation, oppression, and domination. Colonial powers systematically stripped the natural resources of the Caribbean, exploiting indigenous labor and forcibly displacing entire communities to work on plantations and in mines. The transatlantic slave trade further intensified the exploitation and dehumanization of African peoples, who were forcibly transported to the Caribbean to work under brutal conditions on sugar, cotton, and tobacco plantations. Moreover, colonial powers implemented systems of racial hierarchy and discrimination that sustained social, economic, and political inequalities long after the end of formal colonization. Indigenous peoples and Africans were marginalized, disenfranchised, and subjected to violence and discrimination, while European settlers and their descendants enjoyed privilege, wealth, and power. 

The second part of the line I mentioned earlier, “without any echo,” further reinforces the idea of silence and erasure, suggesting that certain voices and perspectives may be lost or disregarded in the retelling of history. In the context of the poem, this silence may represent the voices of marginalized or oppressed communities whose experiences have been overlooked or silenced by dominant historical narratives. Moreover, the comparison to an echoless rumour implies a sense of hopelessness in attempting to uncover the full extent of historical truth. Just as an echo fades into silence, leaving behind only traces of its existence, so do the voices and memories of the past gradually disappear over time, leaving behind fragmented and incomplete accounts of history.​​​ The final line of the poem reads, “of History, really beginning.” The capitalization of the “H” in History holds significance, signaling to the gravity and universality of the concept being referred to. Capitalizing “History” raises it to a proper noun, giving it a sense of importance and authority. It suggests that History is not simply just a series of events but a profound and meaningful entity that shapes the trajectory of human civilization. Walcott may also be implying that History is an ongoing and evolving process, with each moment of time contributing to the overall narrative. In this sense, History is not static but dynamic, constantly being written and unwritten by different generations.  

These lines from Derek Walcott’s poem draw parallels to John R. Gillis’s ideas from “The Blue Humanities” by proving there is an evolving perception of the sea in a historical context. Gillis’s statement, “The historicization of the oceans is one of the most striking trends in the blue humanities. History no longer stops at the water’s edge,” demonstrates the growing acknowledgement of the ocean’s significance on human experience and culture. This recognition challenges the traditional land-centric views that historians have had and expands the inquiry past land and into the ocean. Since previous narratives have often overlooked seeing the sea as history, it signifies a departure from these ideas. By saying, “History no longer stops at the water’s edge,” Gillis is suggesting a reconfiguration of historical boundaries because what really are boundaries? The expansion of these invented historical borders can encourage scholars to look at the interconnectedness between land and sea, and not as separate entities. There is a fluidity and permeability to the human experience. The ocean allows for the exchange and interaction between continents and countries across the globe. He mentions these are the trends in the blue humanities, where the focus is not just in one field, but combining knowledge from multiple different fields to form a more comprehensive understanding of the relationship between humans and the oceanic environment. 

The historization of the oceans is a shift being made in terms of scholarly perspectives, and it is equally important to recognize the cultural dimensions of the sea. As Gillis emphasizes, “Sea stories, chanties, and marine painting are by no means new, but it is only recently that they have been subject to academic scrutiny.” This quote shows the importance of examining the part that cultural expressions and artifacts play in connecting humans and the ocean. Sea stories, chanties, and marine paintings all have their individualistic way of retelling history and they are not simply just artistic expression. Just these serve as vessels of history, so does Derek Walcott’s poem, “The Sea is History.” His poem acts as a medium of retelling and reinterpreting the complex history and identity of the Caribbean people. It can be seen as a sea story where he pulls together the hardships of slavery and colonization with the sea as the backdrop setting. By subjecting cultural expressions, such as this poem, to academic scrutiny, scholars working in the blue humanities are able to uncover a richer, more inclusive history. They are able to trace back the perceptions of the ocean and the ways in which humans interacted and interpreted it throughout time. This fosters a deeper appreciation for human culture and our constant evolving relationship with the sea. 

