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BRAVE CLOCKWORK WORLDS:
UTOPIA, EDUCATION AND FREE WILL
IN
ALDOUS HUXLEY’S BRAVE NEW WORLD
AND
ANTHONY BURGESS’S A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
POR
AMAURY GARCIA DOS SANTOS NETO
UNIVERSIDADE DO ESTADO DO RIO DE JANEIRO
2° semestre de 2005
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UNIVERSIDADE DO ESTADO DO RIO DE JANEIRO
Pós-Graduação em Letras
Mestrado em Literaturas de Língua Inglesa
BRAVE CLOCKWORK WORLDS:
UTOPIA, EDUCATION AND FREE WILL IN
ALDOUS HUXLEY’S BRAVE NEW WORLD
AND
ANTHONY BURGESS’S A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
POR
AMAURY GARCIA DOS SANTOS NETO
Dissertação apresentada à Coor-
denação Geral da Pós-Graduação em
Letras da Universidade do Estado do
Rio de Janeiro como parte dos
requisitos para obtenção do título de
Mestre.
Orientadora: Profª. Drª. Ana Lucia de
Souza Henriques
.
UERJ
2° semestre de 2005
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Exame de Dissertação
SANTOS NETO, Amaury Garcia
BRAVE CLOCKWORK WORLDS:
UTOPIA, EDUCATION AND FREE WILL IN
ALDOUS HUXLEY’S BRAVE NEW WORLD AND
ANTHONY BURGESS’S A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
Dissertação de Mestrado em Letras: Rio de Janeiro, UERJ, 2005, 114 páginas.
BANCA EXAMINADORA
Profª. Drª. Ana Lucia de Souza Henriques
Orientadora – UERJ
Profª. Drª. Lucia de La Rocque Rodrigues
UERJ
Prof. Dr. Luiz Fernando Medeiros de Carvalho
UNESA
BANCA DE SUPLENTES
Profª. Drª. Eliane Borges Berutti
UERJ
Profª. Drª. Valéria da Silva Medeiros
UGF
Dissertação examinada em 16 de Dezembro de 2005.
What a piece of work is man!
How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty!
In form and moving how express and admirable!
In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god!
William Shakespeare
I would like to dedicate this dissertation to God and His most
intriguing creation, man.
Acknowledgements
To all those who, directly or indirectly, contributed to the final
accomplishment of this dissertation: Alexander Meireles da Silva,
Anderson Soares Gomes, Bárbara Maia das Neves, Carla Alves da Silva,
Denis da Rocha Xavier, Ricardo José de Lima Teixeira, Rômulo de
Almeida Portella and Vlamir Marques dos Santos.
I would like to thank the following professors for their invaluable
help: Eliane Borges Berutti, Francisco Venceslau, Maria Conceição
Monteiro and Valéria da Silva Medeiros. A special thanks to professors
Andrew Biswell from the Manchester Metropolitan University and Lucia
de La Rocque Rodrigues from UERJ.
I would also like to thank the University of Sussex and the staff of its
library for allowing me to do part of my research there. A special thanks
also to the International Anthony Burgess Foundation in Manchester, and
to its secretary Katherine Harrison.
A very special thanks to my professor, advisor and friend Ana Lucia
de Souza Henriques, whose dedication, patience, support and guidance
were crucial for the development of the present dissertation.
I would like to thank my family, Amaury Garcia dos Santos Filho,
Iára Vettori dos Santos, Ivy Araçary Vettori dos Santos and Renê Michel
Vettori dos Santos, for their encouragement.
I would also like to give special thanks to Steve Harris, Eddie and the
band Iron Maiden for inspiration and strength. Up the Irons!
I especially thank my beloved girlfriend and future wife, Gleiciele
Alves da Silva, for her love, patience and support.
Last, but not least, I thank Jesus Christ, my Lord and Saviour,
without whom I would never have been able to even contemplate the
existence of my project.
“Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a
family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose
washing machines, cars, compact disc players and
electrical tin openers… choose DIY and wondering who
the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting
on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing
game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last
in a miserable home, nothing more than an
embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you
spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future.
Choose life…
But why would I want to do a thing like that?”
(Mark Renton, main character of the film “Trainspotting”,
based on the novel by Irvine Welsh)
Table of Contents
Introduction ………………………………………………………..……………….p.08
1. Utopian Thought in the Western Culture: a few remarks ………………….....p.11
1.1. Utopia …………………………………………………………………...p.11
1.2. Dystopia …………………………………………………..………….....p.13
2. Education in Utopia …………………………………………………………......p.19
2.1. Education: A Social Institution …………………….…………………p.20
2.2. Education, Society and the Individual ………………………..….…...p.23
2.3. Education and the Politics of Utopia ……………………………..…...p.25
2.4. Moral Education and the Utopian Structure …………………..….....p.27
2.5. Plato’s Republic: an Educational Utopia ………………………..……p.32
3. Free Will and the Utopian Thought …………………….……..…………..……p.40
3.1. Free Will: A Definition ……………………………………………..…p.40
3.2. Free Will and its Discontents ……………………………………….…p.45
4. Education, Utopia and Free Will in the Microcosm: A Clockwork Orange…...p.48
4.1. Rage Against a Clockwork Time………………………………..….….p.48
4.2. The Danger of Freedom ………………………………..……………...p.57
4.3. Humanity Lost ……………………………………………....…….……p.62
4.4. Alex like Groweth up …………………………………………………..p.70
5. Education, Utopia and Free Will in the Macrocosm: Brave New World……...p.76
5.1. Not so brave a new world ………………………………………..….…p.76
5.2. Education in the World State ………….……………………..…….…p.85
5.3. Free Will in the World State ……………………….…………..……...p.92
6. Brave Clockwork Worlds ……..……………………………………….………..p.99
7. Bibliography …………………………………………………………..………...p.106
Introduction
From time immemorial, utopia has been one of the dreams of humankind. The
desire for a society full of peace and harmony has been present throughout the existence
of civilisation, from the ancient epic Gilgamesh, to the Promised Land in the Holy
Bible, to Plato’s Republic. In the modern world, versions such as Thomas More’s
Utopia, Tommaso Campanella’s City of the Sun, or Francis Bacon’s New Atlantis, have
reshaped the dream into new conceptions, which would happen once again in the
twentieth century with H. G. Wells’s A Modern Utopia or B. F. Skinner’s Walden Two.
We can go even further, by considering actual attempts at establishing new
societies, like in the new world, after the discovery of America, the French Revolution,
Nazi Germany and the USSR, or even more specific and smaller communities such as the
kibbutz. Utopia is the point at which humankind has been looking in order to shape its
future. In the words of Edward Rothstein, utopia gives “direction and meaning to the idea
of progress; progress is always on the way toward some notion of utopia” (2003: 3).
Nevertheless, it seems utopia does not have the power to become a reality, as it
generally ends up by creating, as history unfortunately shows us, undesirable and
sometimes tyrannical societies. Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia, with an
unprecedented bloodbath, have shown the world the consequences of arrant utopianism.
And, today, once more, the old dream of humankind takes its place in discussions
around the world, especially after the invasion of Iraq by North-American armed forces
and their attempt at establishing a so-called democratic government. Iraq has not yet
become a harmonious State, as we can see with the bombings and killings that are
shown almost in a daily basis on television.
The warnings of dystopian literature still mark their importance in our troubled
times. Novels such as Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and
George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four have a lot to say in our new century. We are far
from achieving utopia. Capitalism and big corporations have exercised such a powerful
influence on our existence that the human being seems to have become more and more
the cog in the machine. Not a cog in the machine anymore, but a mere bit in the virtual
reality of the internet. The quest for domination still goes on, but now through
computers, a topic brilliantly discussed by Marge Piercy in her dystopian novel He, She
and It, and also approached in the blockbuster film Matrix. We cannot ignore the power
of big businesses, and even less the fact that we are manipulated by television and the
internet to do what they, the managers of society, want us to do.
Therefore, we cannot help but go back to dystopian fiction, so that we can
analyse the warnings of dystopian writers, and try to understand how social engineers
manage our society. In this dissertation, we look at two novels which have been
generally considered as dystopian classics, namely Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World
and Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange. It is our belief that a powerful dialogue
can be traced between these novels, one which points to a lack of individual freedom in
utopian societies. We intend to analyse why free will is given so little space in such
societies and how education is related to that. We believe that education is the social
apparatus that prevents the individual from exercising his free will in both novels.
Hence, we will analyse the system of education of the World State, the utopian
society Huxley creates, and the Ludovico Technique, the method of moral re-education
Burgess describes. Burgess focuses on the effects a utopian system of education exerts
on the microcosm, i.e. the individual, whereas Huxley focuses on the macrocosm, i.e.
society. It is true that Burgess’s novel does not present us with a utopian community,
but he does question the utopian tendencies of the method used in order to change the
behaviour of the protagonist. When compared to Huxley’s Brave New World, which
deals with a utopian community, A Clockwork Orange helps us to see more clearly the
horrible destruction of the human being effected in utopia.
In order to compare these two masterpieces of dystopian fiction, however, we
need to consider a few aspects that are important for the development of the present
dissertation. In the first chapter, we will present what we understand by utopia and
dystopia, trying to offer a clear definition for both terms. In the second chapter, we will
discuss the role of education in utopian societies, considering education per se, its
influence on society and the individual, its relation to the politics of utopia, and its relation
to moral values. We will briefly analyse Plato’s Republic, which is the founding text for
the type of utopia known as the planned society, in order to expose the importance
education is given in communities that are planned. In the third chapter, we will consider
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the debate concerning the existence of free will, taking into account the three perspectives
that inform discussions on it, namely determinism, libertarianism and compatibilism. We
will further expose the consequences free will entails, pointing to the reason why it is not
seen in a positive way by utopists. The fourth chapter will consist of an analysis of
Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, in which the erasure of the protagonist’s power
of free will is going to be focused upon. The fifth chapter will be a discussion of Aldous
Huxley’s Brave New World, focusing on the social structure of his utopian community
and on its system of education. Finally, in the sixth and last chapter, we will compare and
contrast the two novels, considering the role of education in utopian communities and its
influence on the free will of the characters presented.
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1. Utopian Thought in the Western Culture:
a few remarks
Utopia, the dream of a perfect society, has been present in the minds of men for
thousands of years. It has been conceptualised in quite different terms throughout times,
following religious beliefs, sociological studies, scientific proposals, among others.
However, we will analyse a particular type in this dissertation, the one known as the
literary utopia, or more specifically the planned society.
1.1. Utopia
David W. Sisk, in Transformations of Language in Modern Dystopias (1997: 3),
argues that the planned society descends from Plato’s Republic (circa 370 B.C.) and
Thomas More’s Utopia (1516). Krishan Kumar actually claims that More saw “his own
Utopia as partly a continuation of the Republic” (apud idem). Keith M. Booker, in
Dystopian Literature: A Theory and Research Guide (1994), affirms that “Plato’s
Republic is by far the most important classical Greek work in terms of its influence on
writers on the later utopian tradition in Western literature”, adding that it can even be
said to be “the founding text of this tradition” (idem: 60). Republic has been responsible
for laying down the structures of the utopian planned society as it is conceived in
Western culture.
Sisk explains that “the planned society gives humanity the full responsibility to
build more perfect states without help or guidance from divine beings – and only these
models place the burden of success or failure solely on human shoulders” (1997: 3).
This definition is at odds with the common label of escapist literature attached to the
genre. In Utopia X Satire in English Literature (1999), Bernadete Pasold quotes
Fernando Ainsa’s comments on the forward-looking perspective of utopists, in which he
argues that utopian literature is the work of writers who are deeply committed to the
political, social and economical reality of their time (idem: 16 – 7). Utopists first reflect
on the problems of their own societies, and subsequently propose ways that could, at
least theoretically, improve such conditions. They do so by offering visions of
alternative communities, in which the ways devised are carried to their full. When
compared to the writer’s actual societies, those utopian communities lay bare common
practices of the former which are taken for granted, and which are, in great part, the
reasons of their problematic conditions. The utopist, then, is not trying to escape from
reality, but actually taking responsibility in reconstructing that reality, and offering a
new possibility. It is in his hands to establish the directives and lay down the structures
that will enable a better society to come into being.
Most utopias share certain features that distinguish them as pertaining to the
utopian genre. Rudolph Moos and Robert Brownstein, in “Utopian Environments”
(1976), argue that utopias have basically four characteristics:
First, they [utopias] are holistic. Their intent is to portray the essential elements of an entire
social order. Second, they are functional. That is, they do not merely express ideas or values
but incorporate such notations into ongoing institutions. Third, they are idealist. Their
authors assume that social perfection is conceivable; they seek not a better society but the
best society, the end point of human achievement. Finally, they are intentional, describing a
society ordered according to a basic guiding plan. (idem: 361)
These four elements are of ultimate importance. As such societies are envisioned
as perfect, none of their aspects can be overlooked, which implies that the utopist has to
conceive of such communities as totalities. If they are ever to be achieved, one has to
provide them with rules for their functionality. Thus, the utopian writer is led to
establish their directives and lay down the structures on which their institutions are
supposed to be grounded. The holistic element has to be taken into account when the
rules are devised, since they cannot contradict one another. If the utopist really intends
to accomplish his plan, which Moos and Brownstein claim as true, he has to consider all
the other elements herein presented.
