David Scott (1999, 11) notes that “the task of decolonization consisted in the demand for self-representation, a process of restoring an authentic relationship between representation and reality” (Emphasis in original). However, there can be no easy route to restoring an authentic relationship, nor any simple, direct link between representation and reality. Self-representation, as much as any other form of representation, is vulnerable to abuse, misrepresentation, distortion, and inauthenticity. In the process of self-representation, there is also necessarily a sense of setting the record straight, and therefore, a critique of colonial culture and its long-established representations. However, as Aamir Mufti (2000, 100) observes, the critique of colonial culture is double-sided: “If, on the one hand, it is meant to interrupt the manner in which something called the West narrates itself and its Others, it is also a warning against the possibility that Orientalist descriptions take hold within the very societies that they take as their objects” (Emphasis in original). Re-Orientalism theory takes as its starting point the salient fact that by the 21st century, the East has increasingly seized the power of representation; however, this representation is not exempt from being partial and skewed, and, moreover, it is still Western-centric and postcolonial.

Therefore, despite having far more access to self-representation than previously, deep-rooted postcolonial legacies continue re-enforcing the significant power imbalance, particularly in the way knowledge is selected, constructed, authorised, then recognised, legitimised, and disseminated. The power imbalance where the creation and reception of knowledge is concerned – which still remains highly Western-centric in many fields – has many and far-reaching consequences as far as the shaping of a narrative is concerned and, subsequently, on whom the narrative is targeted towards. “The possession of greater power generally invests the knowledges of the more powerful with a greater authority than those of the powerless, and this authority facilitates the creation of universalized images of both the powerful and powerless” (Liddle and Raj 1998, 497). So although greater self-representation may have been achieved by the East, there is a host of influences acting upon that self-representation which continue to be Western directed and controlled. That said, the desire of the East and its increasing ability to speak for and represent itself rather than suffering the West to do so on its behalf at least begins to check the extent of Western representation of the Orient by taking the first step of providing alternative representations and narratives. However, as many a postcolonial scholar has pointed out, the East is often as Western-centric as the West, looking to the West as its reference point and thereby producing discourse which speaks as much to the West as for the East – rather than necessarily focusing on addressing the East; “metropolitan postcolonial studies threatens an imperialism of its own, one in which the third world produces texts for the first world academic’s consumption” (Chakladar 2000, 186). Re-Orientalism discourse looks at how contemporary Oriental authors of today comment on, challenge, change, but occasionally also reinforce some of these Orientalism practices, and with what/which strategies.

At the root of re-Orientalism theory is the recognition of the significant fact that the East/Orient has increasingly achieved greater and greater degrees of self-representation and all the implication and ramifications resulting from this increased self-representation. Re-Orientalism notes in particular two intriguing elements of this increased self-representation: firstly that the representation is still largely in the hands of a very few, a select elite, mostly an English-speaking and Western-educated group of Orientals – in fact, Kwame Anthony Appiah’s (1995, 119) “comprador intelligentsia” – which therefore may merely constitute a transfer of power from one dominant group to another, and may not constitute significant change in the paradigm of power (although there has been significant change in the exercise of that power); which in turn raises the question of the comprehensiveness of representation, the representativeness of representation, and, dare I say it, the authenticity of representation. Dorothy Figueira (2008, 68), working in an American context, furthers the discussion on the comprador intelligentsia, noting that postcolonial critics “brahminize” themselves, appropriating the voice of the colonised subject and becoming professional spokespersons for alterity, and then, in an Orientalist fashion, claim the power to “disseminate images of the national culture and its internal Others, documenting and managing the Other through an objectifying discourse”. It is not particularly surprising that since the paradigms of power were already so deeply entrenched and structured, some of the brahminising comprador intelligentsia would have yielded to the temptation to utilise these extremely handy routes to influence; but fascinatingly, as this volume will discuss, there are those who select a different route, who pioneer new paradigms, and who create new methods of re-Orientalising, some of which may well be equally damaging to the subaltern, but some of which, as will be seen, have far greater potential for democratising the representation process as well as eluding certain unwanted and/or unwarranted responsibilities.

The second angle of intrigue in re-Orientalism theory is how the process of representation, although now self-representation by the East of the East, continues to be filtered through Western lenses (in very similar style to Orientalism) and to reference the West as “Centre” in framing the representations and anticipating the audiences. As such, the West maintains its advantageous position as “Centre”; re-Orientalism theory consequently appreciates that Eastern representations to a large extent inevitably continue in large part through Western lenses, within Western frames of discourse, and via Western knowledge systems. Ashis Nandy (1998, 144), amongst other Third-World academics, makes the point that in any contemporary cultural dialogue, the West’s centrality has been ensured by the dominance of English (the language in which dialogue has to take place), which in turn “is mediated by Western assumptions and Western frameworks”. This, Nandy contends, leaves non-Western cultures no alternative but to use a version of an ahistorical internalised West as a reference point. Therefore, in the new politics of knowledge and cultures, “the key player naturally is the modern West, but it also has a series of translators in the form of persons and institutions whose main job is to either interpret the modern West for the benefit of other cultures or interpret other cultures for the benefit of the modern West, both under the auspices of the West” (145). IWE authors are often, even if unintentionally, members of those “translators,” and consequently complicit in re-Orientalising in their representations, complicit in “the commodification of exoticised Orientalism in global capitalist exchange” (Shivani 2006, 2). (Not just IWE authors, but also academics, novelists, publishers, cultural gatekeepers, cosmopolitans, expatriates, diasporic authors, media, politicians, and other Orientals representing the Orient to the West.)

As an example of the asymmetry of knowledge and historical overviews (Said 1994), and of the West continuing to function (as Nandy observed) as the world’s reference point, we need only look to the audience reception of the blockbuster movie Slumdog Millionaire, directed by Danny Boyle. Ana Cristina Mendes’s (2010) and Rebecca S. Duncan’s (2011) papers discuss how this movie received rapturous response in the West (and eight Oscars). It went relatively under the radar in India, however, until the winning of its Oscars, but once celebrated by Western critics, it was in great demand in Indian cinemas. It was the Western conferring of honours that brought this movie into celebrity status amongst the Indian audiences, despite the contention that there are many other better Indian movies on the same topic, just little known to the West, and consequently, granted little if any attention. Despite its celebrity status, Slumdog Millionaire caused some disappointment for and even dismay and outrage amongst a number of Indian viewers and diasporic Indian critics, some on the grounds of inauthenticity of representation, and some such as Salman Rushdie (2009), who regarded the exposure of Indian slums as a form of exploitation of India and/or Indians. Rushdie noted that Danny Boyle, who admitted he had never been to India and knew nothing of it, yet thought the film would be a great opportunity, was praised for his artistic daring. This in itself, Rushdie argues, illustrates the continuing double standards of postcolonial attitudes, because if the situation was reversed, far from praising a third world director attempting to make a keynote movie of a first world location the director has zero knowledge or experience of, critics would have made mincemeat of such effrontery.