Orwell, Language, and Liberty: Part Two

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1984, George Orwell, Newspeak, political discourse, Politics and the English Language

The following post is the second of two installments by department work study Rachel Bauman. Part One can be viewed here.

Orwell clearly ties his thoughts on current political discourse to the state of language itself in his 1946 essay “Politics and the English Language,” and these opinions are an integral part of Orwell’s commentary on the totalitarian state in Nineteen Eighty-Four. He begins the essay by asserting that “the English language is in a bad way,” a situation whose origins, he believes, stem from problems in the political sphere (“Politics” 143). Orwell posits a vicious cycle of language degradation, a kind of reciprocity in which “foolish thoughts” lead to sloppy language, and imprecision of language contributes to foolish thoughts (“Politics” 143). It is thus a linguistic renewal which must occur in order to improve the level of political discourse, and Orwell argues that such a change is possible if prose writers, and particularly political writers, would turn away from the “staleness of imagery” and “lack of precision” which belie a “mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence” (“Politics” 143-5). It is on this basis that he constructs Newspeak as one of the Party’s main methods of controlling minds in Nineteen Eighty-Four (Bolton 154).

Newspeak is a tool of the Party; according to Orwell’s appendix to Nineteen Eighty-Four, the language was created “to meet the ideological needs of Ingsoc, or English Socialism” (Nineteen 312). Winston, the novel’s protagonist, receives an explanation of the principles of Newspeak from Syme, a Party philologist. Syme clarifies that, in his belief, “Newspeak is Ingsoc and Ingsoc is Newspeak” (Nineteen 55). They depend on the existence of one another, and both wield power over the individual, subsuming their identity into the mentality of the collective. Newspeak’s aim, according to Syme, who is working on the eleventh edition of the Newspeak Dictionary, is to “narrow the range of thought” by systematically narrowing the vocabulary, an idea that corresponds with Orwell’s linguistic determinism— that is, the theory that the structure and content of a given language dictates its speakers’ range of thought (Nineteen 55). By limiting language, then, the Party can control minds, ensuring that “a thought diverging from the principles of Ingsoc… should be literally unthinkable” (Nineteen 312). With this loss of language comes a loss of liberty—for example, words associated with political freedom, such as “liberty” and “equality,” are subsumed into crimethink and become independent of any meaning other than being associated with thoughts against the Party; other words which could be used to express anti-Party sentiments are deleted entirely from the lexicon (Nineteen 318). Essentially, Newspeak is a combination of Oldspeak words for everyday things and activities, purged of any meanings other than innocuous ones; words created by the Party “to impose a desirable mental attitude upon the person using them,” and specialized scientific jargon (Nineteen 313, 316, 322). It is with this power of limiting language that the Party aspires to perpetuate its social structure, subjugate its citizens, and create its own truth in order to have complete power over its people.

In Nineteen Eighty-Four, Orwell makes a potent case against totalitarianism by satirizing the elements of the ideology he saw in his own society. Orwell sees politics and language as intricately linked, and the consequences of this relationship play out on a grand scale in Ingsoc. Language is the currency of the Party— it gives the Party the ability to control society as a whole, individuals, and history. With these three elements combined, the Party has the ultimate power to define reality as it sees fit. Orwell calls for a return to awareness: he “wishes us to be attentive to our use of English because he wants us to be alive to our beliefs”—mere passivity will not do (Bailey 43). As Winston writes in his diary, “Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows” (Nineteen 84). Where a reflective, unfettered spirit of language is preserved, so too is liberty.

Orwell’s commentary on the state of the English language in political discourse is strikingly relevant today in our media-bombarded society. From the twisted words of campaign ads to the squawking of partisan pundits, current political discourse brings with it an unsettling sense that we’ve heard it all before. Perhaps, as Orwell feared, the language we use to talk about politics has narrowed—whether by simple attrition or by the limitations, even implied, imposed on it by government and society as a whole. We would do well to heed Orwell’s call to use language carefully and critically, with an appreciation for nuance. Language is too valuable, too integral to our reasoning, to be squandered on trite talking points.