Derek Walcott’s poem “The Sea is History” offers a deep reflection on the multifaceted role of the sea in shaping Caribbean history and identity. By doing this, we can open up space for alternative sources of knowledge and interpretation. Oral histories, folklore, art, and cultural practices can provide valuable insights into the lived experiences of marginalized communities and offer nuanced perspectives on historical events. Moreover, John Gillis’s ideas from “The Blue Humanities,” further the importance of recognizing the ocean as an archive of history. His observations about the historicization of the oceans challenge the traditional land-centric views and expand scholarly inquiry beyond terrestrial “boundaries.” By acknowledging the interconnectedness between humans and the oceanic environment, scholars in the blue humanities are able to develop a more comprehensive understanding of oceanic history and culture. By combining Walcott and Gillis’s work, it ultimately reminds us to listen to the stories that are held beneath the surface and to not be afraid to dive deeper. There is a significant value in hearing marginalized voices, alternative perspectives, and honoring those silenced voices. In doing so, scholars are able to create a comprehensive history that does not leave out the things we don’t want to hear, offering a chance to break the cycle of history’s repetition. 

Works Cited

Walcott, Derek. (1979). “The Sea is History.”

Gillis, John R. (2013). “The Blue Humanities.”

Week 15: We Are Mermaids

I enjoyed reading this poem, especially the ending because it made me reflect on the acceptance of doubt in my own life. It is comforting to recognize that doubt doesn’t necessarily have to be solved or fixed, but I can coexist and live with it. For part of my blog, I wanted to focus on the line, “You don’t have to be useful. You are not required to come up with something to say.” The author presents a powerful message here as it is okay to sit in silence sometimes and embrace those moments. It frees ourselves from constant need to impress or perform for other people. It speaks to the idea of releasing oneself from the societal pressure to always be productive or constantly feel the need to have something to contribute. It emphasizes the value of simply just existing and being present in the moment without feeling the need to justify yourself. One’s worth is not contingent on their ability to verbalize and I think embracing the idea that we don’t have to always be useful, we are able be more present in life.

The ending of the poem also caught my attention as it read, “You can live with your doubt, that’s why it’s yours. Some of us are going to be okay.” It’s possible to live with doubt and be okay. Doubt is not a weakness or flaw, but it is a natural part of being a human. Our doubts are unique to us and our experiences and we can learn to coexist with them. The ending offers a shimmer of hope as there is always room for growth and healing despite the challenges. The author sends a message of resilience and optimism when faced with uncertainty. Doubt is a difficult thing to just forget about or avoid, as it is something that lives in the back of our minds.

Conclusion

As I reflect on this semester and this class, I feel like I have truly learned and grown a lot. I am a business administration major so a majority of my classes are not structured like this one nor are they as engaging as this. When I signed up for this class, I was just filling a requirement but I am so glad that I chose it, as it has been very eye opening for me. I didn’t know about or hadn’t actually thought about most of the information that we read and discussed about. Diving into the topics of environmental literature, ecological themes in storytelling, and the symbolism of mermaids has been enlightening. It has challenged me to look at the interconnectedness between literature, culture, and the natural world in ways I would have never before. The ideas and different perspectives the people in this class have brought up in discussions have broadened my own perspective and have allowed me to learn in such a different way. This class has deepened my appreciation for literature and I now am able to look at text in a different way. My close reading skills have definitely been improved as I really didn’t have much experience before this. I love that now I am able to notice the deeper meaning when I read and can question the why’s and the so what’s. My writing has also gotten a lot better as a result of this class and I am excited to end the year a stronger writer. This class did challenge me a bit though as it was out of my comfort zone, but I found myself actually wanting to go to class and learn. Overall, I really enjoyed the time I had in this class and I am sad it’s coming to an end.

Final Essay Proposal

In Derek Walcott’s poem The Sea is History, the sea serves as more than just a physical entity; it embodies an archive of collective memory, a symbol of both hope and tragedy, and a metaphor for the complex history and identity of the Caribbean people. The poem is an invitation to reconsider conventional narratives of history and to explore the sea as a storage of collective memory and untold stories. Challenging the traditional modes of historical studies that often prioritize written records and official accounts is important to foster a more inclusive and comprehensive understanding of history. 

Week 14: The Deep

These chapters of The Deep made me feel a sense of sympathy for Yetu as she was experiencing an internal struggle between picking herself or others. She is torn between her duty to her community and her own need for self-preservation. Without her identity as a historian, who was she? When she first experiences life without the burden of memories, she finds herself capable of making a deeper connection with someone else. She experiences emotions, connections, and conversations that were previously out of reach for her.

