Do We Love Big Brother?
a review of 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' by George Orwell
George Orwell's 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' is the classic twentieth century dystopian novel. Based on a society under the totalitarian control of something called the 'Inner Party', the story depicts the travails of two main characters: Winston, a lowly 'Outer Party' worker, and 'Julia', his love interest. This novel was part of my formative experience, though inevitably my critical appraisal of the book has evolved with time. In my eyes, Orwell - always a controversial figure - was a kind of 'bourgeois socialist'. I think the words of Robert Barltrop (a real socialist) aptly summarise the problem: "In many ways, Orwell is like a man marching to throw open some pearly gates and abolish mendicancy, who never gets near the gates because he keeps stopping to tell beggars he is on their side." I think this nails it. Actually, I think Barltrop was being too kind. Orwell wrote well, but lacked a deep comprehension of what he was writing about.
A common criticism of 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' is that there is a feeling of plainness and ordinariness about the plot, narrative and characterisation. Admittedly, we are not in the presence of great writer, just a good one. Even so, Orwell was special: the vocabulary of 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' has entered the Western political and social lexicon. The flat feel of the plot and characters here hits just the right note. I would not expect the main love interest, 'Julia', for instance, to be anything more than a shadow and I happen to think she is well-depicted.
What of the novel's political message? You might say Orwell was latently a socialist in that he manifests the ethics of someone who believes, vaguely, in a kind of social equity and egalitarianism. However, in common with most applications of the word 'socialism', the 'IngSoc' - "English Socialism" - of the ruling Party is pseudepigraphal, merely an abstract representation of a relatively benign governing philosophy that has been twisted to totalitarianism, rather than an attempt to tell us anything about socialism itself. Despite this clever touch, Orwell's understanding of socialism is incomplete and his grasp of the dynamics of social change non-existent. In fact, 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' is actually quite a reactionary novel. It is based on an extreme vision of the future extrapolated from the complaints and observations of Orwell's present, and in doing so attempts not so much to predict the future as to hold a mirror-up to the society that existed in the War era and in the aftermath of the War. The material issues that prompt social change are ignored. Society is assumed to be static with no evidence of unrest or discontent at its obvious and blatant injustices, yet Orwell thinks the answer to the predicament lies with the "proles", society's underclass. It is not explained how the "proles" might rebel, something which would require a conscious understanding of their position as a class and a conscious understanding that their social environment is shaped by economic forces. In fact, the only dynamic force in the novel appears to be the 'Inner Party', who - one would assume - are embarked on a continual quest for greater and greater power for its own sake and who will always accumulate and concentrate power to themselves, there being no structures for the diffusion of power among the rest of society. As an analogy and commentary on reality, I would think this is useful to some extent, but the 'boot stamping on a human face' idea can only extend so far and does not fully-explain why surveillance societies such as the old DDR or contemporary North Korea existed or still exist. It's a thesis that ignores the more important driving force of social change, economic need, and also the dynamics of capitalism itself.
Overall, Orwell's message in this novel appears to be negative and pessimistic. In spite of all the Party's attempts at indoctrination and conditioning, two of the 'Outer Party' members, 'Winston' and 'Julia', are able to actualise their humanity and express their love for one another, thus standing in defiance of Big Brother. However, this 'love' is ambiguous and 'Winston' and 'Julia' constantly feel the pressures of the authoritarian forces around them chipping at their burgeoning individualism. Does the existence of the love between them nevertheless signal the inevitability of the Party's ultimate demise? Is it axiomatic that totalitarian conditions cannot be sustained in human societies? Is there something in human nature that will not allow repression to last for very long? I think all those questions might well have been on Orwell's mind as he wrote this great novel and they can be rolled into this: is there, within human beings, an innate desire for freedom or do we just want to be led? Or, to put it a different way: do we love Big Brother? I think that is the dilemma at the heart of 'Nineteen Eighty-Four'.
My own thoughts? At the moment I think we do love Big Brother, whether we realise it or not. One way of looking at this is through the lens of psychology and how the human mind has evolved to function in a way that both enfranchises us and impedes us. Using that perspective as our starting-point, it makes sense to suggest that we are still in our psychological and sociological infancy as a species. There was a time in early human history when men in their tens of thousands could be corralled as slaves to do the bidding of their masters. I would suggest those men had not only a quite different and alien lived-experience, but also very different minds to the people of today. Their minds were most probably of a hive-like character. The human mind has evolved somewhat since - a source of hope and (false) expectation - but alas I do not think we have evolved a significant extent in our basic patterns of thinking, and in support of this assertion I would point to everyday evidence of our continued obsession with, or tacit acceptance of, cruelty and war and our child-like understanding of politics.