 

Works Cited and Further Reading

Bailey, Richard W. “George Orwell and the English Language.” The Future of Nineteen Eighty-four. Ed. Ejner J. Jensen. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1984. 23-46. Print.

Bolton, W. F. The Language of 1984: Orwell’s English and Ours. Oxford: Blackwell, 1984. Print.

Newsinger, John. Orwell’s Politics. New York: St. Martin’s, 1999. Print.

Orwell, George. Nineteen Eighty-four. London: Secker & Warburg, 1997. Print.

Orwell, George. “Politics and the English Language.” Inside the Whale and Other Essays. London: Penguin in Association with Secker & Warburg, 1957. 143-57. Print.

Orwell, George. “The Prevention of Literature.” Inside the Whale and Other Essays. London: Penguin in Association with Secker & Warburg, 1957. 159-74. Print.

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Orwell, Language, and Liberty: Part One

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1984, communism, George Orwell, socialism

The following post is the first of two installments by department work study Rachel Bauman.

George Orwell (1903-1950) was a profoundly political writer, with his opinions shaped by his experience with the world wars, revolutions, and political upheaval which characterized the period in which he lived. Though he is arguably best known today for his novels Animal Farm (1945) and Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), Orwell also wrote prolifically on the political issues of his time, from the problems of British imperialism to his concerns about the Soviet Union (Newsinger x). Though Orwell’s novels were embraced by the political right in both the United States and the United Kingdom, he was actually a staunch advocate for socialism who sought to comment on the corruption of socialism by totalitarian regimes (Newsinger x-xi). Much of his criticism of contemporary totalitarianism, and the general political climate of his time, focused on the significance of language in both freeing and oppressing people, perpetuating social hierarchy, and defining truth and reality (Bolton 15, 143, 154). In Nineteen Eighty-Four, language serves all of these purposes. Language is power, and power is the Party’s ultimate goal— thus, in order for the Party to gain power “not… over things, but over men” (Nineteen 276), the Party must control language and all that it entails.

In order to better understand Nineteen Eighty-Four, it is important to first gain a clearer understanding of Orwell’s political views and their development. After a five-year stint with the Indian Police in Burma, beginning in 1922, Orwell emerged from the job a hater of imperialism and a “determined opponent of authority and supporter of the downtrodden” (Newsinger 2-3). This formative time in Orwell’s life led him to adopt what Newsinger calls “a particular idiosyncratic brand of revolutionary socialism,” and he was conscious of its possible applications in the context of twentieth-century Britain (21). This rosy revolutionary idealism soon faded when, in late 1936, Orwell went to Barcelona and signed up to be a member of the POUM militia in Spain, a group that advocated for a complete revolution and subsequent dismantling of the “bourgeois state” (Newsinger 44-5). Orwell’s negative encounters with revolutionary Communists and their brutal tactics led to his claim that “Communism is now a counter-revolutionary force… using the whole of their powerful machinery to crush or discredit any party that shows sign of revolutionary tendencies” (qtd. in Newsinger 59). This distaste for Communism continued throughout Orwell’s life and was a driving force in his later works, such as Nineteen Eighty-Four (Newsinger 89).