The passage that ends chapter 7 is what really stuck with me. It reads, “At least with pain there was life, a chance at change and redemption. The remembering might still kill her but the wajinru would go on, and so, too, would the rest of the world. The turbulent waves were a chaos of her own making and it was time to face them (126).” Despite the pain Yetu endures as a result of the History, it affirms that these experiences are a vital part of her existence. She realizes that this pain is a testament to her growth and the ability to persevere in the face of adversity. She carries the immense burden of her peoples’ memories and is forced to experience the trauma and pain first hand. She is burdened by the weight of their memories and chose her mental and emotional well-being as she couldn’t continue to sacrifice herself for them. But, she ultimately realizes that she needs to help her people in order to save them. Even though she knows this will cause her pain that may even kill her, she is willing to put others first. She realizes that her role as the historian is not just a burden but also a vital aspect of her identity and purpose. Her people rely on her to preserve the History and their culture and that abandoning them would be leading to far-reaching consequences. She acknowledges that this chaos is in part of her decisions and is willing to face the internal and external struggles that await. She is ready to confront the painful memories she has been suppressing and embrace the responsibility she has as Historian. Although this is her “job,” I still find myself feeling bad for her as she did not choose to have this life. It seems unfair that she doesn’t get to experience much happiness in life unless she is away from her community where she doesn’t have to constantly relive trauma.

Week 13

In some parts of this weeks readings, I noticed how mermaids were being portrayed in a negative light and depicted as vengeful. Particularly in the first section it states, “In early 2012, a local news station reported that the community b lamed the malfunction of Gwehava Dam in Gokwe, completed just two years earlier on “angry spirirts” who “exist in the form of a mermaid and a large strange snake that dwells within the surroundings of the dam” (166). This reflects a belief system where supernatural beings are held accountable for natural events or technical failures. By framing the malfunction as the result of angry spirits, it implies that there are consequences for human actions, such as disrespecting the natural environment or failing to appease spiritual entities.

We are the ones invading their habitat and environment, but claiming that they are the ones to blame when our agenda doesn’t go as planned. Blaming mythical beings or spirits for natural events may serve as a coping mechanism or a way to reconcile human actions with the unpredictability of nature. However, it’s crucial to recognize the underlying power dynamics and environmental impact of human activities, such as dam construction or habitat destruction, which can disrupt ecosystems and displace indigenous species. Attributing blame to mermaids and other mythical beings for the malfunction of the Gwehava Dam may reflect a broader narrative of displacement and exploitation of natural resources. There is tension between traditional beliefs and modern development, where indigenous mythologies are often marginalized or dismissed in favor of technological explanations.

The Sea is History

Paige Harrisberger

Professor Jessica Pressman

ECL 305: Literature & Environment

14 April 2024

The Sea is History

In Derek Walcott’s poem The Sea is History, the sea serves as more than just a physical entity; it embodies an archive of collective memory, a symbol of both hope and tragedy, and a metaphor for the complex history and identity of the Caribbean people. Rather than focusing solely on written records or official accounts, Walcott suggests that the sea itself holds valuable insights into the past, offering alternative perspectives and voices that may have been marginalized or silenced. 

