From Politics to LiteratureA Consideration of Jonathan Swift and George Orwell

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From Politics to Literature

A Consideration of Jonathan Swift and George OrwellAparna Mahanta

Since its origins in the seventeenth century English Revolution, political journalism in England

has not only had a significant impact on the growth of modern English political institutions but hasalso influenced the development of English literary culture. This has been a process of mutual benefit

and enrichment Political journalism, which functions as a branch of rhetoric in that its aim is to per

suade, draws on the traditional resources of literature like irony and satire to achieve its effects. At the

same time, being also an attempt at objective reportage of contemporary social reality, political jour

nalism helps to widen the scope of creative literature by introducing elements into it which had earlier

been outside its purview.

This paper attempts to study the close connection, and at times even creative fusion, between

political journalism and creative literature by bringing together two representative artist-journalists,

Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) and George Orwell (1903-50), from among the many that literary history

has to offer, for comparison and contrast of their works both as to the content and the methods of

their art and reportage.

I

Political Journalism

T H E bifurcation of the reading public in

to two mutually exclusive groups, the

vulgar low-brow public and the superior

high brow one, has been a feature of the

last two centuries in England but really

became pronounced in the later half of

the nineteenth century and the first three

decades of the twentieth century. Cor

responding to the disintegration of theconcept of the 'common reader' has been

the polarisation of literature into the ex

tremes of journalism and imaginative

literature, the former coming more and

more to include all the cheap literature,

thrillers, mysteries, crime-stories and

literary hack-work while the latter

gravitates towards exclusiveness and

superior refinement. In the process, both

reflect an equal indifference to the

development of true taste and culture in

the reading public as a whole.'

In modern times jour nali sm and litera

ture have almost nothing in common,even though It is obvious that the major

literary form of modern times, the novel,

derives from the same rootstock as jour

nalism. Journalism is assumed to be the

lower species, concerned with the surface

phenomena of life, with the trivial and the

transient, in contrast to creative litera ture

which is supposed to deal with higher

values, penetrating the surface of life to

discover the true reality. Even though in

many cases the same persons may be

simultaneously engaged in both jour*

nalism and lite ratu re, they are believed to

be practised on entirely different planesas far as choice of subject matter, its ar

rangement and the style of writing are

concerned.

Charles Dickens provides an example

of the way in which journalism can at

times help the creative writer as a kind of

preparatory exploration through which

he finds his bearings in an unknown and

complex situati on. In 1854, while wr iti ng

Hard Times on the theme of industrial

relations, Dickens went to Preston to

cover a famous strike of the cotton mill

workers there. He reported the strike in

his journal Household Words in Feb

ruary 1854, His impressions there are

sympathetic to the workers who are

orderly and disciplined, though his poli

tical conclusion is conservative in that he

thinks it is a huge waste, "encroaching"

on the livelihood of thousands and

deepening the "gulf of separation" bet

weenH

those whose interests must be

understood to be identical or must be

destroyed," In the novel, Hard Times,

which was also published in weekly in

stalments in Household Words, the

creative artist takes over, transforming

and fleshing out the bare facts. He

decides not to make the strike the centreof the action as he had earlier intended,

and concentrates on individual relation

ships. His general impersonal sympathy

for the strikers becomes a deep pity for all

workers, the misguided (as he now shows

them) union members and the boycotted

wor ker , wh o are al l seen as victim s of the

general dehumanising process of in

dustrialism. In doing so Dickens distorts

aspects of the factual truth in the interests

of what he felt was the essential reality of

the situation. In his report Dickens ad

mires the order and discipline of the

strikers; in the novel they are representedas a stolid, unthinking mass swayed by

unscrupulous demagogues.

The political journa list , unlike the pro

fessional jour nali st or writ er is comm itte d

to, sometimes narrow, political interests.

The practice of political journalism pre

supposes a dedicated and often exclusive

interest in politics which is not to

everyone's taste. Theoretically politics

should be the concern of every ind ivi dua l.

The creation of the rational and free

society which is the goal of human endea

vour demands the involvement of all in

dividuals in community and national af

fairs, even if this means no more than

helping to form a consensus of opinions

thro ugh reading and discussion. In actual

practice, however, even in democratic

societies, where all political rights have

been conceded in theory, active political

activity on the part of the masses by and,

large is discouraged in the interests of,

class-domination and rule.

As against popular journalism, jour

nalism concerned explicitly and ex

clusively with political issues has from the

beginning assumed a high level of poli

tical commitment, at times passionate in

volvement, on the part of the writer.Though commercial inducements even to

the committed political journalist have

not been lackin g (the eighteenth centu ry

was notorious for bribery and horse-

trading), some kind of personal convic

tion was necessary to brave the dangers

associated with the profession right up to

the early nineteenth century. Political

jo ur na li st s had indeed to endure whi p

ping, fines, imprisonment, the pillory,

occasionally even the gibbet. Even if at

times dimly, the concept of the "public

good", in Swift's sense of the term, has

always guided polit ical journa lists.

Politi cal journ alis m in England may be

viewed as an outgrowth of the seven

teenth century revol ution . The overthrow

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of the Star Chamb er in 1641, and wit h it

of all the traditional restraints on the

dissemination of religious and political

knowledge among the common people,

which had been enforced by a rigid con

trol over and censorship of all printed

matter, opened the way for the regular

and uninterru pted fl ow of printed matter

dealing with politics and theologicalspeculation. Parliamentary censorship was

reimposed by Crom wel l in 1643 and con

tinued in one form or another t i l l 1695,

when the official censorship finally laps

ed. Parliament continued to devise ways

and means, like the notorious Stamp

Act s, t o keep the press under con tr ol , and

even as late as the early nineteenth cen-

tury, commi tted politica l journalists like

William Cobbett and Richard Carlile

continued to suffer long spells of im

prisonm ent i n defence of the libe rty of the

Press.2

Polit ical journa lism thrives only when

certain conditions exist. It presupposes a

high level of political consciousness

among the general public such as is made

possible in revolutionary periods when

the continuing class struggle or struggles

between pol iti cal groups assume the fo rm

of open conflict whether in outright

revolution or through other forms of

political activity. The 17th century was

ju ch a pe ri od wh en the emergent bo ur

geoisie in England rose in revolt against

the feudal order to overthrow it and

assume political power. During a revolution the wh ole of society is convulsed and

i l l classes are draw n in to the struggle.

Political journalism flourishes in such a

period as each faction attempts to win

over, through oratory and the written

wo r d, the va cilla ting masses to its side. In

such times political journalism achieves

itature as an extension of full-fledged

political activity. Thr ough the medium of

jo ur na li sm po li ti ca l ideas and strategies

go round between the masses and their

leaders in the battlefield and the parlia

ment.

In times of strife and struggle, the full-ength book needing time and leisure to

Arite or to read proves less useful than the

lastily written pamphlet, broadsheet or,

n modern times, 'he daily or periodical

Dress, as the medium for disseminating

nformation and ideas. Ideally, to suit its

purpose, political journalism has to be

brief, concise and readable. When truth

itself becomes an object of contention

between opposed world-views, persu-

isiveness becomes a critical factor. The

successful poli t ical journalist must

therefore be able to convinc e his wavering

leaders, wi th every tr ic k at his com man d,

whether , by a greater show of factualit y or

hetori c, that his version of events or their

plerpretation is preferable to that of

writers fr om the opposite camp. Buil t on

undisguised partisanship, the best poli

tical journalism therefore tends to appear

as a war of wits , copiously dischargi ng its

loaded shafts on the object of attack.

