William Shakespeare’s The Tempest is a play from the beginning of the

seventeenth century. It is believed to be one of Shakespeare’s last works.

If considered from a postcolonial lens it can be interpreted that in this work
Shakespeare offers an examination of colonization, particularly the moral
aspects of it. In The Tempest the idea of colonization is communicated
primarily through the relationship between the colonizers and the colonized in
the play, specifically the relationship between Prospero and Caliban, and the
parallels between the process of European colonization and the plot of the
play. A chief idea that Shakespeare communicates throughout the play is the
idea of colonization and the relationship between colonizers and colonized.

During the time when The Tempest was written and first performed, both
Shakespeare and his audiences would have been very interested in the
efforts of English and other European settlers to colonize distant lands
around the globe. The Tempest explores the complex and problematic
relationship between the European colonizer and the native colonized peoples
through the relationship between Prospero and Caliban.

In addition to the relationship between the colonizer and colonized, The

Tempest also explores the fears and opportunities that colonization creates.
Exposure to new and different peoples leads to racism and intolerance, as
seen when Sebastian criticizes Alonso for allowing his daughter to marry an
African. Exploration and colonization led directly to slavery and the
conquering of native peoples. For instance, Stephano and Trinculo both
consider capturing Caliban to sell as a curiosity back at home, while
Stephano eventually begins to see himself as a potential king of the island.
At the same time, the expanded territories established by colonization
created new places in which to experiment with alternative societies.
Shakespeare conveys this idea in Gonzalo's musings about the perfect
civilization he would establish if he could acquire a territory of his own.
The character of Caliban dramatizes otherness and exoticism. Trinculo,
upon first seeing Caliban, questions whether he is “a man or a fish?” and
later repeatedly calls him “monster” (Shakespeare 2.2.25, 2.2.31).
Stephano consistently refers to Caliban as “servant monster,” “man-
monster,” and “mooncalf” (3.2.8, 3.2.12, 3.2.23). But even if these
characters emphasize Caliban’s monstrosity, I support Vaughan and
Vaughan’s reading of Caliban as clearly human (10). Prospero states, when
introducing Caliban and setting up his own coming to the island that it “was
not honored with a human shape” except “the son that she [Sycorax,
Caliban’s mother] did litter here”(1.2.281-83). The First Folio version of
the play describes Caliban in the Dramatis Personae as “a saluage and
deformed slaue.” However, the deformity is never specified, and staging
choices are left to the choices made by each production of the play.

Caliban’s otherness clearly has to do with his behavior as much as with his
looks. Prospero declares that despite his own humane treatment of Caliban,
Caliban refuses to behave appropriately. One of his complaints is that
Caliban, “with humane care,” was allowed to live in the cave with Prospero
and Miranda, but subsequently tried to rape her (1.2.346-48). Prospero
implies that gratitude would have been a more appropriate response to
sharing habitation with him and Miranda. Caliban, on the other hand,
laments that learning the language of his oppressors have done him no good,
only taught him to “curse” (1.2.363). In contrast to Prospero, who uses
magic to dominate other characters, Caliban’s curses are ineffective as a
tool. In other words, even if Prospero has made an effort to teach Caliban
the ways of the civilized world, Caliban is unwilling to behave according to
Prospero’s expectations.

Caliban is written as a sympathetic and composite character. As argued by

Deborah Willis, Caliban and his claim to the island is strong enough to
(partly) undermine Prospero as a just ruler (279, 284). Caliban explains to
the audience how “this island’s mine by Sycorax my mother,” a more
convincing claim to the island than Prospero is able to come up with
(1.2.331). He further details how Prospero pretended to “ma[ke] much” of
him, but then promptly enslaved him and now keeps him confined in a rock
when he is not working (1.2.472, 1.2.481-82). In this earnest and
eloquent speech, Caliban appears to have good reasons to complain of his
servitude, which again serve to undermine Prospero’s absolute authority.
Caliban might be partly savage and crude, but he also speaks in iambic
pentameter (like the noble characters of the play), and his side of the
story shows Prospero’s abuse and willingness to use magic and power to get
his own way. Thus, Caliban’s character works against simple stereotypes of
“savage natives” and invites the audience to ponder why, exactly, Prospero
might be justified in ruling over him.