Derek Walcott’s poem The Sea is History delves into the belief that the sea embodies more than just physicality; it represents a reservoir of collective memory and a repository of untold histories. The title of the poem itself suggests that the sea is an archive of history, challenging traditional methods of historical documentation and interpretation. The lines “there was the sound/like a rumour without any echo” from the poem evoke a sense of mystery and ambiguity, inviting his readers to contemplate the complicated nature of historical truth and the complex relationship between memory and silence. The metaphor of a rumour, with its implications of hearsay and uncertainty, reflects the idea that history is often shaped by subjective interpretations and selective recollections. Like a rumour that spreads through word of mouth, historical narratives can be distorted or manipulated over time, leading to a snowball effect of conflicting accounts and obscured truths. Rumours are often unsubstantiated, subject to distortion, and easily forgotten, mirroring the malleability and fragility that is mirrored by historical narratives. This metaphor holds a significance in terms of Walcott’s cultural context, particularly within the Carribbean context, where oral tradition plays a crucial role in shaping collective memory and identity. In Caribbean history, colonial powers exerted significant control over the narratives that shaped perceptions of the region and its people. European colonizers, such as the Spanish, Portuguese, British, French, and Dutch, sought to portray their colonization efforts as aimed at civilizing and uplifting indigenous populations. They imposed their cultural, economic, and political dominance over the Caribbean islands, shaping the collective understanding of the region’s history in accordance with their own interests. Colonial powers often depicted their colonization efforts as noble endeavors. However, beneath the false appearance lay a blunt reality of exploitation, oppression, and domination. Colonial powers systematically stripped the natural resources of the Caribbean, exploiting indigenous labor and forcibly displacing entire communities to work on plantations and in mines. The transatlantic slave trade further intensified the exploitation and dehumanization of African peoples, who were forcibly transported to the Caribbean to work under brutal conditions on sugar, cotton, and tobacco plantations. Moreover, colonial powers implemented systems of racial hierarchy and discrimination that sustained social, economic, and political inequalities long after the end of formal colonization. Indigenous peoples and Africans were marginalized, disenfranchised, and subjected to violence and discrimination, while European settlers and their descendants enjoyed privilege, wealth, and power. 

The second part of the line I mentioned earlier, “without any echo,” further reinforces the idea of silence and erasure, suggesting that certain voices and perspectives may be lost or disregarded in the retelling of history. In the context of the poem, this silence may represent the voices of marginalized or oppressed communities whose experiences have been overlooked or silenced by dominant historical narratives. Moreover, the comparison to an echoless rumour implies a sense of hopelessness in attempting to uncover the full extent of historical truth. Just as an echo fades into silence, leaving behind only traces of its existence, so do the voices and memories of the past gradually disappear over time, leaving behind fragmented and incomplete accounts of history.​​​ The final line of the poem reads, “of History, really beginning.” The capitalization of the “H” in History holds significance, signaling to the gravity and universality of the concept being referred to. Capitalizing “History” raises it to a proper noun, giving it a sense of importance and authority. It suggests that History is not simply just a series of events but a profound and meaningful entity that shapes the trajectory of human civilization. Walcott may also be implying that History is an ongoing and evolving process, with each moment of time contributing to the overall narrative. In this sense, History is not static but dynamic, constantly being written and unwritten by different generations.  

Derek Walcott’s poem The Sea is History offers a deep reflection on the multifaceted role of the sea in shaping Caribbean history and identity. The poem is an invitation to reconsider conventional narratives of history and to explore the sea as a storage of collective memory and untold stories. Challenging the traditional modes of historical studies that often prioritize written records and official accounts is important to foster a more inclusive and comprehensive understanding of history. By doing this, we can open up space for alternative sources of knowledge and interpretation. Oral histories, folklore, art, and cultural practices can provide valuable insights into the lived experiences of marginalized communities and offer nuanced perspectives on historical events. Ultimately, Derek Walcott’s poem The Sea is History reminds us of the importance of listening to the stories that lie beneath the surface, of recognizing the value of alternative perspectives, and of honoring the resilience of those whose voices have been marginalized or silenced. In doing so, it offers a powerful testament to the enduring significance of the sea as a symbol of hope, tragedy, and collective memory in the Caribbean and beyond. 

Works Cited

Walcott, Derek. (2007). The Sea is History. 

Week 12: The Sea is History

After looking at this weeks readings, I found the poem, “The Sea is History,” to be quite interesting. Even the name of the poem itself proves its importance as it suggests that the sea serves as an archive of history, that contains the memories, struggles, and experiences of the people who have traveled it. Rather than focusing solely on written records or official accounts, Walcott suggests that the sea itself holds valuable insights into the past, offering alternative perspectives and voices that may have been marginalized or silenced. Derek Walcott uses biblical allusions and imagery throughout the poem, drawing parallels between the experiences of the Caribbean people and stories from the Bible. The sea can represent both a source of liberation (in the Exodus) and a site of suffering and oppression (in the Middle Passage). This shows the sea as a symbol of both hope and tragedy within the Caribbean imagination.