The rela tion between the wr ite r and the

reader of political journalism is a

straightforward and direct one. The

political journalist speaks to and for aparticular class, a religious sect or a

political faction. He must speak within

the language and cultural ethos he shares

wi th his readers. Breaking the monopo ly

of the clerical or learned class, the write rs

of the seventeenth century who ventured

to write on religious and politi cal affairs

in a po pular , manner came f ro m every

stratum of society and included unedu

cated soldiers, itinerant preachers, small

tradesmen and craftsmen as well as

educated gentry. T hey pioneered the style

of writing which the Royal society was

later to recommend to its members:.. .a close, naked, natural way of speak

ing; positive expressions, clear senses; a

native easiness; bringing all things as near

the mathematical plainness, as they can:

and preferring the language of Artizans,

countrymen, and mcrchants,bcforc that of

wits and scholars3.

While the general rules of clarity, intelligibility and simplicity apply to all

jo ur na li st s w ho have an y wish to be h eard

and taken note of in the crowd, or to

reach the largest public, they must also

take care to adapt their style for their in-tended audience. The plain style of the

seventeenth century radical propagandist

would not appeal to the sophisticated

gentlemen of the eighteenth century. The

styles and methods of political jour

nalism change with each age depending

on its special needs, as the focus of

political activity moves from one group

or class to another4.

Underlying the rise and development

of political jour nali sm is the concept of a

public or a general readership. This

public in 17th and 18th century England

was not the inert mass of the moder n consumer society but an active, vigorous

body that expressed itself through 'public

opinion'a concept which developed

alongside the other political institutions

of eighteenth and nineteenth century

England as the safeguard of the people's

rights and liberties. A t its best publi c op i

ni on acted as a cor olla ry to representative

government. So long as public opinion

was looked up to for guidance and ap

proval when the Government initiated

any political action, the people's liberties

were safe. When public opinion was neg

lected or ignored, an age of political

repression ensued. From this point of

view the political journalist became the

conscience keeper of the na ti on. Hi s voice

was heard most loudly in moments of

pol iti cal crisis and repression, organi sing,

shaping and directing public opinion

towards reasserting the people's rights

and liberties.

POLITICAL M A N

Political journalism is concerned withpolitics in its modern sense. In Shakes

peare's plays the words ''politics" and

"politicians" convey an evil impression

of manipulators, schemers, and ambi

tious self-seekers. The seventeenth cen

tury Revolution which gave birth to the

democr atic idea di d away wit h this idea of

politics as an exclusive or conspiratorial

activity. It posited the idea of political

man , uphol ding the doctrine that ail men

are free and equal, possessing in equal

degree the gift of reason. If all men were

equal in reason, they possessed the right

of political self-determination, that is,

they were free to choose how and by

wh om they were to be rul ed. The ideas of

representative government and adultat

that time, manhoodsuffrage, around

which all political activity has since cen

tred in England, first appeared in the

seventeenth century. The forms of

political struggle change from age to age,

sometimes open war, sometimes the

peaceful forum of parliamentary debate,

or violent or non-violent agitation .

In seventeenth century England, a man

could at once be a writer , politic al jour nalist and actor in the main drama. The

supreme example that comes to mind is of

Joh n M i l t on , whose peers and even lesser

men shared this renaissance capacity to

live life to the full. Milton's Areopagitica

is a work of literature but it is also a

poli tica l pamphlet writ ten on a particular

occasion, condemning a certain course of

pol iti cal actio n and suggesting another. I t

continues to be read for the Miltonic

grandeur and vigour of the prose, the

sweeping rhetoric and the thundering

denunciation. For literary critics, its

form, based on the Areopagic discourseof Isocrates and its complex logical

developmen t of the argum ent, is extreme

ly satisfying. At the same time it is no

mere literary exercise; its magnificent

and stirring ideas have continued to in

spire later genera tions. It remains at once

a work of art and a work of political jour

nalism.

With so many writers, some of them

the most notable talents of their age,

engaged in political journalism, it is

something to wonder at that such a fusion

as in Milton's Areopagitica does not oc

cur more often. Addison and Steele were

gifted writers but their political jour

nalism rarely rises beyond the mediocre.

Samuel Johnson's journalistic work is

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dull. Literary skill by itself does not en

sure automatic success in political

writing. Some of the best examples of

politica l writi ng come fr om writers with

little or no acquaintance with literature.

The writings of the seventeenth century

Levellers and Diggers like Gerald

Winstanley, Richard Overton, William

Walwyn are truly eloquent and worthy ofbeing called good liter ature , though com

ing from men of humble non-learned

backgrounds. Their work is simple and

direct writing straight from the heart and

thei r language is the liv in g language of the

common people, restrained and ordered

by sobriety and good taste. The underly

ing reason and logic of their arguments

give their style muscle and tone. Here for

instance, is a Leveller, probably William

Walwyn, protesting against the imprison

ment of the Leveller leader, John

Lilburne, in Newgate, in a pamphlet en

titled A Pearle in a Dounghill (1646):It is easier to discerne who are their Cre

atures in the House of Commons, and how

they were made theirs, constantly mani

festing themselves by their will and per-

nicious partaking against the Frcedome of

the People, by whose united endeavours,

Monopolies in Trades and Merchandize,

Oppressions in Committees, Corruption in

Courts of Justice, grosse abuses in ourLawes and Lawyers are maintained, and the

Reformation intended in all things, per

formed by halves, nay, quite perverted, and

a nicer shadow given for a substance, to the

astonishment of all knowing free-born

Englishmen, and to their perpetuall vexa

tion and danger;5

The forthrightness, directness and lack of

ornament is engaging and carries convic

t ion .

The premises governing the writing of

political journalism and literature are dif

ferent. The polit ical journa lis t dealing for

the most part with known events and per

sonalities must keep close to the facts,

paying attention to even minute details so

as to prove his credibility. Politics in the

true sense is based upon the principles ofreason, so the politica l jou rna lis t must be

skilled in logical argument. The style of

political journalism should be clear, con

cise, and direct. Images, metaphors, fig

ures of speech are usually avoided,

tho ugh when used they are usually for i l

lustrative purposes, and care is taken at

all times that they do not, as rhetorical or

naments, distract attention from the

main argument or obscure its meaning in

any way. The most persuasive thing is a

fact, failing that, an intelligent and

logical surmise. Rhetorical tricks can

enhance a good argument, but rarely can

they shield a bad one. Insincere logic is

seen through more easily than false facts

or misrepresentation.

Assumi ng the distincti on between pol i

tical journ ali sm and creative literature to

be absolute, it may be generalised that

polit ical jour nal ism has mainly to depend

upon the language of thought, of closely

reasoned argument, while literature

draws upon the associative power of

language, its ability to call up images and

feelings. The creative imagination is notbound to solid facts, it uses them as the

stepping stones to a richer and more

substantive reality, while facts are the

very life of journalism. Political jour

nalism attemps to find a rational order in

the domain of everyday, mundane reality

while creative literature endeavours,

through words, images and figures of

speech, to suggest the complexity and

multiplicity of human feeling and res

ponse to a given situation and also to lay

bare the contradictions of existence. It is

true of political journalism as of all

political writing, that it involves a one

sided approach to the problems of life in

contrast to the rich complexity of creative

literature. The partisanship which is a

prerequisite of political journalism im

plies a certain imbalance, though that in

deed is necessary if the poli tic al journa lis t

is to correct, as he desires to, the im

balances of an unjust and exploitative

society.

Journalism, political journalism and

literature interpenetrated most closely

and creatively in eighteenth century

England. At times it is difficult to drawthe boundaries of each, if only for the

simple reason that the same authors were

simultaneously engaged in all three. The

jo ur na li st , the po li ti ca l jou rn al is t and the

creative writer dealt with the same social

reality, the differences arising over the

angles from which they viewed itthe

narrowly social, the political or in terms

of a literary mode. More importantly,

they shared a common public and hence a

common language.

The eighteenth century English reading

public, though a narrow one by modern

standards, comprising the gentry and theeducated classes generally, was a very

homogeneous one, with a high level of

political consciousness nurtured by the

flourishing coffee-house culture. The

coffee-houses served as the centre for

political discussion, and general conver

sation on public matters. Party rivalry

between the Whigs and the Tories also

served to keep political excitement at a

high pitch all through the reign of Queen

Anne and into the reign of the Georges.