However, it should be said that what the utopist conceives might be perfect
according to his own judgement, but when analysed by others, it might be seen in quite
different terms. This brings us to the nature of the word “utopia” itself. David W. Sisk
explains the etymology of the word, approaching Thomas More’s homonymous treatise:
- 12 -
Although More wrote in Latin, the name he gave to his book and to the fictitious country
described in it combines two Greek terms, ou (“not”) and topos (“place”) – literally, “no
place”. The Latin word utopia has the same pronunciation in Greek and, if transliterated
into “ευτοπια,” the first syllable becomes eu (good), thereby changing the meaning to
“good place”. Utopia, then, is simultaneously a good and no place. (1997: 3)
The ambiguity, which is present in the meaning of the word utopia itself, lays
bare the paradoxical character which is inherent in such societies. They are perfect in
the minds of their idealisers, but not necessarily for everyone. That is the reason why
Bernadete Pasold argues that utopia is a “literary piece which describes a perfectly
organized and happy world from the point of view of the author, in an imaginary place
and/or time” (1999: 18 – 9). If we articulate this definition with the etymology of the
word, we can arrive at the conclusion that a utopia is a good place provided that it is
imaginary, because it can only be perfect according to the standards of its own idealiser.
This is the paradox that lies in the heart of utopia: it is a “perfect no-place”.
It is this ambiguous character that prevents it from coming into being. Pasold
quotes Alain Frontier to illustrate the paradox. He states the following: “[t]oda a
infelicidade do mundo não provém das utopias, mas daqueles que são suficientemente
loucos para confundi-las com programas de ação política
1
” (idem: 18). Utopias should
be viewed only as guides of thought in order to direct the improvement of society. They
should not be seen as the end point of human achievement. If one makes an attempt at
establishing a utopia in practical terms, the results are bound to be disastrous. The
perfect world ceases and becomes an inescapable nightmare.
1.2. Dystopia
The impossibility of utopia lies basically in two factors. The first is that it
demands human beings to voluntarily choose a course of action that sacrifices their own
interests in the name of common good. This communal element is in its core: the aim is
to reach the perfect community, and, therefore, the individuals are supposed to yield
their concerns in the interest of stability. However, it would be naive in the part of the
utopist to believe that man would freely do it. He is then faced with the need of creating
methods that guarantee this prerogative. Such methods aim at instilling an organised
system of norms in the psyche of the individual in order to foster the production of
1
Quotations are presented as in the source so as not to conflict with other existing translations.
- 13 -
desired behaviour. Thus, the utopist becomes capable of bringing the citizenry of his
society to act according to the needs of his idealised community.
Renato José de Oliveira, in Utopia e razão: pensando a formação ético-política
do homem contemporâneo (1998), recognises that the power of a utopist to convert his
plans into actual reality lies in his ability at generating adhesion to his views (idem: 46).
In Visions of Utopia (2003), Edward Rothstein puts it differently, affirming that
“[a]lmost any utopia seems to make one very clear demand: obey” (idem: 7). This is
necessary because utopias are systems based on the idea of totality – as they are
conceived as perfect, the idea of perfection of the utopist has to be accepted by each and
every individual of his society. Such a premise is to be brought about through the
methods mentioned above, which will ensure that every citizen not only understands the
code of conduct, but also that each one of them is compelled to behave accordingly.
Nevertheless, through the use of such mechanisms, the citizen is coerced into
following the utopist’s will, not choosing it freely. Michel Foucault, in Vigiar e Punir:
nascimento da prisão (1999), comments on the dream of a perfect society, arguing that
such a world refers to cogs in a machine, to endless coercions, to an indefinitely
progressive training program, to the automatic docility (idem: 142). The use of coercive
methods becomes necessary if the utopist expects his fellow men to become citizens of
his idealised community. Rothstein affirms that for such worlds to exist, one has to
believe that people are “socially constructed, that everything that we like and believe,
every way that we act and think, is shaped by our surroundings and institutions, that
there is no aspect of human nature that might serve as an obstacle to an engineered
paradise” (2003: 6).
Utopianism entails the existence of what Foucault calls “docile bodies” (1991).
This is a metaphor to represent citizens who are meticulously shaped in order to be
socially useful. Their characters are formed according to the social norm, through what
Foucault terms disciplines. These disciplines, as the sociologist explains, are methods
that enable the social engineer to control the operations of the body, and, as a result,
assure the constant subjection of its forces, imposing a strict relation of “docility-utility”
(idem: 181). It is a technology of the body, which is directed “at the formation of a
relation that in the mechanism itself makes it more obedient as it becomes more useful”
(idem: 182). Foucault describes its mechanics as follows:
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(...) [it is] a machinery of power that explores [the body], breaks it down, and rearranges it.
A “political anatomy,” which [is] also a “mechanics of power” (...); it define[s] how one
may have a hold over others’ bodies, not only so that they may do what one wishes, but so
that they may operate as one wishes, with the techniques, the speed, and the efficiency that
one determines. Thus discipline produces subjected and practiced bodies, “docile” bodies.
Discipline increases the forces of the body (in economic terms of utility) and diminishes
these same forces (in political terms of obedience). In short, it dissociates power from the
body; on the one hand, it turns it into an “aptitude”, a “capacity”, which it seeks to increase;
on the other hand, it reverses the course of the energy, the power that might result from it,
and turns it into a relation of strict subjection. (idem: 182)
Standardisation of behaviour, with an eye at establishing total adhesion to the
system, as well as increasing social utility, is generated through the process
aforementioned. This standard is to be determined by the authorities. Therefore, as
Rothstein (2003: 6) argues, in any utopia there is the need for a very strong central
authority. If power is not centralised, social construction becomes impracticable. The
utopist, following this prerogative, lays down the ideology which becomes the official
basis for his community. Its unilateral character determines the code of conduct, of each
and every citizen, who is coerced into abiding by it under any circumstance.
Nevertheless, faced with such possibilities, one is bound to conceive of this
authority as authoritarianism. Rothstein once again questions utopia by saying that “[t]he
more perfect the utopia, the more stringent must be the controls (...) [a]nd utopia becomes
totalitarianism with a barely human face” (idem: 7). Consequently, utopia becomes a
doubtful project. It is precisely at this moment that the turn into what is termed dystopia
takes place. Dystopian literature exposes the fallibility of utopian projects, subverting
those perfect communities into bad places, by extrapolating their characteristics.
Dystopia is one among many other terms that are encompassed by the general
“anti-utopia”. David W. Sisk (1997: 5) mentions a list drawn by Arthur O. Lewis, which
presents many different names given to novels pertaining to the genre, such as “reverse
utopia”, “negative utopia”, “inverted utopia”, “regressive utopia”, “cacoutopia”,
“dystopia”, “non-utopia”, “satiric utopia” and “nasty utopia”. Sisk also mentions
Alexandra Aldridge’s terms “sour utopias in the apocalyptic mode” and “negative
quasi-Utopias”, as well as Foucault’s “heterotopias” (idem). Bernadete Pasold (1999)
mentions other two types, which she calls “the ambiguous utopia” and “the frustrated
utopia”. However, the three which are most frequently used are the terms satiric utopia
(or utopian satire), the anti-utopia and the dystopia (Sisk, 1997: 5).
- 15 -
The satiric utopia ridicules specific utopian visions. Anti-utopias, in turn,
criticise general utopian ideals. The dystopia has a doublefold aim: to criticise utopian
ideals and to attack contemporary social structures. In the first instance, dystopia is
similar to anti-utopia, and this is the reason why Sisk (idem) argues that every dystopia
is an anti-utopia. However, the opposite cannot be claimed, due to the second
characteristic aforementioned. Keith M. Booker, in The Dystopian Impulse in Modern
Literature (1994), defines dystopia as “a general term encompassing any imaginative
view of a society that is oriented toward highlighting in a critical way negative or
problematic features of that society’s vision of the ideal” (idem: 22). The critic goes
further, in Dystopian Literature: A Theory and Research Guide (1994), in which he
explains dystopian literature as follows:
Briefly, dystopian literature is specifically that literature which situates itself in direct
opposition to utopian thought, warning against the potential negative consequences of
arrant utopianism. At the same time, dystopian literature generally also constitutes a
critique of existing social conditions or political systems, either through the critical
examination of the utopian premises upon which those conditions and systems are based or
through the imaginative extension of those conditions and systems into different contexts
that more clearly reveal their flaws and contradictions. (idem: 3)
Other definitions are quite similar. Pasold (1999: 52) argues that the term
dystopia was first used by Joseph Hall in his Mundus Alter et Idem, from 1600. She
quotes Hall, who says that this word may be applied to “accounts of imaginary worlds,
usually in the future, in which present tendencies are carried out to their intensely
unpleasant culminations” (idem). David W. Sisk (1997), following the same track,
argues that dystopias offer “advance warning of what could happen should present
trends continue unchecked” (idem: 6). By articulating Booker’s definitions with Hall’s
and Sisk’s, one can clearly see the double attack of dystopia: it is a critique of utopia in
itself, but also a critique of contemporary tendencies towards achieving the former.
Nonetheless, one must also consider the etymology of the term. Sisk explains
that, “[r]hetorically, it [dystopia] exactly reverses the common misreading of More’s
eutopia: “δυσ τοποσ” translates literally as ‘bad place’” (idem: 5). Dystopian literature
does expose utopias as undesirable societies which should be avoided. One would
probably ask oneself why writers of this genre portray one of the most ancient dreams
of humankind as something which should not be sought. This stems from the element of
- 16 -
totality inherent in utopias. As explained above, utopias are conceived as totalities
because they are supposed to be perfect, which implies that every social aspect has to be
accounted for. Totality is achieved when the utopist establishes an axiom, i.e. a fixed
group of laws that functions as the cornerstone of the community, informing the moral
values of the citizenry and regulating social practices. These axioms are absolute ideas,
and, because they are absolute, they restrict the possibility of conceiving society in any
other way. Flávio Kothe, in Fundamentos da teoria literária (2002), comments on this
absolutism in the following passage:
[a] diferença entre a utopia e os monstros por ela gerados (...) decorrem da própria natureza
da utopia. Os monstros já estão contidos na utopia, pois ela guarda pelo avesso a
monstruosidade da situação que a fez necessária e que a originou: contém, em si mesma, o
princípio de uma imposição absoluta, de uma indubitabilidade. (idem: 138)
As the possibility of conceiving the community in different ways is ruled out,
totality becomes totalitarianism. The utopist ends up dictating every feature of the
community. The citizens of a utopia cannot take any part in its conception. They are
subjected to the moral codes created by someone else, a subjection which is carried out
by social institutions. To use Foucault’s terms, they are transformed into docile bodies
that fit the social requirements and, obligatorily, the demands of the utopist. They are
disciplined by different institutions whose main purpose is to establish the power
relations that sustain the utopian structure. The citizens of utopia become thus automata.
Utopias generate dehumanised human beings, “walking contradictions”. Utopia is thus
exposed as a bad place. We arrive at the second reason for the impossibility of utopia: it
is a contradiction in itself. The aim of the dystopian writer is to reveal it to his readers.
Considering everything discussed so far, we attempt at defining dystopia as
follows: it is the presentation of a utopian society in a perspective different from that of
its idealiser, aiming at exposing such a society as a bad place. The dystopian writer’s
objective is to warn his contemporaries of the unsavoury consequences of their utopian
projects. The main strategy used by dystopian writers in order to question utopianism is
to expose the techniques and mechanisms created by the utopist to foster the adhesion to
the axiom.
As argued above, such techniques are incorporated into social institutions and
practices. Education is one of the crucial institutions used both in utopian and dystopian
- 17 -
literature through which the axiom is disseminated. In Aldous Huxley’s Brave New
World, this is the crucial apparatus responsible for the maintenance of the utopian
structure. In Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, the coercive – and, in turn,
dehumanising – effects of education, when applied with a utopian drive, are laid bare.
Therefore, we intend to examine the role of education in the two texts mentioned, and
relate it to the utopian ideal. In order to do so, we ought first to consider the meaning of
education, and subsequently analyse its role in the utopian structure.
- 18 -
2. Education in Utopia
The aim of public education is not to spread
enlightenment at all; it is simply to reduce as many
individuals as possible to the same safe level, to
breed a standard citizenry, to put down dissent and
originality. (H.L. Mencken)
As shown in the previous chapter, the strategy used by dystopian writers in order to
question the utopian ideal is to expose the mechanisms the utopist deploys to foster the
adhesion of the citizenry to the axiom that informs the structure of his idealised society.
This adhesion happens through a process, which depends on the workings of different
social institutions and practices. Of the various practices and systems that pertain to a
utopian society, the educational institution may be said to be the one that bears the highest
importance. One can clearly see it in texts such as Plato’s Republic, in which education
takes the leading role, or even More’s Utopia and Campanella’s City of the Sun: education
is not a mere institution, it is one of the strongest parts of their structures.
In dystopian writings, education is generally a main concern. Classic dystopian
novels such as Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, or George
Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four show how heavily dependent on education utopia is, by
portraying the institution as a tool to generate what Foucault calls docile bodies. Its role in
utopia is social, and it gives no regard to the individual at all. It follows the official ideology
of the State, with a view at forming useful social beings. As it is one of the crucial
apparatuses in utopian literature, education takes a central part in dystopian texts.
Our purpose in this chapter is to provide a definition of education that can be used
when one considers the institution as conceived of in utopian societies. Therefore, we will
approach education with a sociological perspective, analysing its social role and
mechanics. Its relation to the State and the individual will be taken into account, and
special attention will be paid to the teaching of moral values. Finally, we will approach a
system of education which is presented in a utopian text, namely Plato’s Republic, and
pinpoint its main effects on the community.
2.1. Education: A Social Institution
One of the most important sociologists one might think of when it comes to the
topic of education is Emile Durkheim. In Education and Sociology (1956), he tries to
grasp the totality of its social meaning. After giving a brief overview on the various
historical conceptions of education, he analyses its aims in society, and comes up with
the following definition:
Education is the influence exercised by adult generations on those that are not yet
ready for social life. Its object is to arouse and to develop in the child a certain number
of physical, intellectual and moral states which are demanded of him by both the
political society as a whole and the special milieu for which he is specifically destined.
