Benevolent Colonialism in Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe

Daniel Defoe's 1719 British travel novel, Robinson Crusoe, is commonly referred to by modern literary critics as the quintessential colonial novel, as it served as a guidebook for European travelers who wished dominate the foreign lands they discovered. Today, Defoe's eighteenth-century message regarding colonialism is lost in a sea of global interaction; the current instantaneous connectivity of people, ideas and goods affords little room for antiquated thought. A modern reader, who has seen the domino effect of colonialism throughout the globe since Defoe's era, perceives Crusoe as little more than another Euro-centric Puritan who lays claim to anything he discovers and has no qualms subjecting others unto his “divine” power and authority. However, when the novel is placed in its eighteenth-century context, Defoe becomes a critic of his own colonial-minded society. Keenly aware of the economic benefits of trade and expansion, he argues for the fair and just treatment of the foreign inhabitants which travelers and colonizers might encounter. Crusoe's island becomes a utopian society in which people of all religions can unite to better serve God and one another, eliciting the greatest profit possible.

In the Introduction of her book, The Global Eighteenth Century, Felicity A. Nussbaum defines the “global” as particular interactions amongst individuals during the eighteenth century, as well as “the movement of ideas across borders and over time” (2). Global interactions were made possible at this time by improved navigational techniques, the expansion of global trade, and the mixing of various races and cultures. Nussbaum explains that this global explosion “is inextricably associated with European colonialism and its attempt to spread concepts of civilization, progress and technology” (4). But the spread of such ideas is not universally beneficial to all cultures across the globe. Sometimes, such as in the case of African slavery or Native American genocide, foreign cultures inevitably clash with colonial intentions. Just as in America, “colonizing nations sought to create the illusion of uniformity by promoting fictions of a singular national identity” (Nussbaum 14). Crusoe supports this illusion early in the novel as he attempts to model his companion Friday in his own fashion. However, Friday is a willing participant in this transformation. Later in the novel, Crusoe accepts the diversity of his subjects, indicating that Defoe would rather, through colonialism, spread Christianity covertly, not forcefully.

Nussbaum also claims that “many critics today argue that eighteenth-century travel narratives often served to justify European imperialism,” and that is certainly the popular understanding of Robinson Crusoe. However, a true justification of European imperialism would include the unrestrained promotion of capitalism, Eurocentrism, and Puritanism. While Defoe certainly argues for an expanse in trade and commerce, in order to benefit England, he does not desire to eliminate foreign societies, cultures or religions. After all, the colonized people would be the potential consumers of English goods. Instead, he recommends the acceptance of Others in order to assimilate them to a new economic, religious, and social climate. Brett C. McInelly, the author of “Expanding Empires, Expanding Selves: Colonialism, the Novel, and Robinson Crusoe,” identifies the disparity between actual European colonial endeavors and Crusoe's colonization of the island: “Robinson Crusoe stands as an allegory or figure of colonialism, not an exhibit of it” (3). Author Wolfram Schmidgen, of “Robinson Crusoe, Enumeration, and the Mercantile Fetish,” also agrees that “Defoe is mainly interested in undermining … feudal modes of community” (19). After all, Crusoe's time on the island does nothing to bring him material prosperity. Instead, Defoe recommends colonialism as a means to increase trade and commerce, but only after benevolent “individual mental states and political attitudes” are established (McInelly 14). His desire to change the tide of colonialism is indicated as he considers attacking the group of cannibals: “This would justify the conduct of the Spaniards in all their barbarities practis'd in America” (167). Robinson Crusoe, then, serves, not as a justification of European imperialism, but as a critique of it. He does not wish his colony to be founded upon the same brutal grounds that Europeans wrought against the Native Americans.

In his article “Enclosures, Colonization, and the Robinson Crusoe Syndrome: A Genealogy of Land in a Global Context,” Robert P. Marzec identifies Crusoe's domination of the land as a means of establishing his own identity, claiming that “Defoe's interest in cultivation concerns more than the domination of land; it is part and parcel of British and Western identity formation” (143). Indeed, the novel's beginning illustrates the vastness of the globe and the limitations of the self. Crusoe is nearly killed by a storm at sea, enslaved by Moorish pirates, and shipwrecked on a deserted island. Once he is alone on the island, he has adequate time for self-reflection and examination. Eventually, he becomes, quite literally, a self-made man, transforming himself from a helpless individual to “king, or emperor over [his] whole country” (126). McInelly explains the paradox of Crusoe's self-development: “… rather than being overwhelmed by the vastness of his environment and dwindling under feelings of insignificance, Crusoe's self-image enlarges the father he travels from England” (4-5). This self-assured mindset was necessary for the implementation of colonialism.

On the island, Crusoe repeatedly faces physical (and imagined) danger. Instead of shrinking away in terror, he asserts his dominance over each situation, each time further recognizing his self-importance. He is capable of surviving the exotic terrain and elements, and eventually makes his own laws and gives names to places and things on the island. He realizes, in his solitude, that he is the only authority there to do such things: “I had no competitor, none to dispute sovereignty or command with me” (126-127). As he familiarizes himself with the features of the island, labeling places and things for his own personal utilization, he also asserts his dominance over them, and in turn, the entire island. Eventually, he wields this power of authority over Friday, and later, the British mutineers. McInelly wraps up the colonial mindset succinctly: “… master yourself and you master your destiny; master your destiny and you master others; master these and you master the economic contingencies of life” (6).

