One of the principal elements in colonial and postcolonial literature is the encounter with the ‘Other’. This concept refers to how colonisers and the colonised view each other. In a colonial context, the culture of the coloniser is seen as superior, while the culture of the indigenous people is pushed aside, silenced, or treated as inferior.
In Waiting for the Barbarians, Coetzee explores how oppression affects both the oppressor and the oppressed. The Empire treats the so-called barbarians as outsiders—people who do not belong. This process is known as ‘othering’, a way of building one’s identity by defining someone else as different, strange, or lesser. Gayatri Spivak and other critics explain that imperial systems create the ‘Other’ to justify domination and violence. In the novel, the barbarians are viewed as uncivilised and dangerous, but this image is constructed by the Empire to maintain power.
The story takes place in an isolated outpost, unspecified in time and space. Though the novel doesn’t mention South Africa directly, its themes clearly speak to the realities of apartheid and colonial violence. Coetzee uses this distant, undefined setting to avoid censorship while criticising systems of oppression. He shows how the Empire needs the barbarian to create a sense of national unity. Without an enemy, the state would lose its purpose and power. This idea is reflected in the novel’s title, taken from C.P. Cavafy’s poem, where people wait for the barbarians to arrive as if they are a solution to their emptiness.
According to Homi Bhabha, the idea of a nation fills the emotional and cultural gap when traditional communities are broken apart. The Empire in the novel relies on the narrative of a barbarian threat to keep its identity intact, even if the threat is imaginary. Coetzee presents the story through the eyes of the Magistrate, a man who represents the Empire yet exists on its margins. Narrated in the first person, the novel gives us access to his internal conflict as he moves from a position of quiet acceptance to one of moral questioning.
At the beginning, the Magistrate is content with his routine life—managing records, overseeing a peaceful outpost, and living with the comforts that the Empire provides. He expects nothing more than a small mention in the imperial records when he dies. But this calm life is disrupted with the arrival of Colonel Joll, who brings violence, suspicion, and torture in the name of protecting the Empire from a supposed barbarian uprising.
The Magistrate becomes disturbed by the brutal treatment of the prisoners. He begins to question the Empire’s moral authority and realises that those in power create fear of the ‘Other’ to maintain control. The novel also challenges the idea of who the ‘barbarians’ really are. They are a mix of desert nomads, fisherfolk, farmers, and herdsmen. Some are peaceful, others are perceived as warriors. Their only common trait is that they are not part of the Empire. This binary—us versus them—is what allows the Empire to construct a sense of unity. The townspeople also accept the idea of the ‘Other’ because it gives them a sense of belonging within the Empire. Even though the barbarians differ among themselves, the Empire treats them as a single, threatening mass.
As the Magistrate grows increasingly uncomfortable with the Empire’s actions, he begins to resist in small ways—showing compassion to a tortured barbarian girl and later opposing the violence more directly. Yet he remains trapped in the very system he once served. Coetzee explores the Magistrate’s evolving relationship with the Empire and his growing awareness of ‘otherness’ through his connection with the barbarian girl. As she is tortured by the Empire, the Magistrate takes her into his home, washing her body in a ritualistic way, as if trying to cleanse himself of guilt and distance himself from the Empire. However, he fails to truly connect with her. The girl remains largely silent, both emotionally and verbally, and her wounded body becomes a symbol the Magistrate cannot fully interpret.
The body of the oppressed often represents land—something to be claimed and owned. In the novel, both Colonel Joll and the Magistrate cross this line. Joll uses violence and torture to control the barbarians. The Magistrate, although gentler, still attempts to understand the girl by caring for her, yet he continues to hold power over her. When he takes the girl back to her people, he sees it as a form of compensation for the Empire’s wrongs. But this act is not enough. It is only when the Magistrate himself is arrested, tortured, and treated like a barbarian that he begins to truly understand what it means to be the Other.