Why Things Fall Apart Still Matters: Chinua Achebe’s Timeless Reflection on Identity and Power

Reclaiming the African Narrative

Before Things Fall Apart, African societies were frequently depicted in Western literature as chaotic and primitive, their people voiceless and nameless. Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness had portrayed the continent as a mere backdrop to European moral drama—a “dark” void awaiting illumination. Achebe’s response was both literary and moral: he would show the world that Africa had always possessed its own light.

Through the story of Okonkwo and the Igbo village of Umuofia, Achebe crafted a portrait of pre-colonial life that pulsed with rhythm, ritual, and meaning. The yam festivals, the breaking of the kola nut as a gesture of hospitality, the proverbs, the kinship systems—all of these details built a civilisation that was vibrant, organised, and wise in its own right. The kola nut ceremony, in particular, becomes a recurring emblem of respect and unity, reminding that even simple acts carried deep moral and social significance. Achebe’s use of English infused with Igbo idioms and oral traditions gave the novel its unique texture: an African story told in a global language without losing its soul.

In one sense, Things Fall Apart was an act of defiance—a literary correction to centuries of distortion. Achebe wrote not to romanticise the past but to restore balance, to show that African cultures had history, moral codes, and complexity long before the coloniser’s arrival. In doing so, he changed how the world viewed Africa—and how Africa viewed itself.

Okonkwo and the Tragedy of Power

At the heart of the novel stands Okonkwo, the proud and fierce warrior whose obsession with strength leads to his downfall. Okonkwo’s story is both personal and symbolic. He is haunted by the memory of his father, Unoka, whose gentleness and failure to achieve status make him a symbol of shame. Determined never to be weak, Okonkwo becomes the embodiment of hypermasculinity—harsh, authoritarian, and incapable of expressing vulnerability.

Achebe’s genius lies in using Okonkwo to mirror the fragility of power itself. His strength is both his armour and his curse. As the novel unfolds, we see that Okonkwo’s inability to adapt mirrors his society’s own struggle to withstand the winds of colonialism. His downfall is inevitable, not simply because of fate but because of his rigidity—his refusal to evolve in a changing world.

In our modern context, Okonkwo remains an enduring symbol. His fear of appearing weak echoes in societies still bound by toxic notions of masculinity and honour. His tragic end reminds us that power without empathy, and tradition without reflection, can destroy both the individual and the community.

When Worlds Collide: Colonialism and Cultural Erosion

The arrival of the British missionaries and colonial administrators in Umuofia marks the novel’s turning point—a slow and devastating unravelling. Achebe does not paint colonialism in black and white; instead, he reveals its complexity. The missionaries bring a new faith that appeals to the marginalised—the outcasts and those who feel confined by tradition. Yet the same faith also becomes an instrument of division and domination, eroding the very foundations of the community.

Achebe shows that colonisation’s most insidious power is not physical conquest but psychological control. The Igbo are not destroyed by force alone; they are undone by the erosion of their unity and the seduction of new beliefs. The final chapters of Things Fall Apart are thus not only tragic but prophetic, capturing the precise moment when one world yields to another.

In today’s globalised era, this conflict remains strikingly familiar. Cultures still grapple with the tension between preserving tradition and embracing change. Languages disappear, customs fade, and global systems often replace local ones. Achebe’s novel reminds us that such shifts come at a cost—that when identity is uprooted, something irreplaceable is lost.

A Universal Mirror

While deeply grounded in the Igbo experience, Things Fall Apart transcends geography. The novel’s emotional power lies in its universality: every culture, at some point, has faced the pain of disintegration. Whether it’s the collapse of indigenous traditions under colonialism or the loss of local identities in the face of globalisation, Achebe’s vision speaks across continents and eras.

Even the novel’s title—borrowed from W.B. Yeats’s poem The Second Coming—echoes this universality. Yeats wrote of a world where “things fall apart; the centre cannot hold”, describing the disillusionment of postwar Europe. Achebe reclaims the phrase to describe the fracture of African life under colonialism. The dialogue between the two works highlights how disintegration, whether political or cultural, is a shared human experience.

Achebe’s writing style also contributes to this enduring resonance. His prose is clear and unadorned, yet rich with wisdom. The Igbo proverbs he weaves into the narrative—“When the moon is shining, the cripple becomes hungry for a walk”—carry the weight of collective memory. Through them, Achebe reminds readers that stories are not just entertainment; they are vessels of identity and moral insight.

Why It Still Matters

Decades after its publication, Things Fall Apart remains as urgent as ever. Its questions—Who controls the story? What happens when cultures collide? How does power corrupt identity?—still dominate global discourse. As societies today reckon with their colonial legacies, as movements demand the decolonisation of education, and as individuals search for roots in an increasingly homogenised world, Achebe’s novel stands as both a warning and a guide.

The world Achebe wrote about has changed, but the patterns he exposed endure. We still see “centres” that fail to hold—families, nations, ecosystems, and moral compasses shaken by forces beyond their control. Achebe’s message is not one of despair, but of recognition: to understand the present, we must listen to the stories of the past.

Conclusion: The Story That Refuses to Die

Things Fall Apart endures because it tells the truth—about power, loss, and the fragile bonds that hold societies together. Achebe’s voice remains as vital now as it was in 1958, reminding us that when voices are silenced, when empathy gives way to domination, and when identity is stripped of context, the centre truly cannot hold.

In the end, Achebe’s legacy is not just literary; it is human. He reminds us that to tell one’s story is to reclaim one’s power—and that even when things fall apart, the act of speaking, remembering, and writing can hold them together again.

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