Orwell (Eric Arthur Blair) during his politically formative years in Burma

The imminent approach of war in the late 1930s shifted Orwell’s political perspectives still more. When Britain finally declared war on Germany on September 3, 1939, Orwell, who was originally anti-war, switched to a kind of “revolutionary patriotism”—he hoped that the war would provide an opportunity for socialist ideas to take hold in Britain (Newsinger 62, 66). By the end of 1942, Orwell abandoned these prospects as unrealistic; even so, he remained a socialist (Newsinger 89, 97). His political beliefs were anchored in a strong opposition to the Communism of the Soviet Union, which he believed had bastardized the ideals of true socialism (Newsinger 110). Socialism in Orwell’s mind was “a democratic classless society where private property had been replaced by common ownership of the means of production”—it was nothing like the totalitarian regime which emerged in the post-war Soviet Union (Newsinger 112, 119). Orwell was particularly disturbed by the public’s lack of understanding about the distinctions between socialism and communism as it was being practiced in the Soviet Union, and it became his goal to dispel this false notion in order to restore respect for socialist ideas (Newsinger 110). With this goal in mind, Nineteen Eighty-Four should be viewed as not an attack on socialism, but rather as a satire of totalitarianism, which Orwell viewed as “the culmination of a trend in his own time that alarmed him” (Newsinger 130, Bailey 40). Not a prophetic vision, exactly, but a satirical projection of where Orwell’s conception of the toxic political climate, if not rectified, might lead (Bailey 23-4, Bolton 151).

 

Works Cited and Further Reading

Bailey, Richard W. “George Orwell and the English Language.” The Future of Nineteen Eighty-four. Ed. Ejner J. Jensen. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1984. 23-46. Print.

Bolton, W. F. The Language of 1984: Orwell’s English and Ours. Oxford: Blackwell, 1984. Print.

Newsinger, John. Orwell’s Politics. New York: St. Martin’s, 1999. Print.

Orwell, George. Nineteen Eighty-four. London: Secker & Warburg, 1997. Print.

Orwell, George. “Politics and the English Language.” Inside the Whale and Other Essays. London: Penguin in Association with Secker & Warburg, 1957. 143-57. Print.

Orwell, George. “The Prevention of Literature.” Inside the Whale and Other Essays. London: Penguin in Association with Secker & Warburg, 1957. 159-74. Print.

An Evening with Doris Kearns Goodwin

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doris kearns goodwin, leadership, Messiah College, theodore roosevelt, william howard taft

The following post was written by senior Rachel Bauman, department work study and blog manager for the 2014-15 school year.

Doris Kearns Goodwin with college president Kim Phipps. (Image courtesy of Messiah College.)

On October 30, I had the pleasure of being in a sold-out Parmer Hall, hearing renowned historian and Pulitzer Prize-winning author Doris Kearns Goodwin speak on her newest book, The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the Golden Age of Journalism. Goodwin is perhaps best known as the author of Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, which was adapted into the critically-acclaimed 2012 film Lincoln, directed by Steven Spielberg.

Goodwin admitted that her interest in strong leadership has framed her studies thus far; she has written extensively about some of the most dynamic presidents in American history, including FDR, Lincoln, and now Theodore Roosevelt. Some of our best presidents showed their strength in times of national crisis. But, Goodwin noted, there were no large-scale crises during the presidency of Theodore Roosevelt. What then contributed to TR’s leadership? She outlined ten characteristics that defined leadership to her, including conquering the self, resolutely addressing the problems of the time, and taking criticism “with grace.” TR conquered his sickly childhood through rigorous self-training. As President, he took steps to address the social crises that came with the industrial revolution, like poor working conditions, unsanitary food production, and monopolistic business practices. And TR was well-known for his rapport with journalists of every persuasion; he even invited some of his fiercest critics for meals at the White House!

“He adored being president,” said Goodwin of TR. He was a master communicator and traveled around the country more than any previous president, talking simply and persuasively to the American people about citizenship and the importance of virtue. Because he had already been in office for seven and a half years following the assassination of William McKinley, he decided not to run in 1908. He put his full support behind his Secretary of War and close friend William Howard Taft, who he was sure would carry out his progressive policies. Unfortunately, noted Goodwin, “not everyone who is number two is meant to be number one,” and Taft’s kindly personality was not well-suited for an effective presidency. This led to a rupture in Taft and TR’s relationship, reaching its peak during the 1912 election season when TR, who failed to secure the nomination of the Republican Party, ran under the Bull Moose Party of his own creation. The Republican votes were split between Taft and Teddy, and Democrat Woodrow Wilson won the election. Before Roosevelt’s death in 1919, however, he and Taft were fully reconciled, which was a joyous occasion for both of them.