Party supporters appropriated coffee

houses for their exclusive use as rallyingcentres and for the distribution of poli

tical papers and pamphlets.

In the age of Alexander Pope and

Jonathan Swift, political interest was

hardly less pervasive than the literary.

Swift and Addison could assume in their

readers a developed literary taste backed

up by a good classical education and an

acquaintance with general history and

political theory. Without being a pedant,

the average eighteenth century reader was

well versed in the Greek and the Latin

classics, if not in the originals, at least inthe excellent contemporary translations

like those of Alexander Pope. Used to

reading the best literature, he was fam

iliar with literary methods and techniques

like irony, parody, satire and so on.

The close interaction in eighteenth cen

tury England between the writer and his

social environment produced a popular

style sutiable for journalism and also for

literature. This style is modelled on con

versation developed to the level of a fine

art. Seeking to follow the norms of reason

and common sense in all things the best

writers of eighteenth century England

sought clarity and good sense rather than

ornament or dazzling virtuosity in their

writings.

The novel form emerged out of the

close alignment of journalism and liter

ature in the eighteenth century. Just as

jo ur na li sm draws upon tr ad it io na l li te r

ary techniques like irony and satire for

persuasive effect, its efforts to adapt itself

to the needs of a rapidly changing society

lead to the discovery of new techniques of

realistic prose narrat ion. The relationship

between journalism and prose fiction isso obviousand so little noticedthat

Defoe's Robinson Crusoe still appears as

a fortuitous discovery rather than as a

smooth and almost natural transition

from Defoe's lifelong practice as a jour

nalist. The journalist's close attention to

every minute and trivial detail of the pass

ing scene foreshadows the novelist's con

centration on circumstantial detail to

achieve that 'direct impression of life',

that intense feeling of the lived moment

which is the essence of the novelist's art.

The jour nali st, using the literary skills of

characterisation and description to createfictional characters and situations an

ticipates the novelist's use of the techni

que of narrative fiction to create whole

new worlds populated with the creatures

of his own imagination. The difference

between the journalist 's and the

novelist's use of essentially similar techni

ques is that the journalist works within

the given pattern of social and political

reality using recognisable social and

political character types or, rather, per-

sonae, while the novelist or artist

discovers ever new and meaningful patterns through creative exploration of the

social reality, and seeks to fashion

characters at once uniquely individual

and also representatives of recognisable,

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social types.

I I

Journalism and Literature

Being journalists as well as creative

writers, Jonathan Swift and George

Orwell serve as singularly apt examples to

draw attention to the problems confronting the writer who attempts to bring

about a creative fusion of jou rna lis m and

creative literature. At the same time,

Swift and Orwell had both given careful

thought to the 'problematic nature' of the

relationship between creative literature

and journalism in their own times, and of

the impact of a rapidly developing jour

nalism on the future of creative literature.

In A Tate of a Tub ,6

Swift uses the

weapon of satire to castigate, along with

religious sectarianism, the deficiencies of

'modern' learning. In the figure of the

Grub street hack, the pseudo-'author'of the treatise, ie, the Tale itself, Swift

presents the ironic apotheosis of the

'modern ' wri ter-journalist , complete

with all appurtenances of garret-lodg

ings, semi-starvation, misplaced cocki

ness, dullness of intellect and so on. This

'freshes t' of 'mo derns ', i n the sense of be-

ing the latest, earnestly defends his age

against the imputation of being "alto

gether unlearned, and devoid of writers in

any kind", by referring to lists of titles

even though he is unable to produce the

original works which had been "hurryedso hastily off the scene, that they escape

memory". Throughout the dedication to

Prince Posterity too, Swift draws atten

tion to the ephemerality of modern pro

ductions which indeed is the hallmark

and bane of modern journalism, as

against the permanence of the classics.

The egoism of the modern writer, so

absorbed in his own writings, like the self-

sufficient spider in the Battle of the

Books, is ridiculed in the person of the

"modern author", who boasts of his

compendious treatise, written after ''long

sollicitation", to supply the "momentous defects" of modern learning, per

sisting despite all the latter's wonderful

achievements. The proud "modern"

promises that the "judicious reader" wi l l

find his treatise neglects nothing that can

be of use "upon any emergency of life"

and that it has "included and exhausted

all that human imagination can rise or fall

t o " .

This wide and delusive expansiveness

goes alongside a superficiality charac

teristic of "modern" writing, by which

Swift means the writings of his own age.

The superficiality of the modern writer is

complemented by the "superficial Vein"

in readers who, quite rightly, refuse to

"inspect beyond the Surface and Rind of

Things", because in truth, there is

nothing beneath. With the typical satiric

exuberance of the Tale, Swift exposes the

ridiculous discrepancy between "inside"

and "ou tsi de" , of pompous inflated style

stretched over a yawning vo id of nothing

ness. As in the best parody Swift's style

expresses the essence of what is being

parodied:.. .whereas, Wisdom is a fox, who after

long hunting, will at last cost you the Pains

to dig out; 'Tis a Cheese, which by how

much the richer, has the thicker, the hom-

lier, and the courser Coat; and whereof to a

judicious palate, the maggots are the best.

Tis a Sack-Posset, wherein the deeper you

go, you will find it the sweeter. Wisdom is aHen, whose Cackling we must value and

consider, because it is attended with an Egg;

but then lastly, 'tis a Nut, which unless you

choose with judgement, may cost you a

tooth, and pay you with nothing but a

Worm.

In his indiscriminating satiric attack of

literary "modernism", Swift may have

been less than fair to the scientific, if

pedantic scholarship of Richard Bentley

and others like him, but he is able, with an

astonishing prescience to hint at the pro

blems faced by a modern writer, striving

to achieve some significant order in a

bewilderingly complex wo rl d. A mon g

other things the modern writer is faced

with the problem of transcending the

fluid temporality of an insistently

material reality to discover the universalin the flux and flow of life.

Swift's intention in the tale was partly

polemical, to expose the "illiterate Scrib

blers" who made it their business to at

tack the church and the clergy through

scurrilous and ill-manner ed pamphlets. It

is to Swift's purpose to reveal the "Er

rors, Ignorance, Dullness and Villany"

of these scribblers. This he does by paro

dying their style and manner. Then, and

later, as a Tory journalist, Swift expresses

more positively and forcibly his belief,

that these "illiterate Scribblers", by

whom he means the Whig pamphleteersand writers, were a factor in the decay of

good taste, good writing", and good

language. In his lament on the decay of

good literature in the modern Whig-

dominated age, Swift was reacting more

as a writer dedicated to the classical stan

dards of literature as voiced by the Bee in

the fable of the Spider and the Bee in the

Battle of the Books, than as merely a

defeated Tor y. I n his political jour nalis m

Swift continued to stress the connection

between shallow, false thinking, and

superficial or muddled wr it in g as in his at

tacks on Steele and other Whig writers.

Swift saw the rising commercial values,

evident in journalistic hack-work and the

shelving of all true humane values in

favour of superficial pedantry as all part

of the same Whig ethos that was the spirit

of modernism.