(idem: 71)
We may perceive a number of consequences that such a definition entails.
Firstly, education is inarguably of a social character: it prepares the youth for social life.
Secondly, it aims at developing one physically, intellectually and morally. Thirdly, such
development is to be grounded on the demands of society as a whole. Fourthly, it also
takes into account a specific need of society.
The first aspect stems from society’s need for continuity, since it reproduces itself
through education. John Dewey names the introductory chapter of his Democracy and
Education (1944) as “Education as a Necessity of Life”. In it, he argues that the simple
and ineluctable facts of the finitude of human life along with its renewal, i.e. death and
birth respectively, determine the necessity of education (idem: 3). Social experience must
continue, regardless of such factors, since it is this experience that will provide
individuals from new generations with the ability of interacting with one another.
Paulo Meskenas, in Sociologia da Educação (1988), follows the same rationale
when he explains that education originates from the necessity of survival (cf. idem: 18 –
9). This social institution enables the group to transmit the experiences they acquired
when they attempted to survive different situations, which, subsequently, provides the
new generations with a better ability to face such difficulties (cf. idem: 19). As this
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transmission is carried out, the continuity of social life is practically assured. Without it,
humanity would probably return to its primal state, and live as our ancestors did in the
Stone Age. Therefore, education becomes a real necessity, since it “is the means of this
social continuity of life” (Dewey, 1944: 2).
Dewey goes further on the dependence of social life on the transmission of
social experience, as we can notice in the following passages:
Society exists through a process of transmission (…). This transmission occurs by means of
communication of habits of doing, thinking, and feeling from the older to the younger.
Without this communication of ideals, hopes, expectations, standards, opinions, from those
members of society who are passing out of the group of life to those who are coming into it,
social life could not survive. (idem: 3)
Society not only continues to exist by transmission, by communication, but it may fairly be
said to exist in transmission, in
2
communication. There is more than a verbal tie between
the words common, community and communication. Men live in a community in virtue of
the things which they have in common; and communication is the way in which they come
to possess things in common. What they must have in common in order to form a
community or society are aims, beliefs, aspirations, knowledge – a common understanding
– like-mindedness as the sociologists say. (idem: 4)
From both passages we learn that there can be no ties among members of a
group if there is no communication, if there is no transmission of beliefs and ideals.
Only in transmission can ideals be made common, and further generate the feeling of
belonging that lies in the heart of any community. This transmission can happen in
different social institutions, such as the family and the church, and also in different
levels. The institution of education transmits such ideals in a systematised way, and,
therefore, it plays the leading role in establishing social values to new generations. If
society cannot exist without this process, we may conclude that the nature of education
is indeed social, as it transmits the grounds on which that same society is based upon.
And, if education is systematised transmission, there can be no other institution which
more powerfully assures the existence and continuity of the community.
From our conclusion concerning the nature of education, we can claim that its
objective is to form beings who interact with one another in ways that are beneficial for
society. This being is what Durkheim names as the social being, whose character is formed
2
Emphasis of the author.
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by a set of ideas that have been developed throughout the history of humankind, a set which
contains our notions of morality, our beliefs and our practices – in short: culture (1956: 70).
Culture must be transmitted to the yet asocial individual so that he becomes the social
being. Education fixes this set of ideas in the minds of pupils, which, in turn, determines the
way in which they will interact with their fellow men. It prepares individuals to live in
society, and, furthermore, to reproduce its practices, thus, assuring its continuity.
Nevertheless, the social being is two-fold. It has its rights and duties before
society as a whole, but it also has to play a specific role in the community. Collective
life demands that each individual be bound to one another by ties that will guarantee the
survival of the group. Society must be homogeneous, its parts must feel attached to a
totality, otherwise its members would lose interest in it and would not constitute a
community at all. But, society must be simultaneously heterogeneous: since one is not
able to assume each and every social function, division of labour becomes a necessity,
and the preparation for specific tasks mandatory. Thus, the social being is developed for
two different purposes: to share social beliefs and practices, which maintains the life of
the group, and to be productive for the community in a specific manner. Education has a
double aim: it forms a being that is attached to the totality, and a labourer, who is to
take part in the workforce of his community. These two elements, as Durkheim argues,
are what constitute the social being, which is the final objective of education (idem: 70).
We propose, thus, a definition of education: it is a system of organised practices
that transmits a set of ideas and beliefs to individuals, with the objective of fixing given
concepts in their minds, and preparing them to live in society. Firstly, this results in the
individual becoming a part of a totality and contributing for its continuity. Secondly,
this individual is taught to play a specific role to serve the community. The first element
is directly associated with the moral aspect of education, while the second takes into
account the practical or utilitarian factor. The final product of education is, thus, a being
that conjugates both aspects, the so-called social being. Considering such conclusions,
one cannot deny that developing the individual is of secondary importance in education.
This is the dichotomy it brings in its core, and one of the most important themes
explored in dystopian literature.
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2.2. Education, Society and the Individual
The institution of education is social in nature, which implies that its ends should
be dictated not by individuals, as it should not follow private interests. Education ought
to be directed by an institution that represents society as a whole, and the one to play
such a role is the State. Meskenas argues that, from the sociological perspective, it is the
function of the State to organise society according to the interests of the whole, not of
the individual (1988: 44). As social organisation takes place in transmission, the school
becomes the best apparatus for establishing the social order. The school is, then,
informed by the values the State elects as official, which are to be inculcated in the
minds of individuals.
As the State dictates and supervises education, the latter forms beings that can fit
the demands of the former, and who can be socially productive. This resembles the
Greek ideal of Paideia, which informed the concept of education in Greece after the VI
century b.C.. Carlos Rodrigues Brandão, in O que é educação (2005), explains that the
ideal of Paideia is to reproduce a social order conceived as perfect by forming people
who are citizens (cf. idem: 44). By citizen we can understand a law-abiding productive
being, whose decisions and acts ought to account for the community as a whole. The
perfect citizen is supposed to ground his decisions not on his individual desires but on
the needs of the social body. He should always act promoting the development, or at
least the continuity, of the community.
Bertrand Russell, in his Education and the Social Order (1999), argues that the
cultivation of the individual and the training of the citizen are of completely different
natures (idem: 10). He says that the basic difference between the individual and the
citizen is the will. In the individual, the will is freer than in the citizen, since the latter
has his will circumscribed by his fellow human beings, which entails that it entertains
less freedom (idem: 11). According to Russell, the fundamental characteristic of the
citizen is that he co-operates. Willing to co-operate with the whole, the citizen seeks to
subject himself to the order the State fosters (cf. idem: 11). Referring back to the
deduction that education should be in the hands of the State, we might conclude that it
subjects the will of the individual to the will of the whole, by transmitting the values the
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State presents as being the appropriate ones, thus transforming the individual in a
citizen. This citizen is what Durkheim refers to as the social being
3
.
The prerogatives of an education whose objective is to form the citizen bring to
mind Foucault’s aforementioned theory of the docile bodies and its mechanism (cf.: 14
– 5). The philosopher explains what he terms as “modes of subjection”, which are
techniques that coerce the individual into thinking and behaving the way the State
devises. These modes are discursive, and, because of this linguistic character, the
presence of their power is obfuscated. Consequently, the individual cannot perceive he
is being coerced, given that his way of thinking is conditioned by such discourses.
The process an individual goes through in order to become a citizen, i.e.
education, deploys the same discursive methods as the Foucauldian modes of
subjection. Man is taught to behave in society through discourses that are embedded
with the official values of the State, and has his will subjected to such values. This
cannot be noticed because everything is based on a discourse that is taken for granted –
rationality. It turns out, then, that the citizen is an individual whose body has become
docile. To form the social being, thus, is to “docilise” people, i.e. to transform them into
obedient and useful individuals. The institution of education, hence, becomes a tool for
shaping the minds of people, for moulding their thoughts; it becomes a machine that
produces docile bodies. In the words of the French sociologist Louis Althusser,
education becomes a “State Ideological Apparatus”.
Louis Althusser, in Aparelhos Ideológicos de Estado (2001), argues that the
school is the strongest, most powerful and most efficient State ideological apparatus.
Through compulsory education, controlled by the State, the ruling class impresses its
values and concepts of truth upon the minds of the citizenry, who will thus assume
positions in society according to what is taught. The author states that those apparatuses
guarantee the reproduction of power relations, since the ideology of the rulers is
developed and disseminated through them (cf. idem: 74). Consequently, the school
becomes an institution in which coercive methods are applied in order to engineer society.
If one analyses Durkheim’s claims that education is similar to hypnosis, one may
take even further the idea of education being a manipulative tool. Durkheim (1956: 85 –
6) argues that education follows the same patterns of hypnotism. The child is a being
that offers nearly no resistance to external ideas, just like a subject in a hypnotic trance.
3
From this point on, the word “citizen” and the expression “social being” will be used interchangeably.
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The teacher carries the authority that is needed in a hypnotist. It follows that it becomes
rather easy for the educator to inculcate ideas and values in the mind of the child, just as
the hypnotist inculcates ideas in the mind of the subject (cf. idem). The will of the child
is controlled by the teacher, whose duty is to build up the system of values dictated by
the State in the mind of the former. J. A. Guilhon Albuquerque, in “Introdução:
Althusser, a ideologia e as instituições” (2001), argues that it is in the nature of the
institution of education to be coercive, regardless of who might be in control of the
State. Albuquerque affirms that:
[a]s instituições e, com elas, a cultura, as ciências, deixam de ser instrumentos neutros do
progresso da humanidade, para tornarem-se lugar de luta de classes pela direção da
sociedade. A Universidade e a escola, particularmente, deixam de ser uma conquista da
humanidade a ser preservada das querelas pequeno-burguesas, para se tornarem não mais
instrumentos de saber, mas máquinas de sujeição ideológica. O que a torna instrumento de
subordinação ideológica não são os “valores” da burguesia e os “interesses” de seus
representantes, mas seu funcionamento ideológico. A escola continuaria máquina de
sujeição, ainda que mudasse de mãos e adotasse “valores” ou “interesses” hipoteticamente
opostos. (idem: 17)
It becomes clear then that the individual is to have his will bent to the will of the
whole, which is the intended result of the process of education when it aims at forming
the citizen. The ideals one is taught are the ideals of the State, and, thus, the State
coerces people into behaving according to the needs of society. The set of rules that will
determine the thoughts and behaviour of the citizen is not natural. It is a construct, and
depends on the direction each society follows, which in turn is dictated by many
variables, such as economy, the historical context, international affairs among others.
The politics of a community can be of two types when it comes to education, either
progressive or reproductive. The citizen is a product of a system whose politics aim at
maintaining the State, following the second type.
2.3. Education and the Politics of Utopia
As we have seen earlier, the aim of education is to form the social being. The
characteristics of such a being depend on what is elected as appropriate for a given
society. Carlos Rodrigues Brandão (2005) explains that education may reproduce the
social order, but it may also take part in the process of production of beliefs and ideas
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that are shared by the community, and, thus, reconfigure society (idem: 10-11).
Education can provide society with the possibility of effecting its duplicate, by
producing beings that merely reproduce previous practices, or it can generate change,
when such practices are reviewed and reconstructed. The latter possibility takes place
when education appropriates and transforms social symbols, further rebuilding the
system of ideas that informs the social being. However, this is only a possibility, not a
certainty. Here lies the weakness of education: in politics.
As Brandão explains, instruction may be politically biased, i.e. education can be
used serving political interests (cf. idem: 12). There are two possible inclinations
education may serve: one that is reproductive and the other which is progressive.
Adalberto Dias de Carvalho, in his Utopia e educação (1994), proposes the dichotomy
ideology/project. The end of ideology is a mere reproduction of society. The project has
progress as a goal. The author defines project as operative anticipation, i.e. a
systematised plan, whose operativeness is well-defined, and which has a given
objective: the transformation of reality (cf. idem: 17-18). He draws on Karl Mannheim’s
dichotomy between ideology/utopia, which was introduced in the latter’s Ideology and
Utopia: An Introduction to the Sociology of Knowledge (1936). Carvalho uses
Mannheim’s concept of utopia to inform his concept of project as opposed to ideology.
According to Mannheim, ideology is interest-bound and related to the ruling
groups of society. What ideology does is to obfuscate the responsibility of the government
for the negative conditions in a given society, which, in turn, consolidates the power of
the ruling class. Utopia reflects the opposite: it stems from the oppressed groups that are
interested in the transformation of reality (idem: 40). Ideology, therefore, seeks to
maintain those that are in power, providing continuity to society. Utopian thought offers
change, by going against what has been established, and drawing plans on how to build a
new reality. Carvalho (1994) conceives of education as a project, which, in turn, follows
utopian thought, as it proposes to change reality in order to achieve a better world.
However, he misses one point that Mannheim (1936) makes: utopian thought, like
ideology, is extremist, and it negates possibilities that may go against what it has
previously devised (idem: 40). It turns out that once utopia is established, utopian thought
becomes ideological.
Moos and Brownstein (1976) argue that every utopia is stagnant in nature, as it
seeks to duplicate itself. They explain that this characteristic is intrinsically linked to the
idea of perfection: “[o]nce a perfect order has been established, there is no longer any
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basis for improvement or innovation: utopia must remain a static society, ever faithful
to its ideal routine” (idem: 389). The holistic character of utopia excludes the possibility
of a progressive education. When totalised societies, such as utopias, achieve their goal,
they effect the end of progress. There is nowhere to go after utopia ceases to be a project
and becomes a definite reality. Only in imperfect societies can education be conceived
of as a project. If utopia becomes a reality, its politics becomes ideological, and,
therefore, the community has to seek for its own preservation.