Interspersed throughout Goodwin’s summary and discussion of her book were lively stories about her time working with Lyndon Johnson when he was President and later as he wrote his memoirs at his Texas ranch. Johnson opened up to Goodwin, whom he hired even after she wrote a condemnatory article about his handling of the Vietnam War, about his concerns that the war would tarnish his reputation. She recounted that LBJ was always working—even while floating in his pool, and that his only real solace from the stresses of the presidency was found in the support of his wife, Lady Bird. Goodwin also discussed her childhood love of storytelling, which led her to become the “narrative historian” she is today, and her experience working with Steven Spielberg and Daniel Day-Lewis on Lincoln. Goodwin also noted that Spielberg has already purchased the rights to her new book on TR and Taft, which is sure to be impressive.

The most memorable part of the evening for me was during the question and answer session, when Goodwin considered whether or not her great love for the historical figures she studies clouds her objective judgment about them. She stated that her research always begins with respect and admiration of some kind, and a desire to like the person she’s researching—after all, she has to “live with them,” as she calls it, for years. But this affection doesn’t mean she won’t be occasionally disappointed. Her admiration for FDR, for example, is tarnished by his call for internment of Japanese-Americans during WWII. But, Goodwin noted, it is important to balance the strengths and failures of such figures when analyzing their decision.

Goodwin’s message can easily apply to our current political context. We must remember that our leaders in government are indeed fallible human beings, with both strengths and lapses in judgment. Leadership is more than just getting it right all the time; it is a consistent pattern of principles mixed with pragmatism. It is an attempt to secure the most good for the most people, even if it requires self-denial. At the end of his life, Goodwin said, Theodore Roosevelt wanted to feel as though he had lived with integrity, doing his best with what he had been given. May our present and future political leaders strive to do the same.

 

The Gospel of Lear

Tags

King Lear, Shakespeare

The following guest post was written by senior politics major Casey Daggett.

King Lear, undoubtedly one of Shakespeare’s greatest masterpieces, if not his crowning achievement, reveals the profound complexities of human nature. While it presents a troubling picture of the human condition, the text wrought with violence, selfishness and suffering, its difficult lessons cannot be ignored and remain just as relevant to our society as they did in Elizabethan England.  Shakespeare’s tale of an aging, maddened king has the capacity to reflect our modern political environment.

King Lear is one of Shakespeare’s most complex figures. From first introduction, we learn that he is proud and that this hubris will be the undoing of both him and the innocent Cordelia. Lear is obsessed with his status as King and furious with Regan and Goneril for denying his requests to house both him and his men in an attempt to diminish his power. He then flees into a great tempest alongside the disguised Kent, his fool, and Edgar, walking through the countryside naked and raving.

However, it is in this moment, when King Lear has been robbed of everything that has designated him as a king—his power, prestige, and even the garb which would signify him as royalty—that he sees beyond the pride that has doomed him. For the first time in the play, King Lear sees beyond himself, crying out, “Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are / that bide the pelting of this pitiless storm / how shall your houseless heads and unfed sides / your loopt and window’d raggedness defend / you from such seasons as this?” (III.IV) When Lear has lost everything, only then does he think of those beneath him: the homeless and the hungry. He wonders how the marginalized people of his kingdom will survive such a wild storm as the one raging around him, those whom he has never before felt any commonality with.

“King Lear and the Fool in the Storm” by William Dyce

Lear continues, shouting above the tempest that “O, I have ta’en / too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; / explore thyself to feel what wretches feel, / that thou mayest shake the superflux to them / and show the heavens more just” (III.IV). He realizes, naked and exposed to the fury of nature, that he has shown too little care towards the poorest and the neediest of his kingdom, that in his great pride he has overlooked those that needed him most. Lear goes on to advise the powerful to go out and truly understand what sorrow and poverty the poor experience in order to serve them better, to make the world a better place through empathy, generosity, and kindness. Only when Lear is stripped of all that has made him powerful, all that has designated him as king and given him wealth, can he understand the needs and fears of the poor.