In the twentieth century the spirit of the

eighteenth century Grub Street has spilled

over the historical confines of the actual

Grub Street. For Orwell too in the 1930s

the chief enemy of good writing and crea

tive literature was the rising commercialethos. Orwell acutely felt in his own per

son the problems faced by a modern

writer-journalist, on one side the eco

nomic pressure to produce for the market

and on the other the difficulty of shaping

the materials of modern reality, seeming

ly so very inimical to art, into a mean

ingful pattern. Keep the Aspidistra Fly

ing, an early novel which Orwell later

tried to suppress as it was so ill-written, is

a barely disguised autobiography. The

hero, Gordon Comstoek, struggles to

write poetry, good poetry, his magnum

opus being a long poem entitled London

Pleasures. He works in a book-shop

where the volumes of poetry inclu ding his

own Mice go unsold, while the demand

for the 'best sellers' is unabated. With a

heavy-handed symbolism that runs

through and ruins the book, the epitome

of modern hack-work is seen as the adver

tising jingle, a meaningless assemblage of

euphonious and soothing words, against

which the abstract imagist poetry of the

type Gordon aspires to write is rather

crudely set off. The book is about the con

flict in the mind of the hero betweenwriting unproductive, unpaying poetry,

and selling his soul to Mammon in the

advertising office. The hero muses as he

struggles through poverty and hardship

and isolation from his fellow beings, in

quest of his artistic ideal:

Of all types of human being, only the

artist takes it upon him to say that he "can

not" work. But it is quite true; there are

times when one cannot work. Money again,

always money! Lack of money means dis

comfort, means squalid worries, means

shortage of toabcco, means everpresent

consciousness of failureabove all it meansloneliness. How can you be anything but

lonely on two quid a week? And in lone

liness no decent book was ever written.

Gordon finally succumbs to the lure of

family life, fatherhood and respectability

symbolised by the aspidistra and in a final

symbolic gesture tears up the manuscript

of his long poem and throws it into the

gutter exclaiming, "Poetry! Poetry in

deed! in 1935".

When Orwell turned to politics and

political journalism in the mid-thirties,

he began to see that the threat to literature

was now also political. For Orwell lit

erature was the repository for certain

values inherent in its form and style as

much as in the content. In a series of

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essays and articles written between 1938

and 1945 Orwell attempted to define his

concept of good lit erature throug h a k ind

of sociological-critical analysis of con

temporary trends in popular literature

and the arts spanning such diverse fields as

boys' magazines, crime thrillers, comic-

post-cards and the art of Salvador Dali.

In his essay, 'Inside the Whale' (1940),Orwell sums up the main literary tenden

cies of the twenti es and thir tie s and comes

to the conclusion that it is no longer "a

writer's world", and that literature "as

we know i t " , is coming to an end. As

totalitarianism attempts to control the

minds and thoughts of its subjects, it

makes literature as the record of an in

dividual's inner life, an impossibility.

But from now onwards the all important

fact for the creative writer is going to be that

this is not a writer's world. That does not

mean that he cannot help to bring the new

society into being, that he can take no part inthe process as a writer. For as a writerhe is a

liberal, and what is happening is the destruc

tion of liberalism.7

In this state of affairs the only course of

action possible to a sincere writer is to

"get inside the whale", to surrender to

the world process, "stop fighting against

it or pretending that you control it; simply

accept it , endure it, record i t " .

On the level of popular literature the

outlook is more frightening. As examples

of the infiltration of totalitarian ideas in

the popular imagination, Orwell instances Americanised crime thrillers like

No Orchids for Miss Blandish and the art

of Salvador Dali. In both, a high degree

of technical polish is allied to an utter

amorality and lack of any positive values.

Orwell saw these trends in popular art as

an indication of the way people were be

ing conditioned to accept sadistic vio

lence, cruelty and, inevitably, totali

tarianism.

Both Swift and Orwell had a true in

stinct for literary form and techniques.

But all the same it is the political impulse,

expressed through their political journalism that has provided the direction for

their literary endeavours. Their outlook

on life, their choice of literary form and

their conception of the function of

language were shaped and determined by

their involvement as men and as jour

nalists with the great political issues of

their time. Orwell expresses the nature of

the relationship between his artistic im

pulse and his commitment to a political

ideal when he asserts that he had never

abandoned the pure artistic impulse in all

his writing and that his endeavour in the

past ten years since 1936 had been to"make political writin g into an art. " The

task had been as he saw it to reconcile the

complex of thoughts, feelings and ideas

that expressed his unique strength as a

writer with the "essentially public, non-

ind ivi dua l activities that this age forces on

all of us."8

The question is whether Orwell, like

Swift before him, was able to achieve his

purpose of breaking the barriers between

the private world of the writer and the

public world of social and political compulsions through journalism and liter

ature. As Swift does in his famous

Drapier Letters, Orwell too is able to

achieve, particularly in a series of war

time articles entitled "As I Please" writ

ten for the Tribune, a high level of com

mitted jou rna lis m. In his weekly columns

dealing with all kinds of subjects from

roses to Shakespeare, air- raids to the fate

of refugees, war-time propaganda to

books and magazines, all written in a

pleasant and casual manner, Orwell em

bodies the values for which the war was

being foughtfreedom of speech, democracy, socialism. He addresses ordinary

people with the conviction of being

understood and listened to. In their

creative writing too, persistently in

Swift's and increasingly in Orwell's, it is

possible to discern the impact of their

political beliefs, revealed and clarified

through their political journalism, both

as to content and in the organisation and

shaping of their material and in their

choice of words and images.

As the politics of their time showed

signs of getting increasingly depersonalised and abstract, Swift and Orwell, being

primarily writers rather than politicians,

helped to humanise politics. They visua

lised political issues in terms of concrete

situations and real individuals, reminding

politicians what they are very apt to

forget, that politics is a human activity

and that it is ultimately concerned with

real felsh and blood individuals. Politi

cians and intellectuals too often forget

that " i t is men that change circumstances

and that the educator himself needs

educa t ing" .9

For all their political

mistakes and shortcomings, Swift andOrwell never forgot this basic principle in

their political journ ali sm, where their aim

is consistently to involve the ind ivi dua l by

appealing to him personally and directly.

By depl oying ''persona'' in partic ularise d

situations based on the prevailing poli

tical reality, Swift and Orwell brought

politics to the level of "practical,

human sensuous activity".1 0

The Irish

common people could, for instance, easi

ly identify with the Drapier in his

resistance to English oppression and

learn from him. The writer too can par

ticipate in the political upheavals by help

ing to destroy myths and illusions, by un

covering the true face of reality and in

general by creating the consciousness far

social change. This can be done not in

isolation but in active participation with

the political movement, as fighter, as

jo ur na li st and as wr ite r.

I l l

Swift and Orwell

There are striking similarities betweenthe literary methods used by Swift and

Orwell. There is no doubt that Orwell was

deeply attracted to Swift, even more than

he cared to admit, and that in indirect

ways he was influenced by Swift's

method of satiric attack. Orwell did not

however consciously set up Swift as a

model; indeed, despite his general famil

iarity with Swift's writings, he does not

show much awareness of Swift's great

ness as a polemic writer, as the author of

the Drapier's Letters or as the Tory jour

nalist.

Both Swift abd Orwell shaped andused prose as the medium of reasoned

and at times impassioned argument.

Their extra-literary purpose which sub

sumes the purely literary gives a vigour

and direction to their writings and ac

counts for the quality of their prose*

described in Swift's case as "con-

scisencss" and the ability to drive home a

point. Indeed, Herbert Davis, Swift's

editor, clinches this point when he traces

this quality directly to Swift's experience

as a political journalist. "Swift's ex

perience as a political journalist hadformed his style and made it rigorously

functional, because he had learned in that

school similarly to be concerned 'to drive

some one particular point', for the im

mediate purpose of supporting or oppos

ing some definite course of action"1 1

. In

the case of Orwell, too, the practice of

polemical writing leads to the ideal of

"good prose like a windowpane". Orwell

frankly admits in a retrospect of his

writing career that it was only when he

lacked political purpose that he "wrote

lifeless books and was betrayed into pur

ple passages, sentences without meaning,decorative adjectives and humbug

general ly* '1 2

. In Orwell and Swift

generally, the consciousness of political

purpose results in an extraordinary

awareness of the nature and content of

literary style.