Utopian education assumes a reproductive character. Its objective is to form a
citizen whose main interests are to maintain social harmony and stability. Both aspects
are related to the holistic aspect: it is the harmony among all parts and the stability of
the whole that is to be kept. The individual must be educated in values that enable him
to interact harmoniously with the other members of the community. The key element
that informs these values is what is known as morality. Utopists pose a great importance
on moral development and education. This is seen in Plato, More, Campanella, among
others. Moral education plays a crucial part in utopias: it provides harmony, stability
and continuity. But, more than that, the group of moral values of a utopia make up what
we have referred to above as the axiom of the community.
2.4. Moral Education and the Utopian Structure
The idea of morality and its relation with religion might appear to pose some
difficulties at first. However, with a simple examination, one can seriously argue that its
main role is not so much spiritual, but social. Even when it is conceived religiously,
morality concerns itself with a harmonious life, which is to be lived by the members of
a given community. Thus, it can be said that it is most appropriately approached in
sociological terms.
Durkheim, in Moral Education (2002: 24), states that morality is normative; it is
a system of rules that dictates one’s behaviour. As he puts it: “[a]ll such behavior [moral
behaviour] conforms to pre-established rules. To conduct one’s self morally is a matter
of abiding by a norm, determining what conduct should obtain in a given instance even
before one is required to act” (idem: 23). The sociologist defines morality as “a system
of rules of action that predetermine conduct. They [the rules] state how one must act in
given situations (…)” (idem: 24). He explains that such a system is ready-made, that it
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is always operating in society, and, hence, one does not have to deduce how to act
morally when faced with a certain situation; one must simply turn to a mode of
behaviour that is appropriate for that particular context (cf. idem: 26).
Durkheim proceeds in his examination of morality, and argues that there are
three elements involved in its development. The first is called “discipline”, which is
constituted by two other elements: regularity and authority. The mechanics of morality
is very similar to the mechanics of habits, the sociologist explains (cf. idem: 27). As life
is dynamic, the individual is faced with situations in which he does not have the leisure
to think on how to act. Therefore, he must revert to ready-made directives that enable
him to behave accordingly. These directives are established through regularity, they
become habits (cf. idem: 27-28). But morality is not simply a set of repetitive actions. It
differs from ordinary habits as it is infused with authority. Authority is defined as “that
influence which imposes upon us all the moral power that we acknowledge as superior
to us” (idem: 29). For one to acquire moral habits, one must believe in their authority,
i.e. one must believe in the superiority of their character. Otherwise, man would object
to follow such rules (cf. idem: 34). Discipline is the element that links the regularity and
the authority required for the development of morality. It is a technique that regularises
conduct, and at the same time infuses that set of rules of conduct with authority, since it
presents such a set as being of a superior nature.
Durkheim sees discipline as the fundamental element of morality (idem: 31). He
acknowledges that discipline is restrictive, but he argues that its business is to limit
desire for the sake of the individual. When desire is limited, one generally wishes for
things that are likely to be granted, and, therefore, one tends to establish achievable
goals. The limitation of desire becomes a source of happiness for the individual, since
he is able to achieve what he wishes for (idem: 43). According to the sociologist,
morality, like discipline, is of a restrictive nature. For him, its function is to bend the
will, by promoting regularity in people’s conduct, and further limiting the range of their
choices, which consequently determines their goals (idem: 47). The social importance
of discipline lies in its possibility at generating happiness: if man is taught to follow a
set of codes that leads him to desire only what is achievable, he is bound to be happy,
since he will be able to achieve the goals he sets. Discipline, though limiting,
contributes to the feeling of self-fulfilment.
The need for limitation derives from the fact that human beings live in society.
This fact implies that the will of different individuals might conflict with one another.
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Morality takes its role, by limiting personal wills, so that they do not conflict. The
individual must take his neighbour into account when acting morally. The second element
of morality, attachment to social groups, comes from this factor. We also have to mention
that both discipline and social attachment are interrelated. As discussed above, discipline
is the mechanics that instils the set of moral values in the minds of individuals. This
induction takes place through transmission, which can only be effected through
relationships. Social attachment is what provides the possibility for relationships to be
established. Therefore, the second element completes the first. There can be no discipline
without social attachment, since there would be no transmission of beliefs, ideas, or rules.
However, Durkheim points to a third element in morality: autonomy or self-
determination. This refers to understanding the reasons for the existence of certain
moral codes. If one does not understand the whys and wherefores, morality is not
developed, and the individual is simply coerced. In the following passage, not only does
Durkheim explain the third element, but he also touches a very important point
concerning morality and the theme of free will:
To act morally, it is not enough – above all, it is no longer enough – to respect discipline
and to be committed to a group. Beyond this, and whether out of deference to a rule or
devotion to a collective ideal, we must have knowledge, as clear and complete an
awareness as possible of the reasons for our conduct. This consciousness confers on our
behavior the autonomy that the public conscience from now on requires of every genuinely
and completely moral being. Hence, we can say that the third element of morality is the
understanding of it. Morality no longer consists merely in behaving, even intentionally
behaving, in certain required ways. Beyond this, the rule prescribing such behavior must be
freely desired, that is to say, freely accepted; and this willing acceptance is nothing less
than an enlightened assent. (idem: 120)
From the passage we learn that a moral being cannot be coerced – one has to
choose to abide by a certain moral rule freely, and choosing it freely because one
understands it. When an individual is coerced, his understanding of morality is
prevented, and, thus, he becomes a mechanical part of society. The individual ceases to
be a moral being once he loses his ability to choose. One can only be moral if one
understands the rationale behind morality. The same is true for immoral beings – one
can only be immoral when one understands the reasons for a set of moral rules, and
chooses freely not to abide by it, or to contradict it. If one has no understanding
whatsoever, one must be considered amoral.
- 29 -
Behind the third element of morality lies the importance of education. Durkheim
argues that the school is the place where the set of moral values of the community should
be transmitted. He claims it is the duty of the educator to make pupils understand
morality, which can provide them with the ability of choosing freely between behaving
morally or immorally (cf. idem: 120-121). As it is the place, par excellence, where
children are enlightened, there is no other institution that can suit the third element better.
The two previous elements, i.e. discipline and the attachment to social groups, are
also present in the educational institution. The educator is the authority the pupil must
respect, and his knowledge is to be viewed as superior to what the pupil knows. School
practices, mainly when it comes to behaviour, are imbued with a certain regularity. Both
aspects are related to the first element, i.e. discipline. Along with that, the pupil must learn
how to behave towards his peers, and how to work in a group. The division of pupils in
classes generates their identification with a group, providing the second element of
morality, i.e. attachment to social groups. To sum up, the authority of the teacher and the
regularity of school practices instil discipline; attachment to a social group is fostered by
the structure of classes; and finally, autonomy or understanding is developed when the
teacher enlightens the students with his explanations. The school is, thus, the main
institution to develop individuals morally.
Nonetheless, there is a paradox that lies in the heart of morality. If it is an
organised set of rules, it has to be organised by a person or a group of people. Morality is
thus a construct that is built up according to the perspective of those who organise its
codes. At the same time, the people who are responsible for this fabrication are educated
according to a moral code that is previously constructed. Therefore, morality can only be
reconstructed, using the previous set of rules as a structure for the new one. James
Donald, in Sentimental Education: Schooling, Popular Culture and the Regulation of
Liberty (1992), refers to the paradox concerning the two truisms of society, i.e. that
people make society and society makes people: “[i]t is true that people act in self-directed
and intentional ways, and yet the patterns of consciousness, perception and desire that
inform their actions are already aspects of social being. It is equally true that personality is
socially determined, and yet people do act in and on social institutions” (idem: 2). This is
the same paradox of morality – it forms people, but it is also formed by people.
The two first elements of morality pertain to the first part of the paradox.
Discipline forms people, and it takes place because of the relationships developed in the
group. When it comes to the third element, autonomy, the individual is expected to
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choose freely between abiding or not by the rule. If he does so, morality is simply
reproduced. If the individual chooses to act differently from what the moral code
dictates, two consequences are obtained: (1) he will either be able to prove a new point
and thus transform morality, or (2) those who educate him will reinforce their teachings
up to the point in which the pupil will be led to conceive of morality following their
perspective, and he will consequently accept it. In a pluralistic society, the first
possibility is more likely to occur, whereas in a society that conceives of itself as a
totality, a re-evaluation of moral codes becomes highly unlikely.
We come to the crucial problem in utopian education: the set of moral codes it
transmits is an absolute, which implies that it cannot be changed. Utopian education
cannot help but be reproductive. Moral education is a key element in the establishment
of utopias: since it transmits the axiom of the utopist, i.e. the absolute set of moral
codes, to the populace, it generates the necessary adhesion to the system. This is the
reason why utopists, from Plato to More, from Campanella to Skinner, have stressed the
need for enlightenment in their perfect worlds. They believe they have found the true
morality, and, by enlightening their pupils, they provide them with lessons on how to be
the perfect citizen. When pupils understand the whys and wherefores of a given moral
rule, they cannot help but choose to abide by it. What dystopian writers attempt is to
show that utopian moral education is actually coercive, and that the understanding
provided by this kind of education is a fallacy.
Durkheim says that one cannot be a moral being when one is coerced. When the
individual does not agree with a given moral code, he must have the liberty of working
in order to transform it. Utopias cannot afford to allow this liberty, since they seek
reproduction. Two questions stem from this point: whether an individual can exert free
will in utopias; and, if the answer is negative, whether a utopian citizen can be a moral
being. These are questions with which dystopian writers deal, and which will be focused
upon in later chapters.
Nevertheless, before going into dystopias, we feel it is necessary to examine a
utopian text, so that we can observe the aspects we have presented in this chapter and
the one preceding it. Our choice is for Plato’s Republic, and we will proceed by
examining its premises, as well as its system of education.
- 31 -
2.5. Plato’s Republic: an Educational Utopia
The selection of Republic is justified by three points: its influence, its textual
structure, and finally by its content itself. Firstly, one has to acknowledge that it is a
seminal text for the utopian tradition in the Western civilisation. Its influence upon both
the creation and development of the genre, and other sub-genres, is inarguable. As
already shown, Republic can be seen as the founding text of the type of utopia which is
known as the planned society. Its relevance for dystopian literature is great, since it is
the engineered paradise dystopian writers aim at criticising.
The second reason lies in the structure of the treatise: most utopian writers describe
a society that is to be seen as already existent, in which an outsider, usually the narrator, is
placed and consequently presents it to the readers. Utopia does not exist in Republic. The
characters presented are philosophers whose attempt is to discover fundamental laws and
structures that will enable humankind to achieve the perfect society. Throughout the
dialogue, the characters describe objectively the social-political organisation that is to equip
the utopian community with its rules, if it is to be materialised. Plato systematises its
creation and makes it possible for us to visualise its mechanics. Instead of showing a
utopian community, he provides us with the utopian system.
The third, and most important, reason that has led us to approach Republic is
evidenced by the rules themselves, many of which have become paradigms for Western
utopian thought. The most important of these features are the division of society in
classes, the centralisation of power, and the strength given to the system of education,
which is thoroughly discussed. Some other features are also present in many utopian
and dystopian texts, such as the abolition of the family and of private property, as well
as the use of eugenics. However, these are not as constant as the three mentioned above,
and, therefore, will not be discussed here.
One of the first characteristics one may notice is the existence of different social
classes. There are three of these groups, each of which is supposed to work for the
benefit of society in a specific way. This division obeys a hierarchy, which, in turn,
promotes the centralisation of power. At the bottom is the class of the Workers, who are
responsible for providing the necessary supplies for the community as well as dealing
with its economy. The second class is that of the Auxiliaries or Guardians, whose duty
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is to assure safety and implement governmental acts. And finally, at the top, the
Philosopher-Kings, who are in charge of ruling the community.
These classes derive from what Robin Waterfield (1993) refers to as the
“Principle of Specialisation
4
”. Waterfield explains that the principle regards each
individual as having a single talent with which he can contribute towards the welfare of
the community. This individual is supposed to perform one function alone for his entire
life (idem: xxii). Since each citizen is expected to fulfil a specific role, defined by PS,
he is placed in the group in which his abilities can be best used. Consequently, PS leads
to the paradigmatic structure of classes, as it defines the class to which each individual
is to be allocated (cf. idem).
However, this division is to be effected while the individual is working on the
development of his potentialities, i.e. when he is being educated. Following PS,
schoolmasters are firstly supposed to spot a pupil’s single talent, which is to be
developed with guidance, subsequently generating a specific skill. The citizen, not a
pupil any longer, is then expected to take responsibility for a certain social function,
which is directly related to the skill that has been developed. PS refers to the secondary
aim of education, that of training an individual to fulfil a specific social role.
Here we touch that which is arguably the crucial feature of Plato’s community:
education. The community Plato devises is completely structured on its educational
system. Booker acknowledges that “[m]uch of The Republic is dedicated to a
description of the system of education” (1994: 61). According to Waterfield (1993),
Plato writes Republic in the decade of 370 b.C.. By that time, the Greek concept of
education had evolved to what is known as Paideia. As we have shown earlier, the aim
of a system of education based on this ideal is to form the perfect citizen, i.e. an
individual who is expected to choose courses of action that are beneficial to society.
Plato follows such an ideal in his treatise. Renato José de Oliveira (1998) argues that the
project of Plato’s educational system is to form a completely ordered society, in which
the imperfections of the real world are to be erased (idem: 35). This system is closely
linked to PS: it is applied with a utilitarian drive, with a view at teaching citizens to
serve their community in specific roles.