Lear’s warning and regret serve as a powerful message to our own society, where the gap between the poor and the wealthy grows increasingly larger. Amidst the despair and darkness of King Lear, one brief moment of hope flickers, and that hope calls for the wealthy and privileged to aid the marginalized and the needy. Are we not also called to help those around us and to hold our political leaders to the same standard?

In a culture where fame and fortune is glamorized, what does it take for us to remember poverty and inequality? Must we first hit our absolute lows, be stripped of our status and our prestige to empathize with the marginalized and the downtrodden? Does it take an economic recession, low unemployment rates, business closings, and a downgrade in credit for not only our political leaders, but ourselves to help the poor? Will we then be able to empathize with those we previously overlooked?

Lear’s desperate cries into the storm serve not only as a warning, but as a message of hope. We are called to consider “the least of these,” to aid and serve them as our equals and peers, and to help them before political and economic tempests. As the ever-increasing gap between the wealthy and the poor grows, the message of social justice within King Lear is as relevant to our own society as it was to Shakespeare’s. The privileged and powerful have a duty to serve and aid those beneath them, to embrace them without disdain before a political or economic crisis strikes.

However, does our political culture reflect this calling?

Fall 2014: News and Happenings

I’m pleased to announce that our blog is back (and with a new look!) We’re now about a month into the Fall 2014 semester. The leaves are changing, sweaters are emerging from closets, and hot coffee is being sipped (or chugged, in some instances.) And here at the department of Politics and International Relations, classes are in full swing! Here’s just a sampling of what we’ve been up to:

Constitutional Law (POLI 214)

Dr. Rego is teaching the first of a two-part sequence in Constitutional Law. This class, Governmental Power and Constraints, examines landmark constitutional cases regarding the allocation of power among the various institutions of government. General topics include the politics of constitutional interpretation, judicial power, legislative power, presidential power, separation of powers in action, nation-state relations, and economic liberties. Of special interest is the role of the Supreme Court in interpreting the Constitution. Throughout the semester, students are challenged to consider both the judicial and the political factors that influence the decision-making of justices, as well as the belief of many that the Supreme Court is, or should be, the ultimate/exclusive interpreter of the Constitution. Regardless of whether this is or should be the case, the Court is a major player in our political system. For this reason, students are expected to become proficient in reading and comprehending the judicial opinions through which the Court speaks to the nation in order to explain why it has done what it has done.

Theories of International Relations (POLI 362)

The millennial generation of students has been referred to as the “first globals;” that is, the first generation of young people to be networked to the culture, economics and politics of the global community. Just a couple of decades ago relatively few American students had travelled outside of the United States. Today, the majority of students have spent some time in another country, even before they got to college. It is not surprising, therefore, that student interest in studying international relations is growing. At Messiah College there are several options for students interested in global education. The Department of Politics and International Relations offers a popular major track in international relations that attracts students with interests that include diplomacy, public policy, intelligence work, non-governmental organizations, international law, and multi-national business. During the current fall semester Professor Dean Curry is teaching the IR track’s capstone course, Theories of International Relations. This upper division seminar, and sequel to the International Politics (POLI212) course, introduces students to the major theoretical approaches to IR as well as provides students with an opportunity to rigorously reflect on contemporary issues of global politics. According to Dr. Curry, one of his main objectives in teaching the course is to connect the ivory tower of academic ideas to the gritty real world of the global political economy. The format of the course is structured on a graduate school seminar model with class discussion and group presentations focusing on timely articles as well as six recently published books addressing a range of IR issue areas.

 

In addition, be sure to check out our newly-uploaded department video, which features students and professors discussing the benefits of studying politics at Messiah College:

 

Be on the lookout for more blog entries later in the semester!