There is no doubt a certain loss when a

creative writer confines himself to the

purely political aspects of man's multi

farious being. Swift was probably not

aware of this, as he was so intensely and

personally involved in the political situa

ti on of his time. It is true his brillia nce and

wit give a surface sharpness and bright

ness to his work, but the surface hides a

certain emotional thinness, a schematism

that is opposed to the depth and multi-

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dimensionality of response and expres

sion to be found in Shakespeare, Tolstoy

or Balzac. While Swift thoroughly ex

plored the possibilities for art in his

chosen field of human experience, he,

unlike the twentieth century artist, is less

self-conscious of the enfeebling conse

quences on his art of the restricted vision

imp lie d in satire. Indeed Swift exhib its, asappears to the modern critic and readers,

a certain obtuseness regarding the ra

tionale of art functioning on various

levels over and above its avowed purpose

of mendi ng the wo rl d. Havin g the benefit

of a shared, organic world-view common

to his age Swift shows a self-confidence

hot available to his modern counterpart

who is faced with a bewildering array of

disparate experiences and sensations. Un

like Swift, Orwell, living in the frag

mented twentieth century and with a

more specialised concept of literary craft,

felt acutely the contradictions inherent inthe situation of an artist torn between his

love for the music of words and interest in

individual relations characteristic of the

novelist and his commi tmen t to a politica l

ideal of a free and just society which de

mands some sacrifice of his individualist

bias.

Thus when one places Swift and Orwe ll

side by side and looks closely at the condi

tions of their life and work, it becomes

lear that in times of political and social

crisis as in Swift' s and Orwe ll' s wor ld , the

sincere artist cannot create enduring lite

rature while ignor ing poli tical and social

reality. Besides, the artist's active as well

as imaginative commitment in such times

to the process of social change entails for

his art a certain one-sidedness, a narrow

ing down of vision even in case of gifted

men like Swift and Orwell It also in-

:roduces to the work a certain lack of

balance and deprives it of a strength that

comes from a complete and assured in-

cegrity achieved -t hro ugh the ar tistic

realisation of a movement towards a posi

tive rhythm in the life of man. Bertolt

Brecht, writing during the period ofHitler's Germany in the thirties, while

facing the same predicament as an artist

and a committed individual, expresses the

dilemma of an artist in an unjust, ex

ploitative society, which makes unmixed

Approval and delight in a "many sided

wo rl d" impossible:

And yet we know

Hatred even of meanness

Contorts the features Anger, even

against injustice

Makes the voice hoarse Oh, we

who wanted to prepare the ground

for friendliness

Could not ourselves be friendly.

Swift attacking the Whig hegemony

under Walpo le, and Or wel l, exposing the

horrors of Fascist and totalitarian

ideologies, decided that the appropriate

literary expression for these deviations

from the norms of reason demanded no

thing less than the image of a universal

madness. In the name of reason, civilisa

tion and progress, capitalism and its

modern descendant, totalitarianism

(which Orwell considered a form of state-capitalism) have allowed the basest

human instincts, avarice and power-lust,

to flouri sh, ignor ing the claims of justice

and equality and suppressing individual

liberty and freedom. In their political

jour na lism bo th Swif t and Orwe l l fought

with vigour against the rising trends

towards political despotism. As creative

artists, both used the form of satire to ex

pose and destroy what they saw as the

perversion of the rational ideal in their

contemporary societies.

Reason as a commonsensical and prac

tical apprehension of material reality bas

ed on the laws of nature, is used as the

satiric norm by both Swift and Orwell.

Swift keeps in mi nd an ideal of a pure and

uncorrupted reason which is set off

against the weak and fallible reason of in

dividual men: "Reason itself is true and

jus t, but the Reason of every particular

Man is weak and wavering, perpetually

swayed and turned by his Interests, his

Passions, and his Vices".13

In place of

reason Orwell uses the analogous concept

of "objective truth", the "common basis

of agreement, with its implication thathuman beings are all one species of

animal" .1 4

At various times Swift and

Orwell, taking up the Hobbesian analogy

of reason with the laws of arithmetic or

geometry, refer to the equation " t wo plus

two equals four" as a symbol for reason

and common sense. Swift for instance in

his pamphlet, Sentiments of a Church-of-

England-Man refers to "Hoboes' com

parison ofReasoning with Casting up Ac

counts; whoever finds a Mistake in the

sum total, must allow himsel f out ;

although after repeated trials, he may not

see in which article he hath misreckon-ed". Similarly Orwell in a book review

refers to the necessity for keeping close to

the "ordinary world where two and two

make fou r" . At the same time, bot h Swift

and Orwell did not discount the irra tion al

drives that are a part of the human make

up. To ignore the basic human impulses

as the Deist philosophers in the eigh

teenth century and rationalist intellec

tuals in the twen tie th di d was seen by both

Swift and Orwell as foolish. What was at

issue was the suprem acy of reason and its

ability, and indeed, duty, to control and

guide the passions.

In their societies Swift and Orwell saw

reason being systematically swept away

by irrational and crude forces of profit

and domin ati on. Neither of them fully

accepted the widely advertised concept of

progress in their societies as leading un

failingly to the betterment of human

society or happiness. Like many of his

humanistic contemporaries, Swift was dis

turbed at the "aggressive demands of a

utilitarian and mechanical science", as

well as by the local aberrations of individual virtuousos and quacks, the riff

raff that accompanies every movement.15

In Orwell's day too mechanical advances

were not leading to an increase in human

happiness, but to what Orwell called "the

frightful debauchery of taste", the

general debasement of standards and

values in a commercialized and profit-

oriented environment. Everyone's worst

fears about the dangers of the scientific

revolution appeared finally to be con*

firmed with the exploding of the first

atom bomb in Hiroshima in 1945. To

humanists who believed in the future of

reason in bringing human happiness, all

these developments appeared l ike

madness,16

Delusion or madness as the perversion

or abuse of reason is a dominant theme in

the creative literature of both Swift and

Orwe ll. F rom the attack on poli tica l delu

sion in their journ ali sm, Swift and Orwell

go on to create a literary image of mad

ness as a contemporary social pheno

menon. Their premise, arising from their

political reading of their society, is that

not only individuals but whole nationsand communities and social groups are

capable of collective madness. The

hysteria that grips a nation in times of war

and political crisis is akin to madness in

that the whole community behaves in an

irrational manner resorting to lynchings

and pogroms and condoning the worst

brutalities of their rulers. In the Examiner

No 24, Swift, referring to the hectic

political atmosphere then prevailing,

speaks on the theme of the people's mad

ness when pol itici ans whi p the people into

a frenzy by raising false hopes and fears.I7

Madness is indeed endemic in A Tale of aTub in the crazy structure, in the antics of

Jack and in the climactic "Digression

on madness" which draws together the

satire on the abuses of religion and learn

ing which had been the theme respectively

of the allegory and the digressions, under

the one blanket term of madness. Bedlam

becomes the symbol of the world's mad

ness. Jack in his tatter ed rags and encrus

tati on of fil th is an inmate of Bedlam; our

'author', the hack writer from Grub

Street, coyly reveals that he also has been

an inmate at one time. With devastating

satiric effect Swift equates the talents of

the Bedlamites for irrational behaviour

with the requirements for holding civil

and military office in the state. For in-

926


9/12


stance, it is the madman, tearing his

straw, "Swearing and Blaspheming,

biting his Grate, foaming at the mouth,

and emptying his Pispots at the Spec

tator's Faces", who fulfils the require

ments of an army officer and should be

sent to "Flandersamong the Res t", Ma d

ness itself is traced to the effect of certain

peccant vapours that ascend to the brainfrom the lower regions, and transpose its

parts, so that the "Fancy gets astride on

his Reason,... Imagination is at Cuffs

with the senses, and Common sense is

Kick't out of Doors"

The voyage to Laputa in Gulliver's

Travels has the most affinities with the

Bedlam scenes in A Tale. The mad philo

sophers of Laputa with their eyes turned

inward and upward are lost in inhuman

abstractions and, like the philosopher in

the Mechanical Operation of the Spirit,

are in constant danger of falling into the

Kennel, so absorbed are they in the con

templation of the stars. As they converse

learnedly or listen to the music of the

spheres, their wives elope with the ser

vants and their dependencies revolt. The

projectors in the Academy at Lagado, a

satire on contemporary virtuosos and ex

perimentalists of the Royal society, arc

shown as a species of madmen absorbed

in senseless and futile experiments like

softening marble for pillows, petrifying

the hoof of a living horse, sowing land

with chaff, and breeding woolless naked

sheep. The standard of reason and commo n sense is used by Swif t to set o f f the

folly and madness of much of the con

temporary experimental science. Even

while the projectors of Lagado were

engaged in their insane projects, the com

mon people were reduced to starvation as

crops failed and houses went to ruin, and

they,exhibiting the classic appearance of

madness, "walked fast, looked wild,

their eyes fixed, and were generally in

Rags", though in fact it was their leaders

and not they who were mad.

