Kurtz's Paradox In Heart Of Darkness

It is dense.

The jungle is dense with vegetation, mystery, and sorrowful whispers. The diction is dense with superfluous adjectives that sit heavily on the page, combining with the use of visual imagery to create a haunting image of Africa. The incidents that Marlow experiences with the natives and the Company are dense with racial tension and a deeper realization of their humanity. Marlow takes us on an expedition deep into the Congo that clearly reveals the dark side of the human conscious. And this heavy journey that Marlow takes is deeply impactful, not only for himself, but for the reader.

We are faced with a story of revelation, horror, but also great contradiction; Why does the Company enslave the people it claims to be enlightening?

Why does Kurtz evoke both love and fear from the native people? And why does Marlow despise the Company's treatment of the natives openly worship Kurtz, the man who tortures and kills them, and puts their heads on stakes facing the windows in his hut? Heart of Darkness is full of intriguing paradoxes that reveal that almost nothing is what it seems, and that the most difficult truths to comprehend come from the greatest contradictions. Crawling down the Congo on the steamer, Marlow says allegorically that it is as if they are traveling back in time to our roots as pure, primitive humans. But here is the great hypocrisy: Instead of moving closer to the raw form of humanity, Marlow takes us to the darkest corners of civilization, revealing the flaws that have taken the men so far from their empathetic roots.
Even before Marlow journeys to Africa, the Company stands on a pedestal of Western glory, embodying the facade that Europe has created to hide their true intentions. Marlow’s aunt eagerly tells him how he will be doing something worthwhile by “weaning those ignorant millions from their horrid ways” (17). At first, Marlow is sceptical, but later horrified by what the pilgrims are truly doing; “They wandered here and there with their absurd long staves in their hands, like a lot of faithless pilgrims bewitched inside a rotten fence. The word ‘ivory’ rang in the air, was whispered, was sighed” (36). They did nothing. Absolutely nothing. The pilgrims sit around and let time pass, keeping their positions by simply being able to stay alive. Conrad uses a simile to demonstrate how paralyzed and entranced the pilgrims are by just the thought of Ivory. They are trapped inside the “bewitched fence” of their backwards minds.
Yet the natives are endlessly tortured and forced to labor. After beating an innocent black man, one of the pilgrims yells, “‘Serve him right. Transgression—punishment—bang! Pitiless, pitiless. That’s the only way,” (40). Nothing substantial is being done to help the natives, which is essentially the Company’s purpose. “It was as unreal as everything else—as the philanthropic pretence of the whole concern, as their talk, as their government, as their show of work,” (38). The company is the exact opposite of what it claims to be. Instead of aiding the natives, it destroys them, kills theme both literally and mentally.
The paradox between intention and direction within the company is disheartening to say the least, but it reveals something larger about the pilgrims and the civilizations they represent. The Western culture created an organization that served no real purpose. Greedy and desolate, the decay of civilization pushed man to become empty, to stand for something, yet be completely hollow. The irony of at once standing for a liberal cause, but at the same time being hollow of humanity is perplexing and depressing. The company “has no entrails,” just as one who is surviving in Africa.
Even the description of the imperialist workers as “pilgrims” is a contradiction. A pilgrim represents purity, travelling an especially hard journey for religious reasons. This contradicts what the imperialists actually set out to do: make money and gain power. The men are anything from pilgrims, acting sacrilegiously to fulfill their egregious desires.
Similarly, Kurtz seems unbelievably large, perhaps even seven feet tall, but his name means “short” in German. Kurtz’s name contradicts itself, revealing a discrepancy in his appearance versus his inner nature. Kurtz becomes a man of contradictions to fulfill his greedy desire for wealth and power. He is loquacious, yet enigmatic. He is an “emissary of pity and science and progress, and devil knows what else” , yet he is crudely racist and inhumane (39). He claims to love the natives and to be serving them, yet rules above them with violence and terror. Kurtz establishes himself as a demigod, demanding respect while respecting no one else. He uses savage tactics to get what he wants, going so far as to display the heads of murdered natives in front of his hut. Marlow realizes that “he was not afraid of the natives; they would not stir till Mr. Kurtz gave the word. His ascendancy was extraordinary. The camps of these people surrounded the place, and the chiefs came every day to see him,” (97). Kurtz had created a system that made him all powerful and divine by creating fear.
Clearly Kurtz knows how to gain Ivory and use cruel fear tactics to get what he wants, so what is the point in depicting himself as a God of goodness? This is the contradiction that puzzles us, but eventually his paradox manifests itself; Kurtz is trying to subdue his conscious empathy for the natives by convincing himself that they need him, that he is their savior. “There was something wanting in him— some small matter which, when the pressing need arose, could not be found under his magnificent eloquence,” (95) that so artfully hid a juxtaposing savagery and hollowness. Kurtz’s contradictory existence as both an emissary of civilization and culture and a barbaric monster is “the horror,” that haunts him to his death (43).
It is Kurtz’s paradox that causes Marlow’s own to become clear.

Throughout his journey to the heart of darkness, Marlow becomes increasingly aware of the unfair practices that exists in the Company's territory. He slowly becomes disgusted with the inhumane treatment of the natives, even if he doesn’t fully see them as equals. When the harlequin calls them rebels, he is outraged: “I shocked him excessively by laughing. Rebels! What would be the next definition I was to hear? There had been enemies, criminals, workers—and these were rebels,” (98). He even goes so far as to say that “Mr. Kurtz was no idol of mine,” (97). Yet, after meeting Kurtz, Marlow becomes infatuated with his every word. "Kurtz was a remarkable man," Marlow says, because he "had something to say" and he just "said it" (48). Marlow admires Kurtz’s ability to act on his deepest impulses without much restraint. But these impulses are the same thing that disgusts Marlow. Marlow’s paradox is in his realization of the humanity in the natives, and admiration for Kurtz.

Marlow idolizes Kurtz because he cannot differentiate himself from him. Both men fall victim to the spell of the wilderness, although each choose a different path. What scares Marlow is how easily he could’ve chosen to become a barbarian like Kurtz and abandon his naive view of humans as basically equal. Marlow’s paradox of intention is yet another layer Conrad creates to distance himself from the plot. By making Marlow empathetic with Kurtz, the reader is forced to consider him as something other than a

monster.
While reading Heart of Darkness, it is easy to wonder why Conrad would include so many contradicting ideas and people. Even the language uses opposing adjectives, creating paradoxes of language that contribute to a tone of ominous fascination. The paradoxes are there to show the contradiction that is the human struggle. As the only animals on earth that have a complex, conscious mind we have the power to create great, towering civilizations. As Marlow starts his story sitting cross-legged on a boat floating down the Thames river, he admires the past heroes who once sailed there too. But this structures can distance us from the other great unique ability of humans; Our empathy. This ingrained sympathy is something that Conrad fosters by allowing us to stand at a distance as we witness a horrifying evolution of a conflicted man journeying through Africa. We become aware of the lies that make up Marlow, but also humanity. As Marlow travels deep down the Congo, which represents the raw untouched human experience, he sees how western ideals of wealth and power have brought man to an unfathomable darkness. The Company, Kurtz, and even Marlow contradict themselves because they represent a larger fight between a monstrous need for power, but a deeper and innate compassion for human life.