Humanity is not yet sociologically-ready for a leaderless society, and while I think we are edging closer to the collapse of this hierarchical social system, we still show a discernible psychological reliance on leaders that will be difficult to shake-off. Like 'Winston', we need only switch on the TV and Big Brother stares back at us, but perhaps the more profound truth of this novel is the way it holds up a mirror to ourselves as much as our external reality. While the means and modes of suppression of thought and expression, totalitarianism, and authoritarian government can be a tangible burden on societies and ruin lives, it seem to me that they are more properly considered to be conditions of consciousness that are surmountable - and ultimately only surmountable - by force of will. To state it plainly: if enough people oppose what is going on, then it should not happen, but effective political action first requires consciousness of strength and purpose among those in opposition. In my view, it is this collapse of consciousness and awareness that is the central failing of our present society. Who'd have thought that otherwise intelligent people would obsess over, write books about, and believe-in a man because he is black/half-black and that millions of otherwise sane people will think that one single man can resolve society's problems? It sounds crazy but that is the society we live in. That is the political understanding that prevails - even in the academy, even in the elite universities. That is the material we have to work with. Future generations will laugh at us - most of all because they will see that Big Brother was not on the TV after all, but staring back at us in the mirror.
T. T. Rogers
Showing posts with label 1984. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1984. Show all posts
Thursday, 9 May 2013
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
'Swastika Night'
On the burdens of knowledge:
a review of 'Swastika Night' by Katharine Burdekin
I have long felt that Katharine Burdekin's 'Swastika Night' surpasses the other dystopian science fiction of its time, in what was perhaps the most fertile era for the genre. It is a great book and deserves to stand among the classics. How tragic that this author is not popularly known! I think the final insult for this author, as if to rub salt into an already painful wound, is that it is incredibly difficult to get hold of her more obscure works, either at an affordable price or at all.
'Swastika Night' presents a harsh social world some seven centuries into the future. It is a world dominated not so much by men but by maleness, but the men have superior status and the women are - for the most part - submissive and penned in the most horrendous conditions. The only criticisms I have of this novel are, first, that Burdekin's extrapolation seems a little esoteric and not fully-believable - though her perception is undeniable - and second, I also think that perhaps too much time is spent in static dialogue between two of the leading characters. Nevertheless, the story is well-written and once the central issues are resolved, it moves along at a pace. I really cannot add any more without exhausting the superlatives available (which would be well-deserved). The rest of this review is a more detailed summary of my thoughts on the meaning and messages in the story, and in particular how I think this novel transcends a strictly gender and class critique. I will try not to reveal too much here, but be warned there are some clues as to the plot so don't read the rest of this if you could do without spoilers.
Like most, on first reading I took the novel itself as a gender and class critique but having re-read it more recently and reflected on my own experiences, I think the author is also trying to tell us something about knowledge - specifically, political knowledge. Burdekin was not just extrapolating, in a sense - like Orwell some years later in Nineteen Eighty-Four - she was also commenting on the present and society as it is. In our determination not to recognise wrongs and injustices around us, we like to construct spatial and temporal buffers: "that sort of thing happened long ago but wouldn't be allowed here" and "that sort of thing happens over there but not here." These are ways to promote a kind of 'coerced contentment' - which has its own totalitarian quality - and in that sense, I think the characters of 'Swastika Night' are in some ways freer and luckier - even more human - than we are. We may not suffer Hermann's illiteracy or Alfred's frustrations, but for all that, Hermann and Alfred at least have seen down the rabbit hole, have experienced adventure and have lived - which is more than can be said for many in our society, in our time.
The Knight, the crucible of the story, holds in his hands the font of all knowledge, literally in every sense. What does he do with it? He hides it, sharing the knowledge only with his issue. Unlike Alfred, he sees knowledge as an unmitigated burden, but unlike Hermann, he also recognises the power of knowledge, its ultimate ability to help a person become himself. What is interesting is that Alfred, too, is ambivalent about knowledge. While recognising its spiritual power, he treats the knowledge that is imparted to him as dynamite, hiding it in a cave as if it is something explosive and dangerous not to be touched except with the greatest care. And haven't we all seen and recognised this tendency even in the Potemkin village of contemporary politics? People really do not like political knowledge - they prefer to be lied to - and they will hoot and wail at any politician, or other public figure, who attempts to impart real knowledge to them. That is the truth. Burdekin, I feel, is incredibly astute in this respect.
And here is where I respectfully disagree with Daphne Patai (who wrote the Foreword and has studied Burdekin's work extensively). I think Alfred's reaction, in hiding the book and following the Knight's instructions to the letter, represents not the capitalisation of his rebellion, but rather his own tragic submission to the Knight and to Germany. All political systems need mechanisms of controlled opposition and intellectual suppression. By hiding the knowledge, Alfred himself becomes a 'conservative' - he makes his peace with the system, so to speak - even if he does not know it himself. It is a preface of Orwell's literary device, doublethink. That said, the Knight's own motives were as ambivalent as Alfred's. He takes the aeroplane ride with Alfred and puts his life in Alfred's hands. He is submitting wildly to chance, knowing that without issue he is very much in the lap of the gods anyway. The 'democratising' gesture of handing the book to Alfred - the 'lower class man' - is also a proverbial roll of the dice. There is every chance that knowledge will die out in the hands of Alfred or his issue, but there is also the possibility it won't, that Alfred will pass on the knowledge successfully.