By naming Friday, Crusoe claims possession of him the same way he does with physical objects on the island: “I made him know his name should be Friday, which was the day I sav'd his life … I likewise taught him to say Master, and then let him know, that was to be my name” (200). By giving him a name, rather than trying to learn his real one, Crusoe asserts that Friday's previous life is of no consequence. Like Crusoe's parrot Poll, Friday becomes little more than a pet, simply an extension of his master. Crusoe, of course, is pleased by Friday's willingness to be dominated, as he shows “all the Signs … of Subjection, Servitude, and Submission” (200). Friday's unquestioning acceptance of Crusoe's domination reinforces European assumptions of the superiority of their religion, culture, and social ideology. His submission identifies Crusoe as a “benevolent colonizer;” this passivity is no doubt Defoe's attempt to satirize actual accounts of colonial domination, for no respectable people would quietly allow their culture to be decimated for another's material benefit (McInelly 18).

Puritanism and capitalism came to be two of the greatest themes of colonialism in the eighteenth century; “Protestant Britons came to see themselves as God's chosen people” and therefore entitled to their domination of distant lands and “savage” peoples (McInelly 7). Puritans thought that, through colonial efforts, they could disseminate Christianity, thereby saving “savages” from themselves. This paradigm is exhibited in the Crusoe-Friday relationship. During the eighteenth century, Puritans (more specifically, Protestants) were also heavily engaged in a criticism of Catholicism, as evidenced through the Inquisition. This prejudice makes its way into Robinson Crusoe, as well: “I had rather be deliver'd up to the savages, and be devour'd alive, than fall into the merciless claws of priests, and be carry'd into the Inquisition” (237). However, in the sequel to Robinson Crusoe, The Farther Adventures, Crusoe admits his appreciation for one Catholic priest's relatively liberal religious convictions. Because the two men agree on the faith of Christ, the priest becomes a suitable religious overseer of the island, and Crusoe leaves him to convert the remaining pagan subjects (McInelly 10).

While Defoe is openly critical of Catholicism, he does not marginalize anyone for their personal convictions. Instead, he looks at each individual to determine their moral worth. The British mutineers proved to be more barbaric than the Spanish castaways, after all. Defoe's ideal colony is much like Crusoe's island at the end of the novel: “It was remarkable too, we had but three different religions. My man Friday was a Protestant, his father was a Pagan and a cannibal, and the Spaniard was a Papist: However, I allow'd liberty of conscience throughout my dominions” (234). Crusoe the Protestant is tolerant of other nationalities and cultures, “committed to essential practices rather than doctrinal controversy,” and self-reflective (McInelly 7). Defoe recommends that colonizers establish this same mentality when encountering inhabitants of potential colonies.

Defoe's Puritanism is reflected in Crusoe's internal development as well. Constantly seeking Providential guidance, he claims that God is responsible for his isolation. He struggles with the divine throughout much of the beginning of the novel. For example, he first identifies the sprouting corn as a miracle sent by God, but later attributes it to mere good luck. According to McInelly, “… before Crusoe can improve his standing in society, he must first develop the capacity to 'spiritualize' his experience on the island, that is, to acknowledge a divine presence operating in his life” (14-15). Once he repents and accepts divine guidance, he becomes the sole authority of the island. Reflecting upon an older system in which divine right was handed down from God to blessed kings, Crusoe interprets his discovery of Friday as a heavenly gift. A self-referenced “king, or emperor,” Crusoe easily makes Friday his property because God has handed him to him, just as God gave him the island to rule. Defoe suggests that wealth and power come only from following God's guiding hand, and that any man can become king of his domain by accepting the heavenly authority. By the novel's end, he feels as though he has divinely earned the right to be governor of the colony, but has also grown to accept the other religions that grace his island.

Defoe's criticism of his own culture's pursuit of colonialism is evident in Robinson Crusoe. His island is a wholly fictionalized place where people of varying cultures and religions can live in peace and harmony. The novel, then, becomes a blueprint for fellow colonizers' interactions with Others. At the end of story, Crusoe leaves the island to the Spanish, indicating Defoe's hope for more peaceful colonizations in the future. Robinson Crusoe is a recommendation that “the cultivation of the land” be coupled with “the benign cultivation of people” (Marzec 150). Defoe insists that native people should be encouraged, not pressured, to accept Christianity. Peaceable relations with exotic cultures would pave the way for trade and commerce, bringing tremendous wealth to England through her benevolent treatment of potential consumer societies.


Works Cited
Defoe, Daniel. Robinson Crusoe. New York: Barnes and Noble, 2003. Print.

Marzec, Robert P. “Enclosures, Colonization, and the Robinson Crusoe Syndrome: A Genealogy of Land in a Global Context.” Boundary 2 29.2 (2002): 130-156. Print.

McInelly, Brett C. “Expanding Empires, Expanding Selves: Colonialism, the Novel, and Robinson Crusoe.” Studies in the Novel 35.1 (2003): 1-21. Print.

Nussbaum, Felicity A. "Introduction." The Global Eighteenth Century. Ed. Felicity A. Nussbaum. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005. 1-18. Print.

Schmidgen, Wolfram. “Robinson Crusoe, Enumeration, and the Mercantile Fetish.” Eighteenth-Century Studies 35.1 (2001): 19-39. Print.