Showing posts with label Nineteen Eighty-Four. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nineteen Eighty-Four. Show all posts

Friday, 17 August 2018

Orwell Exposes The Soviet Myth

A review of 'Animal Farm: A Fairy Story' by George Orwell

Note: The following review was originally published at Amazon.co.uk on 17th. September 2015. 

'Animal Farm' is subtitled 'A Fairy Story', and like any good European fairy story, this one features a number of grotesque characters and folk villains brought to life in animal form. Yet in truth, 'Animal Farm' is not a fairy story at all (though as explained below, it reads like one and has many of the genre's literary elements). It is more properly considered an allegory. Like Orwell's magnum opus, 'Nineteen Eighty-Four', 'Animal Farm' is a critique of the politics of Orwell's time: in this case, specifically what became known as ‘Russian Communism’. For the first edition, published in 1945, Orwell himself wrote this of 'Animal Farm':

"It is the history of a revolution that went wrong - and of the excellent excuses that were forthcoming at every step for the perversion of the original doctrine."

Orwell recognised that the Soviet Union was essentially a lie: based on a fake ideology and a corruption of true communism and socialism. This insight forms the subtext of his allegorical critique, but the story also resembles a ‘fairy tale’ in a literary sense. In ‘Animal Farm’ the animals can talk, and in common with the fairy tale tradition, it is ‘animal wisdom’, not human wisdom, that is central to the story’s message. Orwell even gives the animals’ fictitious collective ideology a name – Animalism. What is less clear is Orwell’s own attitude to the true goals and ideas of naïve Animalism (which is allegorical to true socialism and communism). Orwell possibly thought there was something fairy tale-like about the notion that the animals can live together under some kind of self-government of democratic ownership, and if so, ‘Animal Farm’ could be seen as a rejection of socialism/communism itself. Or it may be that Orwell believed the fairy tale to be Stalin’s Russia and the utopian image that some Leftists in Britain and elsewhere in the West ascribed to it. My guess would be a combination of the two, and I am not convinced that Orwell properly understood socialism. It’s likely that ‘Animal Farm’ (and indeed ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’) was really a critique of Stalinism rather than Bolshevism/state-socialism per se. Orwell was not attacking the Russian Revolution itself, which he probably thought might lead to a human form of Animalism; he was really attacking what he saw as its corruption under Stalin.

The quote of Orwell that I reproduce above lends credence to this interpretation, as does the following from Orwell’s preface to the Ukranian edition of the book. In reference to the uncritical enthusiasm for Stalin’s Russia among 1940s British intellectuals, Orwell opines:

“This has caused great harm to the Socialist movement in England, and had serious consequences for English foreign policy. Indeed, in my opinion, nothing has contributed so much to the corruption of the original idea of Socialism as the belief that Russia is a Socialist country and that every act of its rulers must be excused, if not imitated. And so for the past ten years I have been convinced that the destruction of the Soviet myth was essential if we wanted a revival of the Socialist movement.”

Like its literary cousin, ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’, ‘Animal Farm’ is emphatically a pro-socialist work (at least, 'socialism' as Orwell understood it). But there are also more general lessons about revolution here. A crucial moment in the plot comes when the animals realise that the Rebellion was for the benefit of its leaders, not the animals collectively, who largely remain ignorant and illiterate and dependent on their pig-guardians. Orwell's message is that a true revolution must involve a raising of popular consciousness, otherwise it is merely a swapping of leader personalities. Now to the story.

The plot unfolds at a place called Manor Farm, which is run by Mr. Jones, who (along with Mrs. Jones) I suppose is meant to represent the royal family overthrown during the Russian Revolution. It is not explained how or why, but the animals seem to have had a political awakening, though some are more politically conscious than others. One day they decide to revolt and take over the farm. This is only a small part of the story, because the main concern of Orwell is what happens when the animals have to live together under apparent self-government. One thing that people do not often comment on when discussing ‘Animal Farm’ is the way that Orwell socially classifies the animals according to their innate differences, in a way that echoes Huxley’s novel ‘Brave New World’.

Typically the interpretation applied to ‘Animal Farm’ is that these differences are social, but this does not, and cannot, fit with the use of animals to tell the story and I have often wondered whether the exploitation of innate differences in the capabilities of the different animals was intentional on Orwell’s part or just an accident. Whatever is the case, it is undeniable that these differences between the animals, and the distinctive characteristics of each type of animal, are pivotal to the dynamic of the story and cause most of the tension and drama and do seem to convey a message that Orwell might not have intended: that human beings are themselves different and unequal and that these differences might have some basis in the social groups that humans form and in the sub-consciousness of people. Orwell might have been merely stating a fact when he had one of his animal characters change a written commandment of the Rebellion from “All animals are equal” to “All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others”.