Bearing the mechanics of PS in mind, one can conclude that it entails two
important consequences: it provides satisfaction to the citizen, and also co-operation
4
Hereby to be referred to as PS.
- 33 -
amongst the members of the community. As the individual does that which he is best
suited for, he is rewarded with self-fulfilment. At the same time, the community gains,
since the State is able to cater for the social demands by having a specialised citizen
dealing with a specific situation. Hence, the parts, represented by the citizens, contribute
to the operativeness of the whole, the community, and foster the unity of the social
body. In short, the State maximises and carefully shapes the potentials of an individual,
and at the same time provides the feeling of self-fulfilment to the citizens. This
generates social attachment.
However, this is not the only point in Plato’s educational system. The philosopher
starts the debate by having his characters discussing the nature of morality. The most
important concern in Republic is not specific functions, but moral education. Every
individual, from all classes, no exceptions allowed, is obliged to be educated in the morals
of the State. Thus, the system is guaranteed to be endorsed by all the members of the
community. Waterfield (1993) comments briefly on the educational system of the utopian
society envisioned by Plato, saying that the working class – and we may infer that this is
true for all classes – “[is] not expected to disagree with the values of the community, and
this is partly a result of their social conditioning” (idem: xxiv).
This is clearly seen in the passage in which Adeimantus and Socrates discuss the
curriculum. The first asks what should be taught to the republic’s children, and the
second answers with another question, asking “[s]hall we, then, casually allow our
children to listen to any old stories, made up by just anyone, and to take into their minds
views which, on the whole, contradict those we’ll want them to have as adults?” (Plato,
1993: 71). Both agree that it would not be sensible to allow values that are in
discordance with those of the government to be taught. The harmony between education
and the morals of the State is crucial if a utopian community is to be established.
Notwithstanding, the part that strikes us most is the way in which the
philosopher presents this necessity: the views of the platonic citizen must be in
complete conformity with what the rulers devise. Moral education in Plato’s society can
then be compared to social conditioning. Its aim is to lead the citizenry into endorsing
the political system. As Booker (1994) points it, small children are taught “carefully
chosen myths that help to indoctrinate them in the official ideology of the State. (...) the
material being taught is carefully controlled to assure that the students do not develop
ideas or opinions contrary to those of the State” (idem: 61).
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If we articulate Althusser’s view of education with Foucault’s theory of automatic
docility, it can be claimed that the platonic school is the ideological apparatus in charge of
disciplining individuals, subsequently transforming them into docile bodies. If we refer
back to Renato José de Oliveira (1998) – who says that a utopist can only turn his project
into an actual society by reaching complete adhesion to his views – we can conclude that
moral education is the key feature, the tool, through which the ideology of Plato’s utopian
State is disseminated, and that its objective is to generate the acceptance and further
endorsement of the official ideology, fostering unity, and strengthening the State itself.
The school is a machine that inculcates the State’s views in the minds of the citizenry, and
feeds the rulers with power, as it enables them to act as puppeteers of the social body.
The power of the State is in the hands of the Philosopher-King, who is the final
product of the platonic educational system (Pasold, 1999: 21). According to Werner
Jaeger (apud Oliveira, 1998: 40), the philosopher’s function is not only to rule, but to
educate the citizenry. He is seen as the supreme educator. The Philosopher-King is
supposed to dedicate his life to the pursuit of knowledge and its further transmission.
Plato uses the myth of the cave to explain the mechanics of this quest. However, the
myth does not simply symbolise the pursuit of knowledge in the treatise. It has also
become a cornerstone in Western culture as it regards reason and education.
The myth is a metaphor for the process a thinker goes through when he is
supposedly seeking new knowledge. The philosopher leaves the cave and is able to see
the world more clearly by the light of the sun. The sun stands for the faculty of reason,
or rationality. On the other hand, the cave is dark, and therefore represents ignorance.
The philosopher comes out of the dark and uses the light of the sun to uncover the
hidden truths of this world, which are represented by objects. He gathers all this data
and systematises it in what we call knowledge. This whole process represents the
acquisition of knowledge by thinking rationally.
Nevertheless, the Philosopher-King is not devoted only to contemplation. It is his
duty to transmit the knowledge he has systematised to the rest of the community, so that
they can also grasp what is taken as truth. The thinker becomes the teacher, and his fellow
men his pupils. However, he needs a tool with which to transmit what he has seen: the
bonfire takes such role. The light of the bonfire stands for the light of the sun, both
representing rationality. The philosopher uses the light of the flames to cast shadows on
the walls of the cave, shadows that are supposed to represent the objects which have been
contemplated outside. The bonfire and the walls where the shadows are projected become,
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thus, the apparatus with which the philosopher is enabled to transmit his knowledge, i.e.
the cave becomes a school. The other members of the community, who are described as
chained slaves, are thus exposed to representations of the objects which they did not have
the opportunity of seeing, and are, thus, set free from ignorance.
This whole process, however, is based upon a fallacy: rationality. Tomaz Tadeu
da Silva, in “Monstros, ciborgues e clones: os fantasmas da Pedagogia Crítica” (in
Silva, org., 2000), explains that the theory of the rational subject conceives of the
human being as the centre and the origin of thought, and rationality as pre-social, extra-
linguistic, and ahistorical (cf. idem: 14 – 5). Rationality is considered a human feature
which is not influenced by society, language or historical contexts. The theory declares
that the faculty of reason provides man with the ability of apprehending reality directly,
in its totality, not under a certain perspective.
David Harvey, in Condição pós-moderna (2004), explains that the rise of
rationality as the ultimate authority in the production of meaning takes place during the
Age of Reason, or the Age of Enlightenment. Harvey argues that, according to the
project of the Enlightenment, which is very much in key with Plato’s Republic, only
reason would be able to reveal the universal and immutable qualities of humankind
(idem: 23). By making use of rationality, the individual would be able to reach
conclusions about reality, conclusions that would be organised into systems of
knowledge. Knowledge would then be transmitted, and would free humankind from
irrationalities such as myths, religion and superstition, as well as from any arbitrary use
of power (idem). Rationality became the redeemer of humanity, by bringing knowledge,
the new divine and absolute truth.
Nonetheless, there are some contradictions in this conception of rationality, and
it is from one such contradiction that the fallacy of Plato’s system of education stems. In
A verdade e as formas jurídicas (1999), Michel Foucault shows that Illuminism
conceives of knowledge as something definite, which already exists prior to its being
discovered, i.e.. it is pre-social, extra-linguistic and ahistorical (cf. idem: 8). This
perspective postulates that knowledge originates from the object which is studied.
Foucault questions this assumption, and explains that knowledge derives from the
interaction between subject and object. The perspective the former takes when
examining the latter always conditions the result of such interaction (cf. idem: 16 – 8).
The information one obtains from such process is not in the object itself, but results
from one’s own interpretations. As the individual carries out this process, he is actually
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determining the reality of the object, i.e. (re)creating it. Foucault, concludes that all
knowledge is actually a relationship of domination between the knower and what is
known, which makes it rather incoherent to affirm that knowledge is not partial or
perspective (idem: 18/25).
Consequently, we are faced with another problem: the mechanism of production
of knowledge: rationality. François Châtelet explains its mechanics in his Uma história
da razão (1994). He gives an account of the origins of rational thought, and refers to
Plato’s dialectics, which is a technique structured on the use of language. Through a
dialogue, a sort of question and answer game, an argumentative system is created. It
enables the speakers to analyse the arguments of their interlocutors, and further find
inconsistencies in their discourse (idem: 24). The result is that the speakers can show
that the arguments that their interlocutors had at first taken for granted are actually
assumptions, fabrications. Châtelet affirms that Plato, then, wishes to create a universal
competence to be known as rationality, whose function is to deconstruct prerogatives
that do not represent reality, thus affording the possibility for truth to be discovered (cf.
idem: 33).
Rationality is not extra-linguistic as the theory of the rational subject states. It
turns out that, if it is structured on language, it is also socially and historically
conditioned. If we further consider the Saussurian theory of the arbitrariness of the sign,
we can only conclude that rationality, due to its linguistic character, is also arbitrary.
Rationality enables one to deconstruct discourses, but not to arrive at any conclusion
about reality, since such conclusions are formed by another fabrication: language.
Dialectics may enable one to find inconsistencies in someone else’s discourse, but it
cannot have a definitive say on truth. The conclusions one arrives at through rationality
are actually agreements among the parties in a dialogue, and they result from a
linguistic confrontation (cf. idem: 24). What rationality does, then, is to transform
assumptions into axioms, and, subsequently, hide their character of constructs, since the
discourse of reason appears to be impartial. These axioms are organised into systems of
knowledge, which are also ordered according to a given perspective. Knowledge is the
final product of rationality, and its business is to represent truth.
Plato’s myth of the cave is, consequently, grounded on a fallacy: the discourse of
rationality. The myth confers authority to such a discourse as if it were the one device to
provide people with the truth. However, the light of the sun is not the only light with
which one can contemplate reality. When the philosopher systematises any collected
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data, he does so following a given perspective. This subsequently determines the final
product of the systematisation.
After determining what truth is, the Philosopher-King assumes the role of
educator. He transmits his knowledge and values to pupils, who, in turn, have their
characters and perspectives on reality conditioned. The inhabitants are set free from
ignorance, but are not made free to leave the cave and experience reality by themselves.
Flávio Kothe (2002: 103) affirms that it is a persuasive method that forces the prisoner
to exchange a prison for another. He continues, arguing that the system of education of
the cave is actually a double lie. If knowledge is a construct, it can be seen as a lie. Its
transmission, aiming at enlightening minds, is a lie which contains in itself another lie.
The platonic school does not enlighten, it conditions one to believe and follow
fabrications. Kothe explains this idea:
O ‘engodo’ maior não está na parede nos fundos da caverna, e sim no gesto daquele que diz
que já está livre, põe-se a libertar os outros e afirma ter contemplado o sol lá fora. O
verdadeiro teatro começa onde ele aparentemente acaba. Este é o grande truque mágico:
refazer a magia enquanto parece que ela está sendo desfeita. Explicar como se dá o engodo,
para melhor escamotear o engodo que está sendo preparado enquanto se explica o engodo.
(idem: 106)
The system of education of the cave brings no liberty. Kothe argues that when
the philosopher frees the slave from ignorance, he assumes control over the latter with
his concepts of truth (idem: 125). Knowledge becomes a prison, and the cave, instead of
being left and replaced by light, perpetuates itself. (cf. idem: 127-8).
The metaphor of the bonfire is also an interesting factor in Plato’s text. With the
help of its light, philosophers project shadows on the walls of the cave, so that those
who cannot leave have a chance of knowing the objects apprehended by the former
group when they were outside. The light of the sun represents reason, and the objects
that are contemplated are truth. The shadows on the walls represent knowledge of the
truth, and the bonfire is a metaphor for education itself. Nonetheless, only the shadows
are shown, but not the mechanics that enables the philosophers to acquire knowledge.
This dynamics draws the attention of the pupil to the object as it is represented, which
prevents him from focusing on the educator, and, thus, the former cannot perceive the
ideology that lies behind the mechanism.
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One of the things Plato does not explain is why some individuals are capable of
freeing themselves and leaving the cave whereas others are not. Plato only says that the
light of the sun could blind them, but he does not explain why this same light does not
blind the philosophers. It seems chance still has a role to play in this planned world. The
citizens who become philosophers are the “chosen ones”, whose duty it is to educate the
ignorant, set them free, and govern them, a rather contradictory movement. However, the
philosopher depends on the ignorance of his peers in order to keep his function in society,
since, if everyone is able to contemplate truth without the help of philosophers, the role of
the educator becomes unnecessary. Kothe shows that the philosopher depends on the
bonfire as well as the shadow. Firewood has to be constantly feeding the flames, so that
the educator can transmit knowledge and maintain his role in society. The philosopher
becomes a slave to his own system. Truth ceases to be the end of philosophy and is
replaced by the system per se (cf. idem: 134 – 5).
The utopian system becomes greater than the individual because utopias are
conceived of as totalities. As we have seen, such societies imply an imposition of
absolute moral values. This imposition takes place in the form of moral education: the
morality of a utopian society enslaves the citizens. Thus, the community can be
perpetuated in harmony. Our analysis of Plato’s Republic shows how important moral
education is in utopia. The dystopian writer questions utopia by showing the
consequences of the latter’s practices. Both novels we have chosen to compare in this
dissertation question moral education as conceived of by utopian thought. Aldous
Huxley and Anthony Burgess lay bare the destruction of the human being by exposing
the result of utopian education: the erasure of their essence, free will.
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3. Free Will and the Utopian Thought
The danger of freedom is just letting them see
That you are not bound by their morality
(“Born as a Stranger”, Blaze Bayley)
The concept of free will is of ultimate importance for our dissertation. Not only is
it a key feature for developing the morality of an individual, given the element of
autonomy, but we believe it is also one of the main characteristics that enables a human
being to be more than a mere animal. There has been a great philosophical debate about
this topic in recent academic work, as exemplified in The Oxford Handbook of Free Will
(Kane ed., 2002). Late discussions deal with a plethora of topics that range from
theological research concerning the idea of God’s omniscience as well as fatalism to the
field of the so-called hard sciences, in which theories such as quantum physics, modality,
mathematical probability, and neuroscience are considered. Each of these views, however,
aims at strengthening one of the three perspectives that form the central division of
discussions concerning free will: libertarianism
5
, determinism and compatibilism.
3.1. Free Will: A Definition
Libertarianism conceives of man as an entity entirely responsible for his actions.
