On the morning of April 7, 1881, Armand de La Motte, editor-in-chief of Le Figaro, noticed his assistant looked flustered as soon as he entered the office.
He let out a dissatisfied "harrumph":
"What is it, so nervous?"
The assistant picked up a manuscript from the desk and handed it to La Motte:
"This manuscript, the editors couldn't decide whether to publish it or not..."
La Motte mumbled:
"How can they become more timid? We are the respectable Figaro—"
He was choked off by the assistant's addition from behind him:
"It's a manuscript from Mr. Lionel Sorel."
La Motte's hand trembled, and cigar ash fell onto the manuscript.
He frantically brushed it off:
"Next time you bring me a manuscript like this, state the name first!"
The assistant dared not argue further, only replying:
"Understood, Mr. La Motte!"
La Motte didn't have time to scold his assistant further; he clutched the manuscript and hurried into his office, sitting down to read it carefully.
The title alone made his eyelids twitch: The Honored, and The Castrated.
The juxtaposition of "honored" and "castrated"—two extremely contrasting words—was not only eye-catching but also made La Motte smell a certain "bloodiness."
As expected, after briefly recounting the "anecdotes" of the Indian elites in London, Lionel launched his full attack:
["Indian princes and wealthy merchants can receive titles, medals, and invitations to royal banquets because of their 'contributions to the Empire'... But the colonizers will still only view them as 'representatives of foreign subjects,' like exotic treasures displayed in a museum.
They are tools used to prove how 'inclusive' and 'equal' the imperial culture is, but they will never truly be accepted as members of society."]
Next, Lionel deeply analyzed the purpose of colonial education, which was precisely what the Indian elites in London were most proud of—
["The fundamental purpose of the colonizers in promoting education in the colonies is not enlightenment or achieving equality, but rather manufacturing an intermediary class. Just as the British cultivated subjects in India who had Indian blood but British ideas.
They needed local people to assist in administration, someone who could understand their directives and execute them in a manner acceptable to the locals. These selected elites became the cogs and the mouthpieces of the colonial system."]
Then, he presented the article's core, and sharpest, viewpoint—
["The colonizers taught them knowledge, but they also used this knowledge to castrate their spirit. They were taught to look up to the brilliance of the colonizers' civilization but were forbidden from possessing their own lamp.
They could quote classics, being more familiar with the sayings of Shakespeare or Voltaire than the British or the French, yet they were ashamed of their mother tongue; they imitated European manners and behavior, wore the most expensive custom-made suits, and attended the best elite schools, yet they would never be accepted as 'civilized people.'
This is a profound spiritual castration—the more perfectly the native elites of the colony imitated the colonizers, the more ridiculous and alien they appeared.
They became spiritually rootless individuals, suspended between two worlds, truly belonging to neither the world of the colonizers nor gradually returning to the world of their origin. The 'honors' bestowed upon them were the very knives used to complete this act of castration."]
Near the end, Lionel summarized:
["The final product of the so-called 'civilizing mission of the superior race' is never a 'civilized person,' but a spiritual eunuch shrouded in a halo of glory.
It leads the colonized to deny themselves while looking up, and to lose themselves while imitating, ultimately becoming willing servants of the colonizers' rule. Compared to gunboats and bayonets, this iron chain binding the soul is far stronger, and far more tragic."]
But the article wasn't over; Lionel seemed to have more to say, adding a final paragraph—
["This kind of rule will inevitably transform into a nightmare for the colonizers in the future, becoming an 'original sin' that future generations must bear. Historical debts never vanish into thin air; their interest only continues to accumulate, awaiting the day of repayment.
When the colonized people awaken and demand the dignity and rights that were stripped from them, the history of colonization will become a wound that can never heal.
Every descendant of a colonizer will have to face endless questioning and pay the price, generation after generation, for the 'great achievements' of their ancestors.
This price will be far heavier than what they once plundered. I can even see a day when Indians become British Prime Ministers, and the streets of France are filled with Algerians..."]
La Motte put down the manuscript and let out a long sigh.
This article differed from the current political commentary in newspapers; it focused more on criticizing the cultural and psychological aspects.
Although Lionel's final "prediction" was absurdly far-fetched, it was undeniably chilling enough to cause alarm.
"My God, an Indian Prime Minister..."
La Motte shuddered at the thought.
He naturally understood why Lionel submitted this manuscript to Le Figaro and not Le Petit Parisien or La République.
Le Figaro's readership consisted of the conservative middle-class elite of Paris, who were often the beneficiaries of colonial policy.
Lionel's article was challenging their worldview—not by loudly proclaiming how hypocritical Jules Ferry was, but by showing this pillar of the nation just how absurd colonial expansion truly was.
If La Motte rejected the submission, Lionel could easily find another newspaper to publish it.
But then, Le Figaro would likely face ridicule and mockery from its peers once again.
La Motte did not want the public outcry from The Adventures of Benjamin Button to fall upon his newspaper again.
After much hesitation, he handed the manuscript, The Honored, and The Castrated, over to the typesetters.
However, he specifically added an "Editor's Note," stating that the article did not represent the stance of Le Figaro.
The next day, the latest issue of Le Figaro was released, and Lionel's article indeed sparked heated discussion among Parisian readers and cultural elites.
Compared to the fierce tone of the Communards, Lionel's article appeared more "introspective" and "profound."
"Sorel's angle this time is too unique!"
"He doesn't talk about economic exploitation or political oppression, but about 'spiritual castration.'"
"Indeed, this kind of harm is more hidden and harder to heal than material plunder."
Even some moderate readers who were usually indifferent to radical left-wing rhetoric were moved by the article.
An anonymous government official stated in an interview with reporters:
"What Lionel says has merit. When we promote French education in Algeria, isn't our goal also to cultivate 'Algerians with French minds'?"
Of course, there was also criticism.
Some staunch supporters of colonial policy quickly wrote articles in the newspapers.
They accused Lionel of "crying wolf" and "smearing France's civilizing mission," arguing that he ignored the "progress" and "modernization" brought by colonization.
But these critics soon discovered an awkward fact—their arguments were almost identical to how the British previously whitewashed colonial atrocities.
The British press naturally did not miss this opportunity.
The Manchester Guardian quickly arranged for an English translation of Lionel's article and published it in a prominent position.
And the reaction to this article in London was even stronger than it had been in Paris.
(End of Chapter)