I’ll start with what I didn’t like because there wasn’t that much of it. Perhaps it’s the speed with which Orwell constructs a whole world, complete with politics, economics, social customs and habits and some semblance of history, within a few hundred pages but I felt some parts of the narrative where left unsatisfactorily unexplained. In learning about Winston Smith’s life in dystopian Oceania we encounter memories of his passionless, party fanatic wife. Meanwhile he is currently in the throes of an illicit love affair with Julia. I should say, I presume it to be illicit given the rigamarole involved in its execution. However, this begs the question as to why it’s forbidden. Is it because she is too young? Or because he is married? How did he meet his last wife? How does one court in a party approved manner? How did they separate? Where is she now? Smith indicates that he knows she is alive but there is scant explanation of the means he uses to acquire this knowledge. How did they part ways? Could he get a divorce? Would there be a way of him meeting other women in a party sanctioned fashion after that? Why does the party disapprove of his relationship with Julia so long as they both love Big Brother and are loyal party members? In short, the wife raises more questions than she merits given her importance as a character and I found this annoying. In any case, the separation is problematic and clumsily handled insofar as it goes almost totally unexplained. I almost expect a party maniac, as she is described, to take vengeance on Smith for the failure of their marriage. The possibility is discussed and the wife is dismissed as too stupid to realise her husband’s dissent although this isn’t totally convincing.
As well as the topic of romantic love, the topic of familial love is treated in an unusual and radical way. People still hold attachment to children, albeit in a nightmarish inversion of normality, and have not surrendered them to common ownership but are said not favour their children over the interests of others or the Party. This strikes me as highly unlikely because you can see from the example of Communist countries that many people still favour their families even when it is strictly against their system of government; indicating it is a deeply held inclination. Possibly to the extent it is genetically hard-wired. Also, characters in the book express some tenderness or preference for their own children including Smith’s detestable next door neighbour who’s proud of his daughter for reporting him to the secret police! Another example might be the man Smith sees in prison who offers to kill children in exchange for not being taken to room 101, which seems to indicate the offer still held currency as demonstration of a last resort.
These are two very minor criticisms of an otherwise impeccably constructed nightmare! Orwell’s wonderful, readable prose captures a dark, oppressive, anaemic impersonation of normal life and shows it to us in depressing, dystopian detail. It is beautifully constructed, from the foundation of the political-economic functioning of the world, to the frightening familiarity of “newspeak” and “doublethink”. If the under-explanation of love and family in Oceania stood out to me it is largely because so much is explained in such a lucid way. Orwell has captured the feeling of being in a country like North Korea, China, Vietnam or Russia and reproduced it via amazing details like the smell of cabbage everywhere that may not literally be true but bring to mind the exact mental sensation one experiences even in the absence of that particular smell! In this sense, it seemed to me to be quite a pro-capitalist novel. Smith’s joy at purchasing items on the black market seems to be a strong endorsement of the beauty and happiness that can arise from capitalism especially when considered in comparison with Oceania.
Underlying the political functioning and aesthetics of this New World, Orwell masterfully riffs on the seemingly infinite adaptability and changeability of humanity. Most of the menace in 1984, for me, comes from the fact that it is all entirely possible! Our link with the past and historical truth are very fragile and subjective and could easily be manipulated. As O’Brien mansplains in such chilling detail, the past doesn’t exist in any location, only in memories and in historical records. So if you can change these you can change the past. As O’Brien says:
"only the disciplined mind can see reality Winston. You believe that reality is something objective, external, existing in its own right. You also believe that the nature of reality is self-evident. When you delude yourself into thinking that you see something, you assume that everyone else sees the same thing as you. But I tell you Winston that reality is not external. Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else"
Or even more terrifyingly, during one of their sessions in Room 101 when they discuss how many fingers O’Brien is holding up in front of Smith:
"sometimes Winston. Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You must try harder. It is not easy to become sane"
We are what we believe and, in a very real sense, this must accord quite closely to what others think or else we risk exclusion from society as insane or, in the case of Oceania, re-education or death. These are terrifying and interesting questions for anyone, in any society to ponder. The explanation of how dissidents are ‘vapourised’ to avoid leaving any historical trace that could later be construed as a martyrdom is suitably ruthless and efficient.
The need to continually foster war and feelings of hatred seemed to me to capture very succinctly the necessary mental climate for successful oppression:
"fear, hatred, adulation and orgiastic triumph"
This phrase would be equally at home in descriptions of Nazi Germany, Communist China or ISIS governed Iraq. The psychological strategy is the same and, if executed correctly, it can be remarkably effective. On a slightly lighter note, the treatment of boot production statistics reminded me a great deal of watching Bloomberg TV while a stream of meaningless statistic are blabbered out in frenzied tones:
"62m was no nearer the truth than 57m, or than 145m. Very likely no boots had been produced at all. Likelier still, nobody knew how many had been produced, much less cared"
Although in our society, we DO care even though the statistics in question maybe almost as dubious. Does that make us akin to jibbering party fanatics because we aren’t questioning the source or purpose of what is being presented to us as fact? Again, interesting questions for anyone, regardless of their beliefs about what type of society they inhabit!
At the end of the book, I felt an instinctive repugnance to the solution offered to Smith by O’Brien in Room 101. If reality is simply perception, what’s the difference between choosing O’Brien’s perception over one that we held prior to that? However, again, I feel an instant impulse to reject this and argue for the primacy of my own free, empirical experience even though I know this too could be defective. Even though Smith’s decision to yield is rational and understandable. I still feel sad, like something has been lost in a battle between truth and falsehood despite having no clear concept of who is fighting this battle or where it is taking place! Rationally, I think it probably doesn’t matter what version of reality you choose to believe in as time will march on and it will all eventually signify nothing. But then why does invoke such strong feelings to the contrary? Perhaps that is some evidence of the power of Orwell’s story.
No comments:
Post a Comment