What's in a name?: the Demidenko-Darville hoax &amp&amp

By Matthew Abud
So far, the reactions to the Demidenko-Darville hoax have been polarised: those who don't know what they're arguing for, becoming tangled in all their own contradictions, and those who do. For its supporters, The Hand that Signed the Paper still holds the qualities for which it gained its awards — it's a good story, with a well-executed writing style and a sense of drama. It's argued that this is so irrespective of the revelations of the author's background.
This is despite the fact that its historical significance and accuracy, supported by Darville's fictionalised culture and family history, were used as proof of its values as both a literary and social/historical document beforehand. In her interview after gaining the Miles Franklin Award, Darville herself claimed that a major importance of her book was its historical authenticity, and the need for a greater variety of "multicultural writing" in Australia.
This is just what her supporters, or the book's supporters, in the literary establishment championed as well. Thus it's clear from the beginning that the book cannot be separated from the social, cultural or historical context in which it was written. This is true of any work, but within the values of multiculturalism which she has literally "bought into", it has very specific implications.
Some of these implications have been pointed out on the other side. Here the argument is much clearer, stating that Darville's background, or lack of it, cannot be separated from the work she produced. She has unscrupulously used a subjective, anti-Semitic interpretation of history, in which her family played no part, to gain recognition for her own career.
The significance of this kind of historical robbery goes beyond any simple literary aesthetic, amounting to an abuse of the peoples who lived and died through the horrors of the Holocaust in the Ukraine. Most of these condemnations of course focus on the fascist and racist content of the book, and hopefully will continue, especially because fascism itself is becoming more of a danger than it has been for some time.
However, the racist implications of this whole shebang go beyond the book's content. The process by which it was produced and feted and, especially, the arguments now used to defend it by parts of the literary establishment are an example of how a large degree of cultural dominance is maintained in this society (above a true commitment to cultural diversity).
If multiculturalism means anything specific (as opposed to being a somewhat widespread and diffuse ethos), it is that people from a variety of backgrounds own their stories and the heritage that goes along with that. Stories can and must be told and interpreted throughout a society, but their authenticity rests with those whose personal and cultural experience is contained within them.
It's this authenticity that Darville laid claim to; quite rightly, cultural heritage was recognised as being a source as valuable (or more so, for a "creative" or "artistic" work) as any purely academic research. However, with this as a banner, much of the Australian literary establishment embraced a novel that has been widely criticised for being anti-Semitic, and applauded it for bringing "to light a hitherto unspeakable aspect of the Australian migrant experience".
(Was it possible to imagine them also patting themselves on the back, or congratulating themselves on becoming more "relevant" or controversial on issues beyond merely producing literature? Maybe it depends on what kind of bent your cynicism takes.)
Since the Demidenko background has been revealed as a sham, much of this same establishment has turned around and praised the book further for being a so-much-more consummate work of fiction. Somehow, the success of the deception is supposed to heighten, rather than lessen, the literary value of the work. The fact that Darville cared little for accuracy and lied point-blank about her sources is ignored. In effect, as part of the dominant culture (and dominant class) in this society, she has colonised another people's heritage, purely for her own gain.
The contradictions and hypocrisy involved in this defence are obvious enough, and have been mentioned by many commentators. It will be curious to see how long and how well it can be maintained; I suppose it depends on how much of their reputation is at stake for those involved. But this "defence" also points to assumptions about literature and the creation of fiction that are widely accepted without question.
In this book, many of the issues are clear: its false historical and racist content has highlighted the politics and power play involved as clearly as anyone could wish. But in writing fiction, this manipulation of facts for the sake of a good story, and in the process obscuring the sources and their authenticity, is standard.
The fact that this is an acceptable way of thinking is demonstrated every time appeals are made to the "fictional qualities" of the book as a piece of literature above all else. The issues of cultural ownership and the ownership of heritage, history, experience, are subsumed as if they were merely matters of aesthetics on the part of the dominant culture. A story is thus a story, quite apart from its social or historical context.
This argument obscures cultural dominance and its political and social power bases from being seen for what it is. This practice also subsumes conflicts between people with the same heritage: all Greeks, Vietnamese, Ukrainians, are supposed to speak with one authentic, authoritative voice. This in itself can be seen as a form of racism, at times patronising, at times deliberately manipulative, manufacturing another's ethnic identity so that it's "simple" and palatable enough for the dominant culture to swallow.
What Darville, her publishers and her supporters have done in claiming another people's heritage and interpretation of the history for themselves is something that happens every day in literature — with many different permutations and implications. The problem is, if Darville's book weren't so high profile, and if its content weren't so overtly fascist, this argument would have every chance of success without meeting the slightest demand to prove its validity.
Our society is defined as a literate one, whether that be in print or other forms, in spite of the level of illiteracy that exists here, whether caused by failed education, language barriers or lack of time or money to access what's published. Another aspect of literacy/illiteracy is whether people have the chance to produce their own works, and so consolidate their own experiences as being socially and culturally important, or even valid.
Within this hierarchy, the authority held by writers and publishers is a truism. To a large extent, they define cultural values, set the parameters of debates, work out what the status quo is for our perception and understanding of history — in short, they decide what things are stories, and what are not. It is part of the contradiction between what is recognised as "knowledge" and what is merely individual or collective "experience", lacking in "definition" and representation, which underlies much of our cultural production and processes. Darville's hoax simply shows this up to a cartoon-like extreme, most of all because of her success, and because the content, as well as the process, was so blatantly racist.
It is a pity. The judges of the Miles Franklin Award, and other supporters, undoubtedly thought they were supporting some form of cultural diversity when they recognised the book, although they seem to have been somewhat naive in acknowledging the consequences of the values it propagated. However, their reactions since, apart from demonstrating their own lack of courage, show how important they hold their own authority as part of the cultural dominance of the status quo, and how far they are prepared to use deliberately depoliticised, "colonist" arguments to support this.
(Of course, it is just possible that multiculturalism in the arts doesn't mean anything concrete, in which case no "taboos" or social norms have been broken at all, and the kind of colonisation described here is nothing more than spinning a good yarn ...)