Man’s actions are believed to be a product of his conscious deliberation. Clifford
Williams explains, in his Free Will and Determinism: A Dialogue (cf. 1980: 19), that
the libertarian perspective rules that free will involves “the ability to choose differently
from the way we actually choose”. This refers to what Robert Kane (2002) affirms to be
the first prerogative of libertarianism, that “it is ‘up to us’ what we choose from an array
5
It is important to clarify the meaning of the word “libertarianism” in this context: it refers to the
perspective that conceives of man’s actions as stemming from man’s free will. There is no political
meaning implied. The adjective libertarian assumes the same meaning in this context.
of alternative possibilities” (idem: 5), an argument known as “the power to do
otherwise”. It means that when faced with a number of options, an individual makes a
choice, which is caused by his own deliberation. It also implies that he would be able to
choose any of the other available courses of action should he wish to do so, even if the
conditions prior to the actual choice were to remain the same.
There is also another prerogative informing the libertarian perspective, that
which says that “the origin or source of our choices and actions is in us and not in
anyone or anything else over which we have no control” (idem). Libertarians, thus,
argue that free will depends on two conditions: man needs to be able to choose courses
of action different from the one he has actually chosen, and the process of choosing
must be effected by the agent.
Kane (idem) explains that determinism is diametrically opposed to the
libertarian view. It rules firstly that it is not up to the agent to choose from alternative
possibilities, since there is only one possibility open (idem: 6). According to
determinism, one is not able to act in a different way but the way one actually acts.
Secondly, determinists believe that the origin of one’s actions is not in oneself, but in
conditions, antecedent events and laws, over which the agent can have no control
(idem). Were one to be exposed to a different set of previous conditions, one would
certainly behave differently. Choice is thus erased, and the actions of an individual
become a product of an endless chain of external events.
One of the problems that stems from the confrontation between both views lies
in the concept of agency. There are two types of agency that are related to the free will
debate: “agent causation” and “event causation”. In the first one, actions are caused by
the choices of an agent, whereas in the second, actions result from a chain of events.
Libertarians believe that man is able to make conscious choices, without any external
condition influencing them. Therefore, they advocate agent causation. Determinists, on
the other hand, advocate event causation, as they regard the actions of the individual as
being a product of previous events and conditions.
Timothy O’Connor (idem: 346) explains that agent causation depends on
intention, which, in turn, is based on a reason or motivation. One acts when one intends
to effect a change in his surroundings. As the agent deliberates, he reflects on different
reasons for acting, and chooses one of them that will inform and direct his intentions.
O’Connor argues that the agent is responsible for causing the intention when choosing
one of the available reasons or motivations (cf. idem: 348). The agent then acts, which
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consequently derives an event that initiates a chain of subsequent events. According to
the author, a freely chosen activity depends on agent causation (idem: 340).
Notwithstanding, there is an element in the process of agent causation that does
not refer to the agent himself: the reason or motivation that informs one’s intentions.
The reasons the individual chooses when deliberating are not created by himself. They
are external elements that influence the agent at the moment of making a choice. Such
reasons might stem from the situation in which the agent finds himself, which obey the
rule of event causation. The determinist would then be able to claim that actions are
determined by a chain of events, and not by the individual, which is an aspect that goes
against the prerogative of libertarianism that the origin of our actions and choices is in us.
If determinism were true, what the individual does would follow event
causation. That implies that one’s actions cannot be different from what they actually
are, as they are configured by a prior chain of events. The libertarian argument that man
has the power to do otherwise is thus questioned. The determinist attacks this premise
with the so-called “Consequence Argument”. Bernard Berofsky explains it as follows:
Roughly, the claim is that, since no one has the power to alter the past or to alter the laws of
nature, and since, under determinism, a proposition describing any person’s actual action,
say P1, follows logically from a proposition that is a conjunction of the laws of nature and
all the truths about the past, then no one has the power to alter the truth of P1, even if P1
describes a future action. The argument rests on the assumption that an inability to alter the
truth of a proposition P entails an inability to alter the truth of any proposition that is a
logical consequence of P. (idem: 194)
According to the argument, an agent’s choices are illusory, they are not choices
at all. They are logical consequences deriving from previous conditions. One is
practically coerced into behaving in a given way by his past. Determinism conceives of
the way an agent acts as unavoidable.
Both determinists and libertarians provide strong arguments in order to enforce
their views. Both perspectives are extreme, which would lead one to assume they are
mutually exclusive. A third view, namely compatibilism, on the other hand, does not
conceive of libertarianism and determinism as opposites. Compatibilists argue that the
two theories aforementioned sometimes overlap.
Paul Russell, an advocate of compatibilism, proposes an analysis of the
existence of free will along with determinism which is based on four levels: “close-
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range”, “middle-range”, “horizon” and “cosmic” (idem: 229-256). Such levels refer to
the influence determinism exerts on the agent. The first level is concerned with freedom
of action, the second with will, the third with the formation of reasoning processes, and
the fourth with the ability of self-creation.
The close-range level aims at the control an agent holds over his own conduct.
One is considered free in this level when one is able to act according to one’s own will
or desires (idem: 233). The author refers to this type of freedom as “freedom of action”,
and argues that this is the freedom with which classical compatibilism is concerned.
Free will is not the point, but only the freedom to act according to one’s own intentions.
If the conduct of an individual is regulated by his own will, and his decisions follow his
own beliefs and values, then, he can be considered free in the level of action. One would
not be free in this level provided that there were external impediments or obstacles that
would prevent him from following a course of action he chooses as appropriate.
The second level is the middle-range, which refers to the intention or will of an
agent. The concern is not behaviour anymore, but whether the individual is able to regulate
his own will. If the agent is unable to direct his intentions in light of the reasons available,
or if his will is manipulated by another agent, it follows that the conduct of this individual is
controlled, since its origin, i.e. the agent’s will, is also controlled (idem: 234).
However, our ability to reflect on our own beliefs and desires enables us to question
our reasons for choosing one option over another as well as our values themselves.
Reflection also enables us to detect manipulative forces that might influence our will and
desires. Russell refers to this ability of reflection as self-knowledge (idem: 235). As it
provides us with the possibility of detecting mind manipulators and also of re-evaluating
our beliefs and values, we are able to maintain our freedom of will. Reasoning and self-
knowledge afford us the possibility of changing our will.
Nonetheless, there are two factors of determinism that still rule that one does not
have control over one’s own will and actions, namely nature and the past, which inform
the Consequence Argument. Russell (idem: 236) argues that the problem of this argument
lies in personification. He explains that being a controller involves being an agent, i.e. a
being with intentions, who can drive the controllee into a given state. Nature and the past
are personified as controllers, but they cannot assume such a role, as they are not beings
and they are not capable of having intentions. They do determine, but they do not control.
The person who is in control of the process is the agent himself when he
deliberates and chooses a course of action, by using reasons provided by nature and the
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past. These reasons are determined, but the agent manipulates them when he exercises
self-knowledge, which, in turn, enables him to exercise free will. Hence, in the second
level, it can be concluded that determinism and libertarianism are compatible.
The third level deals with ultimate agency, i.e. the formation of one’s own character
and reasoning processes. This range of the horizon brings a crucial problem into the context
of free will debates: the formation of “reason-responsive mechanisms”. It refers to how the
cognitive processes we use in order to reflect on and re-evaluate our own values and beliefs
are formed. These mechanisms are structured into a mental system, which is commonly
known as subjectivity. This conceptual matrix, as we will call it from this point on, dictates
the way an individual interprets reality. This system is built by social relations, upbringing,
education, one’s own experiences and the way one deals with all these factors.
This level brings the fourth level, the cosmic range, in which the individual is seen
as self-creator, into the debate. It is not known to what extent an individual has his
conceptual matrix determined by external factors. The range of the power the human being
has at creating his own self and even the very possibility of effecting such a creation are
also unknown. Bearing it in mind, Russell (idem: 249) claims that only the first and the
second levels presented in his analysis bear any importance for ordinary moral life. He
argues that both the Horizon range and the Cosmic range are outside the boundaries of
practical life, and further affirms that these two latter levels become irrelevant for the free
will debate. He concludes his ideas in the following excerpt:
When action is produced by the agent’s will, and the agent is clearly capable of rational
self-control (that is, reason-responsive), further worries about the ultimate origin or source
of the agent’s will – in the absence of any worries about manipulation – seem remote from
our usual concerns and interests. (…) One reason why horizon concerns about ultimacy
appear disconnected from ordinary moral life is that, unlike close and middle-distance
issues, there is no obvious or decisive way to settle them. That is to say, when we raise
questions about ultimacy, as distinct from issues of rationality and manipulation, there
seems no way to prove that an agent was their ultimate source. The skeptic can always
challenge such claims by arguing that any appearance of ultimate agency simply reflects
our ignorance of the relevant causes at work. We become trapped, consequently, in issues
and claims that can never be resolved. Beyond this, the skeptic is also likely to argue that it
is not even clear what ultimacy demands – so how can we ever verify
6
that it is satisfied in
a given case? Clearly, general considerations of this kind lend credence to Dennett’s claim
that horizon problems are the artificial product of (overintellectualized) Western philosophy
and theology. (idem)
6
Emphasis of the author.
- 44 -
Compatibilism accepts determinism insofar as both past and nature are
conceived of as determinants of one’s conceptual matrix and the reasons one uses when
evaluating courses of action. It also accepts free will to the extent that a human
individual is an intelligent being, and, therefore, is able to deliberate and re-evaluate his
own reasons for acting as well as his beliefs and values. Both past and nature limit
man’s space when it comes to reflecting, but this space is still wide enough for man to
manipulate the elements it contains. The way one deals with experiences and the
perspectives they derive is what enables one to exercise free will. Compatibilism unites
both consciousness, which implies that man is able to control his own actions and will
by deliberating, and subconsciousness, which determines the way one interprets reality.
Taking for granted Russell’s conclusion that questions concerning ultimacy are
irrelevant, we propose to continue our work assuming compatibilism as true.
3.2. Free Will and its Discontents
Freedom is a concept that carries great weight in the history of humankind. It is
generally seen as a distinctive feature of the human being, and is prized as a
representative of man’s highest aspirations. Nevertheless, as Erich Fromm (2004)
argues, there are two kinds of freedom: “freedom from” and “freedom to
7
”.
Utopianism offers the first kind, as it suggests ways that can ideally free us from the
unsavoury conditions we face in our societies. However, it usually casts an
unfavourable eye on “freedom to”, or, what we commonly call “free will”. Therefore,
the consequences free will entails have to be considered, bearing in mind the way
utopianism deals with it.
Augustine, in On Free Choice of the Will (1993), makes considerations on the
concept that go beyond the debate concerning libertarianism and determinism
8
. The
bishop writes a dialogue with the objective of discovering the origin of evil. He finds out
that evil comes from the possibility of sinning, and that such a possibility is implied by
free will (idem: 27). Freedom of the will gives man the ability to choose different courses
of action, which can cause either good or bad consequences. This very possibility of
7
Emphasis of the author.
8
Thomas Williams (1993) argues that Augustine is a libertarian (idem: xii-xiii). However, even though he
discusses the existence of free will in his treatise, this is not his point.
- 45 -
choosing is what gives evil a chance to appear. It turns out that the origin of evil, as
Augustine claims, is free will.
Notwithstanding, Augustine does not affirm that free will makes man evil. On the
contrary, he argues that a human being can only be good if he is granted free will.
Augustine says that “[i]f human beings are good things, and they cannot do right unless
they so will, then they ought to have a free will, without which they cannot do right”
(idem: 30). Being good is acting according to the moral values of a given society, but
doing so out of choice. Augustine is stressing moral responsibility, showing that man can
only be considered morally responsible for an act if this given act is a product of his
conscious choice.
Here lies the ambiguity of free will: it can potentially generate evil, but only on
the condition that man is able to exercise it can he be good. Goodness is then conferred
to man by a factor that is simultaneously the origin of evil. Erich Fromm (2004),
drawing on the biblical myth of the forbidden fruit, argues that the first human act is one
of transgression that results from free will (idem: 27 – 8). He explains that as Adam acts
against God’s orders he sets himself free, and emerges “from the unconscious existence
of prehuman life to the level of man”. He also claims that “[a]cting against the
command of authority, committing a sin, is (…) the first act of freedom, that is, the first
human
9
act” (idem).
This is the first human act because it is the first occasion in which man uses his
mental abilities in order to weigh different options, and subsequently make a conscious
choice, based on his reasoning. Free will refers to the third element in the scheme of
morality Durkheim (2002) proposes, that of autonomy. Man needs to use his reason,
and freely choose the option he conceives as right, even if such an option is not right in
the eyes of the authorities over him. Therefore, being human comprehends the
possibility of disobedience. As argued before, autonomy enables the individual to go
against the moral values of his society. But it does not follow that he is necessarily going
to position himself this way. Free will gives man autonomy and humanity, by giving him
the responsibility for choosing between right and wrong, between good and evil.
Considering society, acting in a good manner is doing what is beneficial towards
the welfare of the community by following its moral code, whereas doing evil is going
against it. Utopia is supposed to be the perfect harmonic community. As shown before,
9
Emphasis of the author.
- 46 -
for perfect harmony to exist, there cannot be discordance, which implies that the State
cannot allow individuals to act in a manner that goes against the established moral
values. Free will becomes a problem for the realisation of utopia; restricting the
individual’s ability at exercising it becomes an ultimate necessity.
- 47 -
4. Education, Utopia and Free Will in the Microcosm:
A Clockwork Orange
So far as we are human, what we do must be either
evil or good; so far as we do evil or good, we are
human; and it is better, in a paradoxical way, to do
evil than to do nothing; at least we do exist.
