Orwell that ends well

It is 70 years since Eric Arthur Blair’s death and the BBC has been marking it with an excellent series of radio essays, documentaries and dramatisations of his life. His massive contribution to political discourse can hardly be overstated, with many of the words and expressions he coined still in regular usage and his own pen name used to describe the worst excesses of totalitarianism. Newspeak, thought crime and doublethink are pressed into service every time somebody invokes the Orwellian dystopia that some see in the world today.

But his opus, 1984, a book which, despite its name being common currency for the intrusion of state into every facet of people’s lives, hasn’t been read or understood by anywhere near as many people as use its language, was not really the prophecy many lazily think it was. It was in fact, like all of his writing, commentary on what was actually happening, as he saw it. His telescreens weren’t futurology because television had been around for over a decade when he died, but if he was prophetic about anything the smart-spy in your pocket is a manifestation of his nightmare vision.

For all the warnings over extreme surveillance of citizens’ actions, sentiments and thoughts, those most engaged in ‘the resistance’, the young, are those most likely to carry the secret agents of IngSoc in their pockets. I use IngSoc as a cypher not for English Socialism, as in the book, but for big ‘S’ socialism generally. Because, wherever it has been attempted, small ‘s’ socialism soon becomes capital. S for socialism, S for state and when the state owns you, little good ever comes of it.

And it is little wonder that this always happens, given that socialism, in Marxist theory, is a mere transitional state between the overthrow of capitalism and the institution of full Communism. Orwell’s Animal Farm was a commentary on Stalin’s pursuit of exactly this goal and yet still the left refuse to see. Orwell was that rare breed, a leftie who opened his eyes and realised that the enemy was not ‘the right’. The enemy was/is totalitarianism from whatever source. He saw the Hitler/Stalin pact and realised that these supposed opposites were actually allies in the aim of bringing the people under control.

But what about the rise of the far right, the much-feared and vaunted evil which is said to be on the march across Europe? The terms left and right, politically, derive from the French Revolution where those loyal to the king sat on the right of the president of the National Assembly, while on the left were the revolutionaries; those who would wrest control from the monarchy. I see the logical extreme of rightism as the very opposite of the mobs of socialism, with all the power vested in one, divine-like entity, the king or queen.

Which means, in my book, that mass organised movements are necessarily of the left, of revolution of – in their eyes – progress away from the status quo. It stands for upheaval and it attracts ideologues. Whereas the right stands for tradition, small ‘c’ conservatism and stability and it attracts older, possibly wiser, certainly less volatile types. Those who are, perhaps, more satisfied with the society they have played a major hand in shaping to its present form, those with misty memories of the unformed thinking of their younger days.

George Orwell is watching you

The atomisation of society into more-finely defined identity groups plays into the grasping hands of both sides. The more you lot squabble amongst yourselves the more ‘they’ win and it is the left, almost universally, who spend the most time squabbling. This is one of the things that Orwell observed and one of the sources of his despair. He rejected the devotees of Marxism even as some of them would claim him for themselves. But his message, his thoughts, his warnings are for everybody. So, do yourself a favour and instead of forever accepting what others say he wrote, read the bloody book and work it out for yourselves.

Have you seen the little piggies?

“Now, class, remember...” The learning facilitator turns to indicate two display boards at the nominal front of the young people’s learning collective. The various sub-committees of pupils, of mixed age, ability and gender identity, disengaged from their collaborations to gaze at the images. Bordered by a brave, caring, red glow, the party display showed moving images of happy, diverse communities engaged in thrilling cooperative ventures, assisting the halt and lame, collecting for charity and building a better world to the stirring music approved by the school board. They all bore the same fixed smiles that now played on the shining faces of the Junior Learners as they watched, wide-eyed and alert.

“And now...” The warm glow faded as the facilitator switched on the second display. A harsh, cold, deathly light illuminated static, monochrome scenes of an ancient and unlovely world. A world where miserable, old white people trudged through mud, pushing carts laden with broken human bodies. A world of torture and pain, of poverty and cruel injustice. A world of child labour, lives of drudge and early demise from back-breaking work and lack of medicines. The watching learners began to sob and hug each other, feeling the pain of their forebears in that lost world, filling with overwhelming empathy for the wronged and the dead.

St Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, supposedly said “Give me a child until he is seven and I will show you the man.” Whether he did or not, the principle is sound enough. What children experience in their early years can become a cross they bear forever. Catholic guilt, islamic submission... white self-loathing. A more enlightened view is that children should not be exposed to simplistic indoctrination and especially not by those charged with their education. Which brings us to that Labour party political broadcast.

Nobody is suggesting that primary school teachers bring their red, red politics into the classroom but then, how could they not? Few of us are capable of completely concealing our political allegiances – only career politicians can manage to do that – but teachers are in a unique position to influence future generations. This ridiculous broadcast suggests that Labour sees nothing wrong in doing exactly that. They also want the voting age to be lowered to sixteen or seventeen; can you see the connection, children?

Meanwhile, the real leader of the Labour Party, Len McCluskey, has been celebrating his re-election to master of the party purse strings by partying at a popular venue where champagne at £50 a bottle flowed pretty freely. George Orwell believed in democratic socialism and was profoundly concerned about social justice, but he was not uncritical of left-wing movements and his two best-known works challenged the very direction of travel of the current-day Labour Party. Animal Farm concludes: “The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.” Some things never change.

Tea, my dear?

Having stumbled upon this marvellous little essay by George Orwell, eulogising tea, I have today switched from bag to leaf and found an epiphany in the splendour of an occasional ritual.

Most mornings are a blur of joyless activity. Wake up, get up, shit, shower and shave, defrost the car, drive to work, open up and make do with an instant coffee before kick off. But recently I have rediscovered the joy of a more leisurely morning cuppa beforehand and what better time to indulge than on Sunday morning. Tea and a quiet rant at the morning papers. Chin-chin.

And, you know, Orwell's right. (He thought he was left, but much of his writing warns of what could happen when Socialism holds sway - and wasn't he just bang on?) Tea does make you feel a better man - more civilised  less European and more, shall we say, British. So, hurrah for all that! (And yes, I am aware of the slight, hidden Graves reference there - dead erudite, me.)

Of course, not everybody likes a good and manly strong tea in the Orwell style. Imagine my horror to be confronted by the following version of events:

Toast and Tea - a Southern Interpretation

Yes, in the view of my tormentor tea should be at least fifty percent milk and toast should be barely distinguishable from the original bread. I mean, what's the point?

Shoot me now.