The line, “and then each rock broke into its own nation;” really stuck out to me and I think it is because it is bringing up the significance of boundaries once again. In a response to the European colonization of the Caribbean communities, separate nations were formed on each island. The metaphor of rocks breaking into nations creates an image of upheaval and division, reflecting the violent and disruptive impact of colonialism on the region. As Europeans colonized the Caribbean islands, they enforced their own political, social, and economic structures, which led to the displacement and oppression of indigenous peoples and the forced migration of enslaved Africans. But, this line cannot be interpreted as solely negative, as it also appreciates the resilience of these communities and the formation of new ones under the destructive forces of colonization. Also, the two lines toward the end that read, “there was the sound/like a rumour without any echo,” are thought provoking, as the stories of history go deeper than the surface. By Walcott comparing history to a “rumour,” he is implying how history can be manipulated, just as a rumour can. And as the absence of an “echo,” he is suggesting that these stories have not been fully acknowledged or even heard. This reminds me of history being called “his story” because it is just so prevalent and true. There is such power dynamics inherent in historical narratives, as many primary authors and interpretators of history have been people in positions of power, who are often men. This has obviously shaped our understanding of the past and perceiving different groups of people. It makes me question the things I have learned in school and to take in to consideration who is writing these historical narratives.

Week 11: Sirenomelia

While watching Sirenomelia, it felt very off-putting and almost uncomfortable to watch. The sounds in the background and visuals in the beginning definitely contributed to this feeling. It reminded me of watching an episode of Black Mirror where you are so drawn in but you’re not really sure why. It’s simultaneously familiar, while also unsettlingly surreal. The juxtaposition of the mermaid figure against the backdrop of a decommissioned NATO base in the Arctic Circle creates the surreal atmosphere, similar to the unsettling scenes often seen in the Black Mirror episodes. When the camera panned to the mermaid swimming in an industrialized area, it created a contrast that shows the clash between nature and human intervention. It kind of made me feel uneasy as there could easily be mythical creatures living among the ocean and coexisting with the manmade. I think this scene portrays the consequences of industrialization on ecosystems and the intrusion of human activity on natural environments. The inoperative site once filled with activity and human presence now stands abandoned and still, serving as an obstruction among the surrounding natural environment. This sense of desolation, isolation, and decay of the abandoned landscape adds to the overall uneasiness that I felt and I’m sure other viewers felt through watching the film. I feel as if the mermaid and the decommissioned base serve as constructs of past and present, as well as imagination versus reality. The mermaid is a timeless presence, as they have been ingrained across numerous cultures and time periods. They tend to symbolize the untamed forces of nature and the lure of the unknown. The mermaid exists beyond time constraints and can transcend boundaries, or even the lack thereof.

The ending of the film shows the mermaid swimming, on the open ocean from an aerial view. To me, I think this truly shows the endless possibilities and unknowns that may lie in the ocean and beyond the known world. Just as the ocean offers a limitless amount of opportunities, so does the human imagination. Knowing how vast the ocean is truly scares me and maybe it should. Maybe we weren’t meant to explore the ocean, but I still find myself questioning what we are missing by not diving deeper.

Week 10: The Ocean Reader

The introduction of “The Ocean Reader” had me thinking a lot about how we really don’t practically anything about the ocean nor do we care about the problems going on inside of it. I took Oceanography last semester and it was covered one of my GE requirements which is so interesting because how can you consider learning about the ocean general education when we really know nothing about it? It seems like we’re just scratching the surface of what is really going on. I wish we knew more about the oceans as there is so many unknowns as to what is truly in the depths. I think that’s why so many myths and legends about sea monsters and mythical creatures are stemmed from the ocean. They originate from our innate curiosity and even fear of the unknown depths. These not only reflect our fascination with the ocean but also serve as a reminder of the impact it has on our collective consciousness. And I hope as we continue to explore the possibilities of the oceans, more species will be discovered and phenomena that may inspire more myths and legends in the future.

It is also perplexing to me that the ocean covers more than half of our planet and it hasn’t been a priority to explore it. I think we often just overlook what goes on in the ocean because we can’t see what’s happening so we pretend it’s not in trouble. I like how in the text the author made the decision to capitalise Ocean as it gives it more of an emphasis and significance. I think it’s crucial for people to understand how much of an impact our ocean has on our lives.I also like how convincing this introduction is written as it draws you in to want to read more about how crucial the seas are to our survival.