(T. S. Eliot)
4.1. Rage Against a Clockwork Time
A Clockwork Orange was firstly published in 1962, a bleak time for the world, as it
was facing one of the most intense periods of its history: the Cold War. There was a general
distrust of planned societies, epitomised in the anti-utopian stance of many writers of the
post-war period (cf. Bergonzi, 1970: 175-177). Science was also viewed under a suspicious
perspective, given the possible threat of a nuclear holocaust and the end of modern
civilisation. It was definitely not a time for utopian dreams, but for dystopian warnings.
In his 1985 (1978: 95), Anthony Burgess explains the strange title of A
Clockwork Orange saying that it was taken from the Cockney phrase “as queer as a
clockwork orange”. He argues it was appropriate for the novel, a dystopia dealing with
behaviourist methods that apply “Pavlovian, or mechanical, laws to an organism which,
like a fruit, [is] capable of colour and sweetness” (idem). He also points out that the
Malay word “orang” means human being. The word “clockwork” implies a mechanistic
way of looking at man, which is that of determinism, whereas “orange” is related to an
organic idea, thus representing free will. One might ask oneself if Burgess conceives of
man using the compatibilist view exposed in the previous chapter – is the Burgessian
man a clockwork orange? Is he simultaneously determined and free?
The opposition between libertarianism and determinism is part of the central
theme of the novel. This is shown in its opening line, with the question “[w]hat’s it going
to be then, eh?” (2000: 5), a phrase that is echoed fourteen times throughout the story
10
.
Sisk (1997: 57) affirms that the question points to the central issue of A Clockwork
Orange: moral choice. It is continually repeated in order to remind the reader of such
issue. The whole story is predicated in the question “whether it is better for individuals to
choose freely between good and evil or for the State to protect itself by removing the
capability of choice and enforcing only good through behavioral conditioning” (idem).
Burgess was led to write the novel by his concerns with an ever-growing
acceptance of behaviouristic ideas around the world. Russia had already produced Pavlov,
and the West Skinner. Burgess (1978: 94) argues that English newspapers had been
presenting techniques such as electric shocks, drugs and conditioning as possible ways of
treating criminals in order to keep the streets safe. Geoffrey Aggeler, in Anthony Burgess:
The Artist as Novelist (1979: 170), affirms that Burgess was deeply concerned with the
use of behaviourist methods in American prisons. According to Aggeler, Burgess had
read accounts of some experiments whose purpose was mainly to limit the freedom of
choice of the prisoners in order to produce expedient behaviour. The catalyser for Burgess
to start writing A Clockwork Orange was a serious proposal that a British politician put
forward that convicts be conditioned to be good (idem: 173). Burgess says that after this
“[he] began to see red and felt [he] had to write the book” (apud idem).
One of the most important names in behaviouristic science was that of B. F.
Skinner. Scientist and author of books such as The Behavior of Organisms, Science and
Human Behavior and Beyond Freedom and Dignity, Skinner advocates a society in which
man would be scientifically controlled to its utmost. In Science and Human Behavior
(1965: 115-116), he dismisses freedom as a construct, and conceives of a type of man that is
based on concepts that do not take free will into consideration. As Blake Morrison explains
in “Introduction” (1996: xxii), “Skinner wanted to avoid notions of man as an autonomous,
free agent, and had a vision of a planned society”. Behaviourists are determinists, and,
therefore, argue that every human action is an effect from a prior external cause. They
believe the cause is manageable, and, subsequently, human behaviour can be controlled.
Skinner’s utopian novel Walden Two (1976), originally published in 1948, presents
us with a society that has done away with freedom and is engineered to the full. Frazier, the
character who has envisioned Walden Two, is portrayed as a God-like creature who plays
10
It appears four times in the first chapter of Part 1; five times in the first chapter of Part 2; three times in
the first chapter of part 3, and twice in the final chapter of the novel. In Parts 1 and 3 it is mouthed by the
protagonist, whereas in Part 2 it is also uttered by the prison chaplain, a character who opposes the
conditioning technique applied in Alex’s treatment.
- 49 -
with the lives of the citizens, testing new ways with which to control the populace of his
community. Skinner goes further with his proposals, and in 1968 suggests that education be
carried out through the use of machines (Goulart, 1987: 51). His is a mechanised world,
which has very much in common with traditional utopian thought.
A Clockwork Orange can be seen as a response to Skinner’s ideas (Booker,
1994: 112), a topic that would be revisited by Burgess in other works. In fact, John J.
Stinson, in Anthony Burgess Revisited (1991: 54), argues that the author’s stance in the
former novel is so pronounced against behaviourism that the media took him to be a
“béte noir of B. F. Skinner, thus virtually announcing himself as available on call to
refute any proclamations of the renowned behaviorist about necessary abridgments of
freedom and dignity”.
Burgess did not fail to see the link between education and conditioning in Skinner’s
work, which led him to affirm once that Walden Two, the society of the homonymous
book, was actually similar to “one of the better state universities” (apud Aggeler, 1979: 97).
However, Burgess still believed that education was different from conditioning, for the
former allowed the exercise of free will, whereas the latter did not. His horror of the loss of
freedom derived from behaviourist methods and his fear that such techniques could become
practices in institutions of education is summed up in the following passage:
We make a distinction between schooling and conditioning. If a child plays truant or shuts
his ears or throws spitballs at his teacher, this at least is evidence of free will. There is
something in all of us that warms to the recalcitrant pupil. But to consider hypnopaedia, or
sleep-teaching (which also features in Brave New World), cradle conditioning, adolescent
reflex bending, and the rest of the behaviourist armory, is to be appalled at the loss, even if
rewarded with sugar lumps, of individual liberty. Skinner’s title [Beyond Freedom and
Dignity] appals in itself. Beyond truth, beyond beauty, beyond goodness, beyond God,
beyond life. (1978: 91-92)
Burgess mentions Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, pointing to some
behaviourist methods that are used in the World State. For Burgess, the main topic of
Huxley’s novel is the opposition between free will and conditioned happiness, as he
states in the second volume of his autobiography You’ve Had Your Time (2002: 148).
Like the Savage, Burgess favours freedom of choice, even if that entails catastrophic
consequences. In 1985 (1978: 97), he explains that his view on life has much in
common with the view of the Savage from Brave New World:
- 50 -
What I have in general is a view of man which I may call Hebreo-Helleno-Christian-
humanist. It is the view which the Savage in Brave New World, who has been reared in the
wilds on a volume of William Shakespeare, brings to the stable utopia of AF 632: “I don’t
want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want
goodness, I want sin.” The World Controller, Mustapha Mond, sums it up for him: “In fact
you’re claiming the right to be unhappy.” Or the right, perhaps, not to find life dull. Perhaps
the kind of humanity that can produce Hamlet, Don Giovanni, the Choral Symphony, the
Theory of Relativity, Gaudí, Schoenberg and Picasso must, as a necessary corollary, also be
able to scare hell out of itself with nuclear weapons.
Not surprisingly, Huxley’s works were of extreme importance for Burgess. In
The Novel Now (1967: 40), he argues that Huxley was a novelist who dealt with the
opposing ideas of life, such as good and evil, passion and reason, instinct and intellect.
Writers who address dichotomies of life, such as Joseph Conrad, T. S. Eliot, and
Graham Greene, have also exerted a deep influence on Burgess. The clash between
opposites is one of the marked characteristics of his fiction. The dichotomy he most
commonly uses to inform his works is the one between good and evil, which is best
summed up in the concept of Manichaeism.
Manichaeism was a religion that first appeared in the third century A.D.
According to it, man is part of a dualistic universe, or a “duoverse” as Stinson calls it
(1991: 22), in which opposing forces are in everlasting and constant conflict with each
other, generating and moving life. Stinson (idem: 23) explains that the general view
Manichaeism provides is that evil and good overlap, i.e. the former is a positive agency
or path that leads to the knowledge of the latter, or vice-versa. Both evil and good, or
opposites of other categories, merge. One leads to the existence of the other. If the
individual knows one of the two elements of the dichotomy, he knows, by a way of
comparison, its opposite. If one of them becomes inexistent, consequently, the other
element cannot be, and the life-generating tension ceases. Thus, life becomes inert.
Following the Manichaean rationale, if a man’s ability to choose evil is
eliminated, goodness is also destroyed. There lies the importance Burgess gives to free
will: as the tension between good and evil is what gives life its dynamics, man has to be
able to choose one of those elements so that it can conflict with its counterpart, assuring
the continuity of life. In this sense, Burgess called himself a Manichee (apud Aggeler,
1979: 28), since he believed free will to be the essence of man’s humanity, the essence
of life itself. Stinson (1991: 23) explains that Burgess saw his contemporary world as a
place in which morality was stagnated, a result of the lack of freedom of choice and
- 51 -
one’s unwillingness to commit oneself to either good or evil. Consequently, man was
being dehumanised and life had become dull.
Burgess is a defender of free will, as he argues in 1985 (1978: 96). He says that
“[he is] committed to freedom of choice, which means that if [he] cannot choose to do
evil neither can [he] choose to do good. It is better to have our streets infested with
murderous young hoodlums than to deny individual freedom of choice” (idem).
Drawing on this rationale, Burgess writes A Clockwork Orange. His stance against
Skinnerian behaviourism is clearly defined, and the dynamics of the Manichaean
duoverse is explored in that the novel shows evil as being a path to goodness.
Differently from other dystopian novels, it does not present the reader with a
subverted version of a utopian society. Burgess describes a world which is clearly
enough a bad place: the level of violence is high, drugs are legally consumed in bars,
young hoodlums vandalise public areas; in short, this society is a nightmare.
It is an extrapolation of the Britain Burgess experienced in the 1960’s. That was
a time marked by a new phenomenon: the Mods and Rockers, i.e. gangs of young
hooligans who terrorised the streets. Burgess relates that he and Lynne (his first wife)
were appalled by witnessing some of them “knocking the hell out of each other” in the
streets of Hastings (2002: 26).
More than a mere spectator, however, Lynne had the displeasure of being
attacked by a group of young thugs in April 1944. She was beaten up, and consequently
had a miscarriage, which made it impossible for her to get pregnant again. Burgess uses
this real-life event in a passage of A Clockwork Orange – the assault and rape of Mrs. F.
Alexander, in chapter two of part one.
The Mods and Rockers were a new version of the Teddy Boys, allegedly a group
of young people from the 1950’s whose disappointment with Britain’s post-war decline
had led them to take an aggressive stance in society (cf. idem: 26). Britain had become a
dull place, spiritually dead, where Prufrock-like beings wandered around “in an
atmosphere of hesitation and inertia” (Dix, 1971: 11). The aggressiveness of the gangs
consisted in a response to the dullness and passivity that reigned in post-war Britain.
Alex, the main character of the novel is partially based on these hoodlums.
Hooliganism, however, was not a British exclusiveness. In a visit to Leningrad
in 1961, Burgess and Lynne were out late at night, having dinner at a restaurant, when
they suddenly heard loud noises at the door. A group of young people, known as the
“stilyagi”, a sort of gang that resembled the English Teddy Boys, were banging at the
- 52 -
entrance to the restaurant. Burgess and his wife were apprehensive and left.
Nevertheless, when the gang members saw the couple was about to leave, they
courteously stepped aside, letting them go. Burgess was surprised at the event and saw
that the Russians were not that different from Westerners.
This experience, along with the fact of the English Teddy Boys, helped Burgess
shape his anti-hero and narrator of the novel, Alex. He is a fifteen-year-old thug, who
leads a gang, and spends his nights with his friends carrying out different sorts of illegal
activities. They are involved in robberies, beatings, rapes and even a murder. Alex is
evil, but he is committed, differently from the rest of the people in his society, who are
excessively dull.
The narrative is an autobiographical story told by Alex. It is a crescendo of
violence divided in three parts, each containing seven chapters, which Sisk (1997: 67)
terms as “Alex damned”, “Alex purged”, and “Alex resurrected”. In the first part, the
protagonist basically tells us about his adventures, and relishes in the violence he and
those of his gang perpetrate on helpless individuals. He tells us of beatings, rapes, and
paedophilia as if they were nice fun to be had. Alex is damned indeed, for he acts like a
devil. The climax of the first part is reached after Alex kills the owner of a house he
breaks into, when he is betrayed by his gang members. He is caught by the police, and,
subsequently, sent to prison.
The second part is the sad part of the story, as Alex says. He is in prison, but his
being there does not prevent him from brutalising other people. In fact, he kills a
cellmate. He is then chosen to be the subject of a new conditioning method, the
Ludovico Technique, which is supposed to cure him of his violent impulses. He is
turned into a perfectly law-abiding and peace-loving citizen, who is made unable to act
violently. Hence, he is purged of his natural brutality.
In the third part, Alex is sent into the world again. He is unable to cope with it,
though. The world is depicted as a very violent place, but now Alex is the defenceless
victim. He is brutalised by people who had previously been beaten by him, and suffers
until he finally attempts to kill himself. This attempt is used in order to denigrate the
methods of the government concerning criminals, and Alex is restored to his former
self. He resurrects, for, in the end, he resumes his life of violence.
The formal structure of the novel follows what Philip E. Ray, in “Alex Before and
After: A New Approach to Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange” (1981: 487), has defined as
the ABA pattern. It means that the events that happen in the first part of the novel take
- 53 -
place again in its third part, which, in turn, brings special importance to the second and
central part. However, the events of the first part are re-contextualised in the third, for in
the former Alex is the victimiser, a role which is changed as he becomes the victim in the
latter part. It is true that the people who were involved in the situations depicted in part
one are the same who are present in part three, but there is an inversion of roles. Finally,
after facing the bitterness of becoming a defenceless victim, Alex rises from his ashes and
is able to be himself once again, in all his splendour and aggressiveness.