In the fourth voyage of Gulliver's Tra

vels, the voyage to the land of the Houy-hnhnms, the theme of madness is explor

ed in a more subtle psychological level.

The Yahoos are not mad. Not possess

ing reason, they can only behave in an ir

rational manner. Their shameless naked

ness, their shrieking, gibbering and wild

gestures, their playing with excrement,

their careful hoarding of shiny coloured

stones, and their fights over precedence

are used f or a satiric reflecti on on the fo l

ly and vice of the huma n k in d in general.

Gul live r's fin al madness is expressed wi th

more complexity. A l l through the voy

ages Gulliver, the representative of ra

tional eighteenth century man, adapts

himself to the strangest situations, shar

ing in the palace intrigues of men six in

ches high, boasting, like a stru ttin g cock,

before giants, extolling in various ridi

culous postures the glory of his own

human kind. At great cost, even at the

cost of adopting his host's perspective,

whether that be adapting to the outlook

of a midget or a giant, he is able to main

tain his human dignity. He finally meets

his match in the Land of the Houy-hnhn ms. In this last voyage the use of il lu

sion and perspective are more tricky and

complicated, beginning with the central

fiction of the reversal of the man-beast

relationship. Gulliver is nonplussed by

the loathsome beasts that looked so sug

gestively familiar, and the beasts which

refuse to behave like animals. For the first

time in his travels, Gulliver wonders

whether his brain has been disordered by

his sufferings and misfortunes. Gulliver,

true to his rational image, is able once

again, to adapt himself to the novel cir

cumstances of Houyhnhnm-land but

again at the cost of a violent, and as it

turns out, irreversible, dislocation of

reality. He shuts the Yahoos out of his

sight, refusing to loo k at his reflect ion in a

pool, because he is afraid of being re

minded of his resemblance to a Yahoo.

He needs a Houyhnhnm to guard him

from the Yahoos and flees in terror when

a female Yahoo makes amorous advances

towards him . Recoiling from the Yahoos,

he goes to the other extreme of imagining

himself a Houyhnhnm, blindly imitating

them, in their gait, intonation and habits.Expelled from Houyhnhnmland he hides

in a cave in a desert island, and has to be

dragged out and put in chains by the

sailors who rescue him. Back in England

he retreats into isolation, keeping aloof

from his family and friends, and spending

his time in conversation with his horses.

In this corrosive satire on the folly and

vice of mank ind , Swif t specifically had in

mind the perversions of eighteenth cen

tury European man, even a 'reasonable*

man, of whom Gulliver is an example. In

positing the rational Houyhnhnms and

the irr atio nal Yahoos, Swift ironi cally exploits the discrepancy between the ra

tional mask, which eighteenth century

European man presented to the world

and the reality of a crude society in which

the irrational forces of greed and power-

lust actually prevailed. Swift's anger and

horror at the irrationality rampant in his

society find an outlet in the explosive im

age of Gulliver's final madness with

which he shatters the complacency of his

unsuspecting readers.

In Nineteen Eighty-Four Orwell, not

unlike Swift in Gulliver's Travels presents

a nightmare visi on of a society in whi ch a ll

the norms of reason have been totally in

verted' The three slogans th ai sum up the

nature of Oceanian society point to this

reversal of all values. Here "War is

Peace", "Freedom is Slavery" and "Ig

norance is Tru th ". The three ministries in

charge of political, economic and educa

tional affairs arc the Ministry of Plenty

which presides over an economy of scar

city, the Minis try of Tr ut h, the main busi

ness of which is to falsify the records, and

the Ministry of Love in charge of supress-ing dissent and heresy. In a distinction

reminiscent of Swift's Houyhnhnms and

Yahoos, the population of Oceania are

divided into "proles", manual labourers

supposed to live on a purely animal, in

stinctive level, and the intellectuals, the

party members, in whom all the emo

tions, love, filial love, friendship and

loyalty arc dead or are supposed to be

dead. Reason in Oceania is synonymous

wit h party orth odoxy , which is constantly

changing and demands of the citizens the

dexterity of a juggler or a rope-dancer to

keep abreast with it. Even the most

stupidly loyal party member or the most

skilled could hardly keep up with the

rapid and totally illogical changes.

Almost anyone can commit a heresy and

end up liquidated; Parsons, the stupid

athlete, Symes, the cynical linguist,

Ampleforth, the vague poet, and finally

Winston Smith, the hero, all ultimately

suffer this fate.

Winston Smith is Orwell's version of

Everyman, the ordinary human being,

whose responses are normal, and who at

tempts to hold on to reason, reality, thetruth that two plus two makes four des

pite the party's distortions and its at

tempts, backed by torture and electric

shock therapy, to prove him wrong, Win

ston is not as self-assured as his eight

eenth century counterpart, Gulliver.

Gulliver, representative of an ascendant

ideology, has the supreme self-confi

dence of his facile rationalism. As he

steps into Houyhnhnmland, Gulliver is

almost a parody of the European Tra

veller, fingering his beads and baubles,

the white man confident of single-

handedly subduing any number of savages and Indians. Winston, a product of

the more introspective twentieth century

is tort ure d by doubts and despair. Unsure

of himself, he is reduced to a state where

his ow n past takes on an air of unrealit y so

that he wonders wheth er he is recalling ac

tual events that really occurred or only

imagining incidents that never took

place. Winston desperately clings to ob

jec ts out side hims el f wh ic h are imbued

for him with a material solidity by virtue

of their antiquity and their identification;

with human endeavour and history. They

are tangible objects in a world where ob

jec ts g oing in to a 'me mo ry hol e' are o bl i

terated, without trace even in human

memories. Winston's diary, writter

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Ann ual Numbe r May 1983 E C O N O M I C A N D P O L I T I C A L W E E K L Y

laboriously in an old notebook with an

old-fashi oned pen, the glass paper-weight

which he carries about with him like a

fetish, the etching on the wall of the room

above Mr Carrington's shop and the

scraps of half-forgotten nursery rhymes

symbolise for him an integrity of being

which he as an individual has lost.

Gullive r is at home in the wor ld. W insto nhas to build a private world of his own,

safe as he thinks, from the snooping eyes

of the Party. Winston finally realises that

his security is an illusion and that he can

not hope to retain his sanity amidst the

prevailing madness. This is underlined by

the use of irony in the climactic scene

where Winston, safely ensconced as he

thinks, in his cozy love-nest above

Mr Carrington's shop, with the heretical

;book of Emmanuel Goldstein in his

hand, reflects with some complacency

that "there was truth and there was un

tr ut h, and if you clung to the trut h against

the whole world, you were not mad". At

almost the very next moment the Thought

Police come crashing into his room to ar

rest him and Julia.

Whi le the twenti eth century man is the

.victim of an increasing alienation, there

'has been a corresponding advance in self-

awareness and a sharpened sensibility.

