Can one look at what Frantz Fanon calls “national consciousness” — a collective social consciousness that identifies with a national identity, often swayed by rules written by figureheads — which for Fanon are the colonialist — to mend the divisions within — what W.E.B Du Bois calls “double-consciousness” — bisected by ingrained ideologies (both state & civil or as Louis Althusser calls respectively repressive state apparatus & ideological state apparatus) to lead towards self-healing, propagating national healing, and opening “up the struggle of freedom?”

How one thinks, acts, and lives are determined by ideologies implemented by those with authorial power, those figureheads; national consciousness constitutes these same compounds of ideologies to exist. For Althusser, our national consciousness comprises two ideological apparatuses, the repressive state apparatus & ideological state apparatus. And it’s here that consciousness and the self are demarcated — although not initially, for as Gabor Mate theorizes in his book, “When The Body Says No,” one’s two-ness is genetic, starting before one is born and with one’s parents. The RSA is a system employed by the ruling class “in order to achieve their tasks” (Norton, 1366) through violence and repression by utilizing institutions, such as courts, police, armed forces, and more, to conduct their biding; their biding to keep status quo, to keep their ideologies in place. The RSA is an apparatus that uses fear to keep citizens in line, and in the Marxian sense, as objects to be used and re-used for “their tasks.” The ISA is a civil system that uses soft power. This non-violent approach utilizes education, media, churches, sports clubs, and even family to conceal and mask the ruling class’s ideology behind the “liberating qualities” of education, media, etc., so that the hidden agendas of the ruling class are inconspicuous.

Between state and civil ideologies, between fear of violence and the sublimity of soft power, where does a person stand? When always in a battle of two-ness between ideologies, how can a person know oneself honestly, understand one’s world, and feel whole enough to heal oneself and assist in healing the nation? And most importantly, how can one know their thoughts are their thoughts, not those foisted by the figureheads, the ruling class?

One way many people deal with these questions is quite Saussurian; they tend to compare themselves to others to ensure they follow society’s unspoken rules and comment no embarrassing faux pas. However, this only causes resentment for the other, anger, stress, and bemusement within, and most detrimental, indolence and insouciance for anything concerning life.

Another way people may deal with these questions is to look at history. Indeed world history is essential, but here, one’s personal and cultural history gives one more understanding of self and society and can help elevate culture outside the ideologies of the ruling classes. Fanon, in his book, “Black Skin, White Masks,” does just this, and what he discovers is that his heritage is rich in culture: “The white man was wrong. I was not primitive, not even a half man; I belonged to a race that had already been working with gold and silver two thousand years ago (Norton, 1354.)” But in surveying history, another problem surfaces, that of the gatekeepers, who often are the ruling class, that, on the one hand, rebuke those who venture outside of the hegemonic circumference and, on the other, hold close to the chest any ways to expand the circumference.

“I wanted to be white— that was a joke. And, when I tried, on the level of ideas and intellectual activity, to reclaim my negritude, it was snatched away from me. (Norton, 1355.)” Through his survey of history and the rebuke from the man, Fanon faces a duality, a double-consciousness, a two-ness in his search for one-ness in a society that saw him not as a person, but an object to keep the ideological tasks in motion, a cog in the industrial machine. This is the national consciousness — an identity that is separate and steeped in ideological confusion, to have no choice but to follow what lies before them — and with the RSA, fear of walking the paths less traveled (thus, missing opportunities) is predominant in the mind. People stay in place, hiding behind “the veil,” never acknowledging their two-ness, which is a gift that leads to “second sight,” and thus, may “open up the struggle of freedom?”

But how do we acknowledge and accept our double consciousness to be whole and part of society on one’s own terms? Indeed, watching others and surveying history have their benefits, but it’s through expression that one can merge the two sides within and without. In “Black Mask, White Face,” Fanon gives the example of Algeria from 1952 to 1955. Before colonialism, “the storytellers, who were before that time stereotyped and tedious to listen to, completely overturned their traditional methods of storytelling and the contents of their tales (Norton, 1363.)” Although colonialism arrested these storytellers, it’s through music, writing, dancing, singing, and any form of creation, that there’s a place to see oneself and society. This opens up oneself and society to “the struggle for freedom.” And thus, begin the healing process. The healing of the soul, body, mind, society, nation, etc. By doing this, one can alter and reshape the national consciousness to include them, their ideas, and culture, thus, expanding — no, changing — the hegemonic circumference. And maybe then, as a society, we can focus on more egalitarian approaches to unite people.

In his Prison Notebooks, Gramsci distinguishes between two types of intellectuals: the “organic” and the “traditional.” The traditional intellectual is someone who is trained in the humanities and social sciences and produces abstract knowledge. They are often associated with the academic establishment and are removed from the everyday struggles of working-class people. They tend to see themselves as objective observers of society, instead of as dynamic members in social and political battles. The organic intellectual, on the other hand, is someone who is rooted in the working-class community and who develops a theoretical understanding of the world through their experiences and struggles. They see themselves as dynamic members within the battle for social equity. They are often associated with social movements and popular education.

For Gramsci, the social function of the traditional intellectual is to maintain the status quo and reproduce dominant cultural and political values. The organic intellectual works on the interests of the working-class community and they develop an understanding of the struggles. An example of traditional intellectuals in our own time might include university professors who produce abstract knowledge for the sake of professional advancement. Organic intellectuals can include community organizers, educators, etc. Education and educational institutions are crucial to modern society, according to Gramsci, because they play a key role in the reproduction of cultural and political hegemony. He argues that working-class people must develop their own educational institutions and methods. Something I agree with Gramsci is when he talks about education not being just a matter of transmitting knowledge and skills, but is also a site of struggle over ideas and values.

In conclusion, Gramsci’s distinction between organic and traditional intellectuals highlights the importance of developing a critical understanding of social and political struggles and using that knowledge to mobilize and organize working-class communities. He focuses on education and institutions relating to the importance of developing alternative forms of providing knowledge.