The issues brought up by the character of Caliban also emphasize the

economic concerns of the colonial enterprise. When Prospero and Miranda
first came to the island, we learn, Caliban showed them “all the qualities o’
th’ isle / the fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile” (1.2.337).
He, in other words, has knowledge of the raw materials they needed for
their survival. In addition, Caliban represents labor for Prospero. While the
newcomers to the island refer to Caliban as “monster,” Prospero’s
descriptor of choice is “slave.” When Caliban first enters the stage, he is
repeatedly called “slave,” “my slave,” “poisonous slave” and “most lying
slave,” all in quick succession (1.2.307, 1.2.312, 1.2.319, 1.2.343).
Caliban works for Prospero: fetching wood, tending the fire, and other
“offices that profit [Prospero and Caliban]” (1.2.307). In this way, Caliban
represents both wealth, labor, and survival for Prospero and his daughter.

Other characters also see Caliban in terms of his monetary value. Trinculo
speculates that Caliban would “make a man” in England, i.e. make Trinculo
rich by attracting people who would be willing to pay to see him (2.2.30-
32). Likewise Antonio, Prospero’s brother, states that Caliban is “very
marketable” (5.1.266). They are not interested in Caliban’s qualities as a
person or his potential autonomy, but view him as an object, something they
can make money on. This, of course, mirrors colonial financial concerns.

The geographical location of the island of Prospero’s island is vague. This in

turn has contributed to the longevity of the play: after all, we still deal
with colonialism and post-colonialism, and the issues raised by Prospero and
Caliban have been specific enough to be useful, yet general enough to be
applicable to more modern contexts. We see this for instance in
Mannoni’s Prospero and Caliban: the Psychology of Colonization, where the
psychoanalyst uses the characters from The Tempest to illustrate,
generalize, and problematize the mindsets and effects of colonialism.

In addition to the relevance gained from this geographical ambiguity,

Caliban’s character and thus his colonized condition stays with the audience.
Whereas the spirit Ariel, who has been bound to Prospero throughout the
play, is released by Prospero at the end of the last act, Caliban’s future is
not resolved (5.1.320). Caliban, on the other hand, recognizes that
Prospero is now his master (again) and that he will likely be punished
(5.1.261) and Prospero, in turn, exclaims that “this thing of darkness I /
acknowledge mine” (5.1.275). They are back in the same kind of
relationship they had at the beginning of the play, except Caliban now vows
to “be wise hereafter, / and seek for grace” because he fears the
punishment Prospero can give him (5.1.295). First, this ending is tenuous
because obedience grounded in fear often backfires or leads to unwanted
consequences. Second, Prospero leaves it up to the readers’ imagination
what will happen to Caliban next. Some critics hold that Caliban will get the
island and his liberty back when Prospero returns to Milan (Vaughan and
Vaughan 9). I agree with Willis’ reading of the end where Caliban’s
future is really up in the air: he might be allowed to stay at the island by
himself, but it is equally possible that he has to come with Prospero to
Milan (286). Either way, Caliban’s presence is ongoing and uneasy, even
after the ending of the play.

In conclusion, The Tempest deals with colonialism and power in a nuanced

way. While demonstrating how Caliban is viewed by the colonizer, Prospero,
and the Old World newcomers to the island, the play also portrays him as a
sympathetic and oppressed character. Shakespeare’s combination
of contemporary, topical references to colonialism and natives and the
wider, overarching themes of the long-lasting effect of colonialism and
legitimacy of power, make this play feel relevant also in the 21st century.
After all, just like Caliban stays with us after the curtain goes down, so do
issues related to power and (post-)colonialism.