‘Animal Farm’ is a story rich with social and political allegory, right down to the minutest plot detail. Volumes could be written on that subject alone. Here I’ll just concentrate on one or two of the major character selections. The pigs are the cleverest of the animals and teachers of the other animals in the ways of Animalism. They form the leadership of the Rebellion. The pigs then govern the animals, betraying the original ideals of the revolution. They can be regarded as the Bolsheviks of the story. They teach themselves to read and write and then elucidate the principles of Animalism in a series of written commandments that change over time. It is this theme of change in ‘Animal Farm’ that forms an important part of the story. Initially Animalism is idealistic. Major, a large pig who appears at the beginning of the story, is an allegorical composite of Karl Marx and Vladmir Lenin, whom Orwell, in his naivety about socialism, probably saw as representing much the same ideas ideologically and praxically. Major represents Animalism in its stage of purity, almost as a religious faith, prior to any practical application. He sets out the vision, which Napoleon and Snowball, then apply. They are the two cleverest pigs and leaders of the Rebellion, but they do not entire share the same outlook on how Animalism might work in practice. Napoleon is the ‘Stalin’ figure, whereas Snowball seems to represent Trotsky. It is Napoleon who brutally twists naïve Animalism into an ideology of raw power, inducing the animals to shift their loyalty from noble ideas to an institution and their Leader, ‘Comrade Napoleon’. Napoleon succeeds largely because he is able to rely on the poor memory and passivity and cowardice of the animals, in that they either do not remember how things once were, or refuse to act on this knowledge or simply remain ignorant of the contradictions and double-standards around them. What assists is the clever use of simplified language by the ruling pigs, which enables them to set the parameters of the animals’ thoughts about their social environment. Simple slogans can also be changed quite easily in significant ways. These are themes that Orwell takes up to great effect in ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’, and is a recurring theme in politics today. Gore Vidal once described the body of politics of his native country as the ‘United States of Amnesia’, a reference to how the population can be simply manipulated by allowing past events to escape down the memory hole.

Some of the allegorical identities are a little more obvious. Squealer represents the Russian media, who were complicit with Stalin’s brutal regime. The greater majority of the animals represent the working class, Orwell’s clear point being that the capitalist social relations of production continued to exist within the Soviet Union, notwithstanding the ‘revolution’, with a capitalist class and a working class, the latter represented by the majority of the animals. However, there are nuances among these majority animals: while the sheep represent the masses and the horses also represent the loyal working class, the status of the birds and hens is less clear. The hens, responsible for egg-laying, which is seen as an important part of production at the farm, represent the farmers who were dispossessed and starved during the enforced collectivisation of the agricultural sector in the Soviet Union from 1928 to 1940. Meanwhile, Moses, the black raven, represents religion. Although the pigs are contemptuous of what Moses preaches to the animals, they nevertheless allow him to remain on the farm and even sustain him “…with an allowance of a gill of beer a day.” The dogs represent the security apparatus of the repressive Soviet state.

I always enjoy re-reading ‘Animal Farm’ – it’s one of those works that you don’t tire of, and I like that it has a rustic, English feel to it. Orwell is my favourite writer, mostly I think because he is that most English of authors and able to articulate an English sense of radicalism and socialism. He also has a very plain writing style, which makes his works accessible to almost anyone. He now has a reputation as a sort of left-intellectuals’ writer, but he was in reality a populist and deserves to better-known among the ordinary public than he is. That said, you probably do need some level of political literacy to enjoy ‘Animal Farm’ properly. It can’t be read at face value as just a ‘story’ or indeed a fairy tale. You need to have some understanding of Orwell’s agenda to fully appreciate and enjoy the book, so some background reading on Orwell, his political ideas and the historical period might enhance your experience of ‘Animal Farm’ - if political theory and similar subject matter are new to you. Particular historical areas covered in ‘Animal Farm’ include the Russian Revolution of 1917; the Lenin’s New Economic Policy of the 1920s; the Soviet famine of 1932-33; the Great Purge of 1936 to 1938; the German occupation of the Soviet Union between 1941 and 1944; the Teheran Conference of 1943, between Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin; and the remainder of the Second World War in Europe. Areas of political theory dealt with especially include the differences between Leninism, Trotskyism and Stalinism respectively.

The edition I read contains an introductory note by Peter Davison, not Malcolm Bradbury. There is also an English translated preface to the Ukrainian edition (Appendix II), written by Orwell himself, which I quote from above. There is additionally Orwell’s preface to the first edition (Appendix I), which was not included at the time. This is titled ‘The Freedom of the Press’ and is a critique of the ‘Russomania’ [Orwell’s phrase] that existed among the ‘intelligentsia’ when ‘Animal Farm’ was published. Orwell’s contention is that it was pro-Stalinist feeling that led to soft censorship of the book among publishers, on one occasion at the urging of the Ministry of Information. This censorship took the form of refusals to accept the book or requests for significant changes. This preface is quite an eye-opener, revealing the sycophantic attitudes to the Soviet Union among British intellectuals of the 1940s. Some parts of the preface that discuss the censorious attitudes of the modern Left could almost have been written today. The following passage I think sums up Orwell’s message and resonates with our time:

“One of the peculiar phenomena of our time is the renegade Liberal. Over and above the familiar Marxist claim that ‘bourgeois liberty’ is an illusion, there is now a widespread tendency to argue that one can only defend democracy by totalitarian methods. If one loves democracy, the argument runs, one must crush its enemies by no matter what means. And who are its enemies? It always appears that they are not only those who attack it openly and consciously, but those who ‘objectively’ endanger it by spreading mistaken doctrines. In other words, defending democracy involves destroying all independence of thought. This argument was used, for instance, to justify the Russian purges….These people don’t see that if you encourage totalitarian methods, the time may come when they will be used against you instead of for you.”

Thursday, 9 May 2013

'Nineteen Eighty-Four'

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

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