Emotionally Gulliver is hollow. Much is

left to the reader's imagination, and in

deed Swift seems hardly aware of the

limited consciousness of his hero. Since

Swift's time love, particularly sexualjlove, has come to assume a larger share in

the modern imagination, Gulliver , reflec

ting a Swift-like fastidiousness, flees in

terror from the amorous approach of a

female Yahoo. In Nineteen Eighty-Four

Winston's revolt is largely sexual and

directed against the puritanical attitudes

of the Party. Though Gulliver is finally

Alienated from his family the possibility

of a healthy normal life remains. Such a

normal life is no longer possible in

bceania. Love is suppressed so that it ex

ists either as gaping lust as in Winston's

encounter with a toothless old prostitute

in a squalid alley or as the unnatural

fchastity of the Junior Anti-Sex League,

or, worse st il l, as the fri gid it y and sex-

essness of Katharine, Winston's estrang

ed wife . It is a pity an d this is the novel's

Weak pointthat the only possible alter

native that is offered is Wins ton' s love for

lulia. Instead of stressing the obvious

point, that in such a sick society no

wealthier love is possible, Orwell seems,

by his non-ironic treatment of the whole

episode, to be romanticising what is

essentially a sordid affair.For O'Brien and the Party, Winst on is

Insane and needs to be cured through

beatings, torture and electric shock.

Winston's cure takes place within the

windowless Ministry of Love, the white

tiles of its rooms and the long corridor

strongly reminiscent of a hospital.

Winston's antagonist, O'Brien, refined

and benevolent, presides over the cure as

doctor, psychiatrist, and Grand Inquis

ito r. T he aim of all the ghastly tortures is

to make Winston see that two plus two

make five if the leader says so. Winston iseventually broken down by the greater

psychological expertise of the Party. Us

ing an ancient Chinese torture device aim

ed at Winston's totally irrational fear of

rats, a vestige of some forgotten childish

trauma, his tormentors are able to reduce

Winston to an "insane, a screaming ani

mal", "bl ind, helpless, mindless".

Worse still, in his broken state, he is ready

to betray everybody and everything. The

Party achieves its purpose, it has destroy

ed Winston's individual ity, his humanity,

his faith, as they had earlier smashed the

glass paperweight which Winston had

cherished as a symbol of integrity, into

pieces. The end of the book shows Win

ston a gin-sodden physical and mental

wreck, aimless, troubled by false memor

ies, lost in tearful adoration of Big

Brother.

The perversion of reason can lead to ir

rationality or bestiality or it can develop

into a rigid and inhuman mechanism.

Both states are ultim ately anti -hu man. In

A Tale of a Tub, Swift ridicules Disenting

preachers for mechanically using physical

stimuli to arouse spiritual sensations. Onthe analogy of the philosopher "who,

while his Thoughts and Eyes were fixed

upon the Constellations, found himself

seduced by his lower parts into a Ditch",

all pretenders to reason, who exalt the

spirit at the cost of the senses, have the

same trap of carnality awaiting them. In

Gulliver's Travels reason and the irra

tional impulses are polarised and em

bodied respectively in the Houyhnhnms

and the Yahoos. Gulliver, by refusing to

acknowledge the Yahoo in man and as

pir ing to the pure and somewhat mechan

ical reason of the Houyhnhnms (reason

among them is not a "point problem-

etical") forgets his basic humanity,

behaving alternatively like a beast, shun-

ning human company and hiding in a

cave, or like a mechanical creature keeping

aloof from his wife and family.

In A Modest Proposal Swift makes a

searing attack on human beastiality. The

sober matter-of-fact manner in which the

humane 'modest' projector outlines his

scheme for butchering babies at one year

old for table-meat belies the horror

aroused in the reader by the whole affair.Swift uses the technique of shock and

irony to strike at the reader's unsuspected

callousness. The Irish who live like

beasts, the readers who unwittingly ac

quiesce in the system, all come under the

satiric net. The basic satiric fiction

equates humansand to their disadvan

tagewith animals. The projector's

'modest' boast is that his scheme wi l l raise

the value of human beings to that of the

more profitable animals like black cattle,

swine and sheep. It may be remembered

that, during this period, whole com mun ities were being driven off the land to

make sheep-walks and cattle-runs which

were more profitable for their owners.

Swift's savage indignation at man's in

humanity to man overflows in bitter but

controlled satire as when he lists as one

among the advantages of his scheme that:

Men would become an fondof their wives,

during the time of their pregnancy, as they are

now of their Mares in foal, their cows in

calf, or sows when they are ready to farrow;

nor offer to beat or kick them, (as it is too

frequent a practice) for fear of a miscar

riage.In the projector's mechanical drawing-

boar d all human values, love for wife and

children arc assumed to be non-existent

(an early example of the satire on the

statistical, Blue-book dominated Utili

tarian approach, made for instance, by

Dickens in Hard Times), even though the

projector is himself married and the

father of children. The ultimate ironical

touch is the 'modest' proposer's profes

sion of disinterestedness on the ground

that he himself falls outside the purview

of his scheme, his wife being past child-

bearing, and his youngest child nine years

o l d ,

IV

Words and Ideas

As political journalists, Swift and

Orwell got first hand experience of the

manipulation of language for political

purposes. They themselves saw language

not as a natural growth that came spon

taneously but as an instrument to be con

sciously shaped and used for the human

good. As language could be specifically

used for persuasion or enlightenment, itcould equally well be misused to deceive

and mislead. As practising journalists

they were aware of their opponents'

shortcomings in this respect as well as

their own need to use words as correctly

and precisely as possible in order not to

leave any scope for misunderstanding or

misrepresentation.

In this connection it might be useful to

recapitulate the Hobbesian and Lockian

synthesis concerning the nature and func

tion of language. As in other areas of

human thought, the seventeenth centuryrevolution affected a profound change in

the attitude to language. Hobbes particu

larly, in Leviathan, shows a keen interest

in the political use and abuse of language.

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He devotes a chapter to tracing the ev olu

tion of speech, "the most noble and pro

fitable invention of all other", without

which in fact there would be "neither

Commonwealth, nor society, nor con

tract, nor peace no more than amongst

Lyons, Bears and Wolves". Hobbes

carefully tabulates the uses and abuses of

speech and contents that "True an d Falseare attributes of speech, not things"

Since speech is the expression of and in

fact is equivalent to man's cognition of

reality, errors in speech arc more

dangerous than they might ordinarily ap

pear, and can do incalculable harm if

allowed to go unchecked. Acc ordi ngly , if

a man sought truth, his first concern was

to take care of the precise meaning and

ordering of his words, "or else he wi l l

find himself entangled in words, as a bird

in lime twiggs, the more he struggles the

more be-limed."1 8

In other words clear

and rational thinking and expression are

prerequisites for a rational choice of ac

tion

Hobbes' conception of language is pri

mari ly utilit ari an, as was also Locke's, in

that they used language to disperse the

mists of error and superstition and reveal

the tr uth as they perceived it. Hobb es dis

claimed the use of ornament and elo

quence in his writings because these tend

ed to obscure meaning, though in his

plain way he was a highly eloquent and

persuasive writer. Indeed Hobbes did not

exclude from among the uses of language (to know, to communicate, to com

mand) the use of language as a source of

pleasure and delight. Politically and as a

writer, Swift's affinities are with Hobbes

rather than Locke. Echoes of Hobbes

abound in his writings as for instance the

reference in A Tale of a Tub to "Hobbes',

Leviathan, which tosses and plays with all

other schemes of Religion and Govern

ment." Elsewhere Swift speaks disparag

ingly of Locke's "new style of writing",

as when attacking Tindall's book he

refers to the latter's "canting, pedantic

way, learned from Locke11.As essentially creative writers, Swift

and Orwell delighted in the artist's use of

language for the extension and enrich

ment of the human consciousness, and

considered this use of language amongst

the most important. However they were

always acutely aware of language as a

political instrument.

For both Swift and Or wel l, language is

inextricably bound up with human

values. It embodies their deepest poli tic al

beliefs, and its abuse is felt as a moral

bl ig ht . Swif t's lifelong crusade to protectand preserve the English language did not

arise from a grammarian's pedantic con

cern for correctness but was only one

aspect of his overall political and moral

criticism of contemporary society. He

equated the decay of the English tongue

as he perceived it with the rise of money

and materialistic values which he asso

ciated with the Whig hegemony. In his

ow n wri ti ng he sets a positive standar d of

correctness and good taste believing, as

he puts it in his letter to a Young

Cler gyman, that "when a man's thoughtsare clear, the properest words will

generally offer themselves first; and his

own judgment will direct him in what

order to place them, so that they may be

best understood".