What a great novel, but I suspect - sadly - Burdekin's other works will be hard to find other than through a specialist publisher.
T. T. Rogers
a review of 'Swastika Night' by Katharine Burdekin
I have long felt that Katharine Burdekin's 'Swastika Night' surpasses the other dystopian science fiction of its time, in what was perhaps the most fertile era for the genre. It is a great book and deserves to stand among the classics. How tragic that this author is not popularly known! I think the final insult for this author, as if to rub salt into an already painful wound, is that it is incredibly difficult to get hold of her more obscure works, either at an affordable price or at all.
'Swastika Night' presents a harsh social world some seven centuries into the future. It is a world dominated not so much by men but by maleness, but the men have superior status and the women are - for the most part - submissive and penned in the most horrendous conditions. The only criticisms I have of this novel are, first, that Burdekin's extrapolation seems a little esoteric and not fully-believable - though her perception is undeniable - and second, I also think that perhaps too much time is spent in static dialogue between two of the leading characters. Nevertheless, the story is well-written and once the central issues are resolved, it moves along at a pace. I really cannot add any more without exhausting the superlatives available (which would be well-deserved). The rest of this review is a more detailed summary of my thoughts on the meaning and messages in the story, and in particular how I think this novel transcends a strictly gender and class critique. I will try not to reveal too much here, but be warned there are some clues as to the plot so don't read the rest of this if you could do without spoilers.
Like most, on first reading I took the novel itself as a gender and class critique but having re-read it more recently and reflected on my own experiences, I think the author is also trying to tell us something about knowledge - specifically, political knowledge. Burdekin was not just extrapolating, in a sense - like Orwell some years later in Nineteen Eighty-Four - she was also commenting on the present and society as it is. In our determination not to recognise wrongs and injustices around us, we like to construct spatial and temporal buffers: "that sort of thing happened long ago but wouldn't be allowed here" and "that sort of thing happens over there but not here." These are ways to promote a kind of 'coerced contentment' - which has its own totalitarian quality - and in that sense, I think the characters of 'Swastika Night' are in some ways freer and luckier - even more human - than we are. We may not suffer Hermann's illiteracy or Alfred's frustrations, but for all that, Hermann and Alfred at least have seen down the rabbit hole, have experienced adventure and have lived - which is more than can be said for many in our society, in our time.
The Knight, the crucible of the story, holds in his hands the font of all knowledge, literally in every sense. What does he do with it? He hides it, sharing the knowledge only with his issue. Unlike Alfred, he sees knowledge as an unmitigated burden, but unlike Hermann, he also recognises the power of knowledge, its ultimate ability to help a person become himself. What is interesting is that Alfred, too, is ambivalent about knowledge. While recognising its spiritual power, he treats the knowledge that is imparted to him as dynamite, hiding it in a cave as if it is something explosive and dangerous not to be touched except with the greatest care. And haven't we all seen and recognised this tendency even in the Potemkin village of contemporary politics? People really do not like political knowledge - they prefer to be lied to - and they will hoot and wail at any politician, or other public figure, who attempts to impart real knowledge to them. That is the truth. Burdekin, I feel, is incredibly astute in this respect.
And here is where I respectfully disagree with Daphne Patai (who wrote the Foreword and has studied Burdekin's work extensively). I think Alfred's reaction, in hiding the book and following the Knight's instructions to the letter, represents not the capitalisation of his rebellion, but rather his own tragic submission to the Knight and to Germany. All political systems need mechanisms of controlled opposition and intellectual suppression. By hiding the knowledge, Alfred himself becomes a 'conservative' - he makes his peace with the system, so to speak - even if he does not know it himself. It is a preface of Orwell's literary device, doublethink. That said, the Knight's own motives were as ambivalent as Alfred's. He takes the aeroplane ride with Alfred and puts his life in Alfred's hands. He is submitting wildly to chance, knowing that without issue he is very much in the lap of the gods anyway. The 'democratising' gesture of handing the book to Alfred - the 'lower class man' - is also a proverbial roll of the dice. There is every chance that knowledge will die out in the hands of Alfred or his issue, but there is also the possibility it won't, that Alfred will pass on the knowledge successfully.
What a great novel, but I suspect - sadly - Burdekin's other works will be hard to find other than through a specialist publisher.
T. T. Rogers
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)