40 pages • 1 hour read
David Diop, Transl. Anna MoschovakisA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: The source material contains graphic depictions of rape and violence, including murder and torture.
Diop’s novel raises a voice in protest of the randomness and meaninglessness of wartime death. The observation from the end of Chapter 3, “At night, all blood is black” (22), which Anna Moschovakis takes as a title for her translation of the novel, points to death as a great equalizer. It does not matter if the dead soldier was German or French, white or Black. Wartime death is figured as a common human tragedy, and war as a great waste.
After Mademba dies, Alfa is upset that “the Chocolat soldiers didn’t speak to [him] again about it because to them Mademba’s death was one among the rest” (48). For Alfa, this one death is world-shaking. His efforts to avenge and reenact Mademba’s death change him until he becomes, in his mind, a dëmm, “a devourer of souls” (38). The ritualistic killings of German soldiers or rape of Mademoiselle François are all hideous attempts to insist that Mademba’s death counts. Mademba’s fate emphasizes the dual violence of war and colonization; despite his devotion to the “motherland,” he is completely forgotten by everyone but Alfa.
Each soldier struggles with the sense, particularly acute in these conditions of trench warfare, that his death will arrive without logical reason and accomplish no discernable objective. Most of the bullets, mines, and shells that kill them are not even aimed. Death, tremendously personal for the slain, is entirely impersonal in the context of the battle. For Jean-Baptiste to taunt the Germans until he is singled out for decapitation by the master artilleryman, no matter how gory the result, represents a victory over this situation. He dies on his own terms and leaves behind a story.
The idea that Alfa is a dëmm appeals to his fellow soldiers because it provides a logic, however irrational, for their deaths. There is no way to guarantee survival in war, which is a difficult truth to accept. Alfa says, “They don’t like randomness. Randomness is too absurd. They want someone to blame, they’d rather think that the enemy bullet that hits them was directed, guided by someone cruel, malevolent, with evil intent” (34). The men feel comforted by the suspicion that Alfa is an “evil sorcerer” who eats human souls and bones and who intends their deaths because the alternative—that they will die meaninglessly—is too terrible to face. Sending Alfa away from the trench seems like a way to guarantee their safety, but in truth, they are just as vulnerable as they were before.
Alfa’s unraveling into murderous violence is related not only to war trauma but also to the acute strain of living under racist colonial stereotypes about Africans. This tension is thus central to the book’s postcolonial themes, highlighting the impossibility of constructing a stable or healthy identity under the hostile gaze of the colonizers. Alfa is constantly aware of how poorly France rates its African subjects. When the captain tells his Black men, “You, the Chocolats of black Africa, are naturally the bravest of the brave” (16), he hears in the captain’s “naturally” an essentializing viewpoint, where the men of “black Africa” are living out a racial destiny through their courage rather than exhibiting exemplary personal qualities. He hears the stereotype behind the idea of bravery as a racial characteristic. In the European colonial logic, the diverse people of Senegal lacked culture, civilization, and history before they had contact with European enslavers and colonizers. Colonizers, by this logic, brought the gift of civilization and Christianity to “primitive” African people; their theft of lives, land, and resources is both obscured and justified by this sleight of hand. To compliment the Senegalese Tirailleurs as “naturally the bravest” is thus to utter words that reinforce and justify the subjugation of them and their homeland (16).
These stereotypes are on Alfa’s mind, too, as he encounters his German victims. Germany has African colonies, too, and a set of stereotypes about Africans that mirror the rest of Europe’s. Alfa sees the fear of “savagery, of rape, of cannibalism” in his victim’s eyes (20)—a neat evocation of a suite of generalized colonial stereotypes about African people as “uncivilized,” sexually powerful, aggressive and deviant, and that they are cannibals. Alfa is clearly hurt that his trench mates and enemies alike believe he is a “savage”—though in his case, the fears ironically become justified. These stereotypes play a role in inflaming Alfa to murder by inspiring him to become the colonizer’s worst nightmare.
The French arm Alfa and the rest of their African troops (but not their European units) with the “savage machete.” Images of African soldiers waving the machete featured prominently in both French and German propaganda about the ferocity and “savagery” of French African troops. The French encouraged the image so Germans would fear them, and Germans used the image to incite racist panic and paint themselves as victimized by the “barbarity” of these particular French colonial troops. Alfa, typecast as “savage” by friend and foe alike, takes the role and the props that are foisted upon him to their logical extreme when he uses the machete to take German hands.
When Alfa first considers the possibility that he might be a dëmm, he concludes that the idea was planted in his mind by his Toubab [white African] sergeant and “blue-eyed enemies” (39). His mistake is in leaving “the door of [his] mind open to the thoughts” of those who mean him harm and eventually embracing, rather than resisting, their ideas (38). Readers of At Night All Blood Is Black thus should not conclude that the colonizers’ stereotypes are true, but rather that they have destructive power. Once inside Alfa, they transform him in their image.
At Night All Blood Is Black explores the nature of evil, most prominently through Alfa’s deterioration and increasingly violent actions. The particular nature of Alfa’s violence is centered on sacrifice. Alfa slits the throats of helpless Germans like “sacrificial lamb[s],” callously repurposing them to his own ends (27). His rape of Mademoiselle François can be read similarly. He uses her body and thanks her for “opening [her] little notch,” obsessively reporting on his own sensations, even as her life is extinguished (114). The throughline in Alfa’s brutality is his willingness to use and spend the lives of others in an attempt to assuage his guilt. His ritualistic killings are a way of externalizing his trauma, compulsively creating situations in which he can sacrifice others to give something back to Mademba.
Captain Armand is a second example of someone who sacrifices others. Of him, Alfa says, “The captain loves war the way men love a capricious woman. The captain indulges war shamelessly. He showers war with presents, he spoils her with countless soldiers’ lives” (65). Here the soldiers are “presents” or offerings he uses to spoil his “wife”: war. Captain Armand would do anything to continue to pursue this war. Being mission-focused in an officer can be admirable, but Alfa uses the motif of the promiscuous woman to feminize and sexualize war and ridicule the captain’s devotion to it over the lives of his men.
The captain’s disregard for life is never so clear as when he handles the Toubab soldiers’ confrontation about the futility of their attacks. The captain has the traitorous friends’ hands bound and orders them to either be killed in the trench or to climb out of the trench into no-man’s land, where they will be killed but their families will have pensions. Alfonse, the leader of the mutiny, wins the admiration of Alfa and all the others when he stumbles from the trench, dying with his wife’s name on his lips. Unarmed and bound like a sacrifice—literally sacrificing himself for his wife’s pension while posing no danger whatsoever to the enemy—Alfonse is nonetheless described as a “real warrior” for his courage (63).
Diop’s consideration of good and evil in this war novel ultimately seeks to redefine courage itself. While he classifies some forms of supposed bravery in the novel as evil—the bravery to attack, maim, and coerce others—Alfonse’s bravery, which lays down his own life, is a form of courage that the novel ultimately endorses. Evil sacrifices others, and valor sacrifices the self.
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