The misuse and perversion of language

is a central theme in Swift's and Orwell's

satiric visio n. I n each case the corr up tio n

of language is traced to the pol iti cal vices

against which Swi ft and Orw el l were con

tending. Once again the basic issue in

volved in linguistic perversion is a desire

to disto rt, or a refusal to sec realit y. L ang

uage, instead of being used as a means to

revelation and knowledge, is used as an

instrument to distort and pervert truth.

Thi s is done eit her by delib era te misuse of

words or by the use of an obscure and in

flated style in which all meaning is des

troyed. Language loses its vitality and

becomes a mechanical churning out of

phrasesduckspeak; this also makes pol

itical conformity that much easier. Hence

the fight for a pure uncontaminated

language was a political imperative as

Swift and Orwell both realised. By fight

ing for a pure language they were in effectfighting for the rational ideal of politics.

As Or well put i t, " to t hi nk clearly is a

necessary first step towards political re

generation so that the fight against bad

English is not frivolous and is not the ex

clusive concern of professional wri

ters".19

V

Some Conclusions

As political journalists and finally as

creative writer s, Swift and Orw ell fought

for political justice and freedom againstunjust, despotic regimes, or against a

dominant ideology. Literature itself

becomes subversive when it boldly ques

tions prevailing assumptions and refuses

to be bou nd to any ort hod oxy . Swift and

Orw ell never comprom ised wi th the pre

vailing orthodoxies. Like the greatest

literature their writings, because of their

uncompromising honesty, have the

power to shock and disturb. They attack

ed complacency, particularly of that in

sidious variety cloaked in reason. By in

sisting that man is a creature of impulsewho can, and does, behave at times like a

beast, realists like Swift and Orwell tear

away the com for tin g illusi on of man's in

herent rationalism which is used as the

cover for the worst excesses of irrational

pride. In the writings of both Swift and

Orwell the image of stripping away the

layers of illusion to arrive at the dis

agreeable reality is a compelling one.

Swift's famous images in A Tale of a Tub

of the "Woman flayed" and the carcass

of "a Beau stript" to reveal "So many

unsuspected faults under one Suit ofClo ath s" , ironically underscore his satiri

cal observation that "Cre dul ity is a more

peaceful Possession of the Mind, than

Cur ios it y" . Gulliver too is stripped of his

clothes to reveal his kinship with the

Yahoos. In Nineteen Eighty-Four, W i n

ston Smith, after prolonged torture in the

ministry of Love, is made to'look at

himself in a mir ror . Tho ugh reduced to a

physical wreck, Winston is still not cow

ed. He persists in claiming that the spirit

of man will defeat the forces of tyranny

and oppression. He feels a giddy pride as

he draws attention to the fact that he has

clung to his humanity. With a brutal

gesture, O'Brien, Winston's tormentor,

makes him stand before a mirror after

stripping off the filthy rags, all that re

mained of his clothes and tells him, "do

you see that thing facing you? That is the

last man. If you arc human, that is

humanity". Winston is not convinced.

He persists in his belief that his spirit re

mains indomitable. Only the final epi

sode of the rats strips him of all his

defences, and he is left helpless and nak

ed, screaming bundle of insane fear. Byits perversion of reason and h uma nity the

party is able to destroy reason, even more

easily, when it is embodied in one frail

human individual.

The assumption throughout this paper

has been that in both S wift and Or we ll the

creative writing by which they are

remembered and which is most typical of

their genius grew out of their journa lis tic

endeavours. In studying their choice of

theme, their treatment of the subject and

particularly their attitude to language,

the impact of their practice of political

jour na lism mus t be taken in to account if

ju st ic e is to be do ne to their un iq ue

achievements as writers. It is of course

meaningless to speculate on what they

would have written had they not been in

terested in political journalism, but it

must be admitted that the manner and

form of what they wrote was affected by

their practice of the journalistic style of

writing which has characteristic features

of its own that have been developed

throu gh the centuries. As politi cal jour

nalists they maintained a practical link

with ordinary human life such as wasbecoming increasingly difficult to the ar

tist committed to the conception of art as

specialised activity. In the writings of

Swift as well as of Orwell, the reader is

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aware throughout of a speaking human

voice directl y addressed to hi m. This is

not an illusion but results from these

writers' conception of language as a

means of direct communication between

writer and reader.

Value judgments remain. Swift is un

doubtedly the greater writer, with a

greater imaginative scope and controlover language. Further, it appears that

Or wel l as a writ er lacks that resilience, the

co-existence of laughter even with des

pair, that makes Swift such an inspiring

figure. Swift has an astringency, an in

tellectual toughness which is absent in

Orwell. This may have been due, as

Orwell himself suspected when referring

to the paucity of good polemical litera

ture in the twentieth century, to the

degeneration of the standard of English

prose style. The journa lis tic revol utio n of

the twentieth century has made it botheasier and harder for writers aspiring

to create good literature. While facility

becomes commonplace, it gets harder to

arr ive at the tellin g phrase, or achieve that

control over language that is the mark of

good writing.

Notes

1 See Q D Leavis, "Fiction and the Reading

Publ ic" , London, 1932, for a highly sti

mulating discussion of the whole pro

blem.

2 E P Thompson, "The Making of the English Working Class", Penguin, 1963. See

especially chapter 16, section I, 'The

Radical Culture', pp 719-804.

3 Thomas Sprat, "History of the Royal

Society", quoted in B Wiley "Seven

teenth Century Background", London,

1934, p 212.

4 This point is admirably illustrated by

James L Boulton in his book on the late

eighteenth century political journalists,

"The Language of Polities", London,

1963.

5 A L Morton (ed), "Freedom in Ar m: A

Selection of Leveller Writings", SevenSeas Book, Berlin, 1975, p 84.

6 "A Tale of a Tub e" edited by A C Guth-

kelch and D Nichol Smith, Clarendon

Press, Oxford, 1958. All references are to

this edition.

7 "The Collected Essays, Journalism and

Letters of George Orwell", edited by

Sonia Orwell and Ian Angus, Penguin

Books, Harmondsworth, 1970 (hence

forth CEJL), Vol 1, p 576.

8 Ibi d, I, p 28

9 Kar l Marx, 'Theses on Feuerbach', Marx

and Engels, "Selected Works", Vol I,

Progress Publishers, Moscow, 1969, p 13.

10 ib id , p 14.

11 Herbert Davis, "The Conciseness of

Swift in "Essays on his Satire and Other

Studies", Oxford University Press, 1964,

p 218.

12 CEJL,I,p30

13 'On the Tr ini ty' , The Prose Works of

Jonathan Swift, Vol IX, edited by

Herbert Davis et al, Blackwell, Oxford,

1939-68, p 116.

14 CEJL , I I , pp 295, 296.

15 See R F Jones, T he Background of theAttack on Science in the Age of Pope', in

"Eighteenth Century English Literature"

(ed) James L Clifford, OUP, 1959, p 77.

16 "The Philosophies that have been in

spired by scientific technique are power

philosophies, and tend to regard every

thing non-human as mere raw naterial.

Ends are no longer considered; only the

skillfulness of the process is valued. This

also is a form of madness." Bertrand

Russell, "History of Western Philo

sophy", 1946, p 482.

17 The Prose Works, I I I , pp 64-65.

18 Hobbes 'On Speech', in Leviathan,

Everyman's Library, pp 12 ff.19 'Politics and the English Language',

CEJL, IV, p 157.

On this point see also M S Prabhakar,

'Orwell, Swift and the English Lang

uage', Journal of the University of

Gauhati, XIX; Arts, 1969.

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Documents

From Politics to LiteratureA Consideration of Jonathan Swift and George Orwell