As pointed above, Alex is the narrator of the story, which starts with his
addressing the reader with “What’s it going to be then, eh?” (2000: 5). He uses this
question as a rhetorical device that draws the reader into his world. Alex does not give us
the chance of reading his story in a detached way. We are already by his side, sharing his
experiences. Thomas Elsaesser, in “Screen Violence: Emotional Structure and Ideological
Function in ‘A Clockwork Orange’” (1976), comments on Kubrick’s version of the film,
which also uses the first-person narrative with the cinematic device of “voice in off”:
[Alex] is (…) present by means of a first-person narrative, a sort of running commentary, in
which he confidentially and conspiratorially addresses the spectator in mock-heroic terms
such as ‘oh my brothers’ and ‘your humble narrator’. He is enlisting a subtle degree of
jovial complicity that overtly appears to acknowledge his dependence on the audience’s
approval, while also efficiently ensuring the reverse, namely their desire to be led in their
responses by his judgements and values. (idem: 179)
Both the film and the novel are structured in first-person narrative, and, therefore,
we can say that what Elsaesser claims is also true to Burgess’s work. Sisk (1997: 62) argues
that this device unites us the readers to Alex against the State. As the critic puts it, “[t]he
reader is elevated over the faceless bourgeois masses Alex despises, as if he or she were a
rare equal whom Alex judged worthy of hearing his story” (idem). Alex calls us “brothers”,
which indicates that he sees us as friends, or, at least, people who share his concerns.
The narrative is written in an argot Burgess baptised as “Nadsat”, which is a
suffix used in numbers in the Russian language, having the same meaning of the
English suffix “teen”, when used in numbers from thirteen to nineteen. At first, it is a
very strange language, which draws our attention to the otherness of Alex and his
values. But, after some pages, the reader finds no more trouble in understanding it.
Actually, at the end of the novel, the reader may even have acquired some of its terms.
As Burgess himself argued once, we are brainwashed by Alex’s language:
- 54 -
As the book was about brainwashing, it was appropriate that the text itself should be a
brainwashing device. The reader would be brainwashed into learning minimal Russian.
The novel was to be an exercise in linguistic programming, with the exoticisms gradually
clarified by context. I would resist to the limit any publisher’s demand that a glossary
be provided. A glossary would disrupt the programme and nullify the brainwashing.
(2002: 38)
We are taught a lesson in Alex’s language. However, we are also taught in his
values, for Nadsat, despite what some critics claim, does not mask the violence of
Alex’s deeds, it makes it more real, and, startlingly enough, attractive. Gareth S.
Farmer, in “Language, Dialect and Affectation of Violence in A Clockwork Orange” (in
Vernadakis & Woodroffe, 2003: 54), argues that we experience Alex’s violence in a
deeper level, since it becomes more real as we learn the codes of Nadsat. As we keep
reading the book, a new system of codes is configured in our minds, and our schematic
comprehension of reality is altered, relating linguistic beauty to aggression (idem: 61).
Nadsat conditions our perspective on reality. It romanticises violence, and attracts us to
Alex and his violent self.
Nadsat is also violent because of its origins. It is basically a mixture of English
with anglicised Russian words, the languages used by the two most important countries
of the Cold War. The clash between the U.S.A. and the U.S.S.R., which was not to
happen directly, takes place in the argot the protagonist uses. The English language
represents Western civilisation, which was usually equated with goodness. The presence
of Russian brings the idea of evil, since communist Russia was seen as a threat to the
Western way of life. Good and evil merge in Nadsat, following the Manichaean
perspective that one cannot exist without the other.
Nevertheless, there is more to Nadsat than Russian and standard English. The
argot is also informed by the cockney style of England with its rhyming slang. Cockney
culture brings a character of lawlessness to the forefront, and, therefore, of opposition to
the State. Shakespeare also plays a part in the dialect. The fact that it is imbued with
Shakespearean terms raises it to the level of poetry. This artistic nature gives a superior
air to the argot, and indirectly to its speakers. The language is once again formed of
opposites: the coarseness of cockney English and the artistry of Shakespeare’s
language. Emmanuel Vernadakis and Graham Woodroffe, in “Portraits of the Artist in A
Clockwork Orange”, comment that:
- 55 -
[w]hile one idiom makes Alex a child of Shakespeare and the King James Bible, bestowing
upon him nobility, the other, a space-age argot of the gutter and the gang, roots him in the
lower strata of the social hierarchy. Alex’s idiolect, then, is an alloy forged of trends that
are at opposite ends of the linguistic spectrum. (idem: 226)
This complexity, its ambiguity, is what makes Nadsat so authentic and so
human. Like the human spirit, it is paradoxical and full of conflicting elements. It is
simultaneously noble and strange.
The strangeness of the argot points to alienation. Stinson (1991: 56) argues that
it gives Alex and his fellow gang members a feeling of otherness. This marked
difference enables conscious Nadsat speakers, such as Alex, to see themselves as unique
people, since it makes them aware that theirs is a different self. Thus, it makes them
“regard other groups just as ‘other’, utterly alien, in no way like the self” (idem).
Sam Johnson, in “‘What’s it going to be then, eh?’ Deciphering Adolescent
Violence and Adult Corruption in A Clockwork Orange” (in Vernadakis & Woodroffe,
2003: 33), on the other hand, claims that Nadsat brings a sense of belonging. It is a
sense, though, of belonging to an exclusive group, such as a clan. It marks the
difference from those outside of the gang and gives a feeling of union to those who
understand it, demarcating the limits between “us” and “them” (idem). Consequently,
Nadsat gives its speakers a greater awareness of their selves and of their being, also
providing them with the power of self-determination.
We have argued above that as we, the readers, learn Alex’s codes, we begin to
be a part of his gang. Sisk (1997: 63) actually claims that by narrating his story in
Nadsat, Alex is treating us as if we were former droogs
11
. The critic explains that “the
implied audience is made up of people who have been as violent as Alex” (idem). It is
true that the actual audience has not indulged in such perverse deeds, but, according to
Burgess himself, the difference between the implied and the actual reader is that the
former has acted violently, while the latter has only had the impulses to do so (apud
idem). Through the language and Alex’s narrative, we are able to manifest, at least
mentally, our violent instincts, as we share in the cruelty of the protagonist.
The experience of reading A Clockwork Orange provides us with a deeper
awareness of our own selves, albeit their darkest part. Geoffrey Aggeler, in “‘Humans
are Russians’: A Clockwork Orange and the Russian Tradition” (in Vernadakis &
Woodroffe, 2003: 89), argues that Burgess’s novel is a powerful affirmation of the self.
11
“Droog” or “droogie” is the word Alex uses to refer to his gang members.
- 56 -
The critic also explains that it is exactly this sense of self that cannot be permitted in
utopian societies (idem: 84). As pointed out before, Burgess deals with opposing
energies, which, in his view, create and sustain life. The novelist sees the self as a
compound of good and evil. A utopian society cannot allow evil elements in it, which,
in turn, implies that a complete self cannot exist.
Dystopian literature, as argued above, extrapolates utopian tendencies and
perspectives. Burgess exposes the utopian view of the self in a materialised
representation of evil: Alex is vicious because the self is inimical to utopia. In the words
of the protagonist, “badness is of the self (…). But the not-self cannot have the bad,
meaning they of the government and the judges and the schools cannot allow the bad
because they cannot allow the self” (Burgess, 2000: 34). Re-contextualising Alex’s
words, we can say that utopias cannot allow the self because they cannot allow the bad.
The self has to be controlled if utopia is to exist. A Clockwork Orange touches
the main technique that is used to exert such control: conditioning. In the novel, it is
presented in the form of the Ludovico Technique. After it is applied, the protagonist is
rendered incapable of acting violently. This, in turn, is an indirect attack on Alex’s self,
since violence is part of its essence. The technique is based on behaviourist principles,
mainly on Skinnerian ones. It results in a complete subjection of the individual who
becomes, in Foucauldian terms, automatically docile.
The laying bare of such a technique is what makes A Clockwork Orange a
dystopian novel. Had the State simply imprisoned Alex, the novel would not be a
dystopia at all, as Sisk argues (1997: 72). The conditioning method, which aims at
preventing the protagonist from doing undesirable social actions, robs him of his free
will, transforming him into a robotised being, incapable of moral choice. The technique
exposes the totalitarian tendency contained in arrant utopianism. Burgess’s anti-utopian
stance is made clear by depicting the Ludovico Technique as more evil than Alex. A
deeper analysis of Alex before and after the application of such a method will thus help
us grasp Burgess’s anti-utopianism.
4.2. The Danger of Freedom
Alex is a fifteen-year-old boy, whose main interests are beating people up,
having sex even if it has to be imposed on a woman, and listening to classical
- 57 -
composers, such as Beethoven. He is an outsider, who sees himself as superior to his
fellow men, since he is committed to life, differently from the dull masses of people
who simply exist in his town.
In a way, Alex is an alter ego of Anthony Burgess. Roger Lewis, in the
biography Anthony Burgess (2002: 116), argues that the novelist’s main creative energy
was anger. The biographer argues that Burgess is like Alex in his use of feelings such as
anger and resentment in a perversely creative way (idem: 64). Lewis affirms that the
author has always been a sort of misanthrope, someone who never really enjoyed the
company of other people, who always conceived of others as a potential threat (idem:
25). His artistry could be seen as an attempt at imposing his own order on reality, i.e. an
attempt at controlling his environment and the people around him.
This feeling of alienation was further enhanced by the fact of his being natural of
Manchester. As Stinson (1991: 4) explains, there has always been some sort of
discrimination between southern and northern Englishmen. People from the south were
considered polite and cultured, whereas those from the north were usually viewed simply
as coarse and ignorant workers. Part of his feeling of being an outcast also stems from the
fact that he was a Catholic in a Protestant country. Burgess believed the Protestant church
was responsible for transforming England into the dull place it had become.
Burgess held the opinion that apathy, i.e. moral neutrality, was the great all-
pervasive problem of post-war Britain (idem: 63). His stance against dullness was what
motivated him to behave and write angrily, and also to defy rules. Lewis tells us that
Burgess was not the kind of person who would obey or respect manners and codes
(2002: 126). He despised any form of bureaucratic control, which led him once to
describe himself as an anarchist (Cullinan, 1973:157). His disregard for the State
informed his opinion that “[a]ll governments are evil” (idem: 155).
For Burgess, control should belong to the individual. Each one of us should use
our own will to generate order in our lives. In his view, the ultimate controller is the
artist, since he believed “[t]he fundamental purpose of any work of art is to impose
order on the chaos of life” (apud Lewis, 2002: 83). Burgess sees art and creativity as a
weapon against external control. As it is dynamic, it also goes against passivity. The
artist, thus, is a creator of order and life.
Alex is the implied writer of the novel, and, therefore, an artist. His linguistic
inventiveness attracts us to him. Like Burgess, the protagonist is very fond of language
and indulges in creating words. He is a Nadsat speaker, an argot that confers him with
- 58 -
artistry and nobility. John J. Tilton (apud Sisk, 1997: 60) argues that “[h]is narration has the
quality of a lyric poem”. Alex is a poet, who is trying to impose his own order on reality.
His relation to art and his strong sense of self is enhanced by his enjoyment of
classical music, especially Beethoven. Burgess was also a musician, who esteemed
Beethoven probably above all other composers. The author wrote a novel called Napoleon
Symphony (first published in 1974), which is based on Beethoven’s Eroica, a symphony
he had started writing in praise of Napoleon. Aggeler (1979: 208) explains that the novel
is in fact a portrait of the classical composer aforesaid, “a defiant heroic assertion of his
willpower and freedom as an artist”. Alex’s ecstatic admiration for Beethoven’s music
points to a parallel that can be drawn between the self of the composer and that of the
protagonist – both have a strong sense of their existence, and immense willpower.
In another novel, A Vision of Battlements (firstly published in 1965), Burgess
speaks through the mouth of the protagonist, Richard Ennis, explaining that Beethoven
“had absolutely no respect for authority. He was independent, fearless, alone, no base
crawler (…)” (apud Stinson, 1991: 85). Alex fits this description perfectly. He is
committed to his own freedom, and fears no one.
Nevertheless, disregard of authority is exactly what cannot be allowed in utopian
societies. Alex’s name is suggestive of the impossibility of citizens like him to exist in
utopias. Burgess (1978: 95) explains that one of the meanings of the name of the
protagonist is “without a law”. However, this is not the only one, there being many
layers to his name:
The name of the antihero is Alex, short for Alexander, which means “defender of men”.
Alex has other connotations – a lex: a law (unto himself); a lex(is): a vocabulary (of his
own); a (Greek) lex: without a law. (…) Alex
12
is a rich and noble name, and I intended its
possessor to be sympathetic, pitiable, and insidiously identifiable with us, as opposed to
them. (idem)
Alex is the defender of men in that his is a story in which the essence of
humankind, i.e. free will, is defended. The pain caused by the suppression of his self is a
powerful testimony in favour of the human being. He defends men against the heavy
laws of the State, by building his own laws. Thus, he can be an outlaw as it regards
society, and a law unto himself. His linguistic prowess shows that he has a vocabulary
12
Emphasis of the author.
- 59 -
of his own, as Burgess explains. Not only is Alex noble, but he is also completely
identifiable with us.
The protagonist defines his humanity with the darker side of his personality. As
Fulkerson (apud Sisk, 1997: 60) argues, the character is an artist whose “main creative
medium is violence”. His self is expressed through his violent deeds, which put him in
direct opposition to the State. It is true that Alex is politically innocent – he does not fight
against the government. Nevertheless, he shows he is conscious that the authority of the
State is questioned when he addresses the reader with the following rhetorical question:
“[a]nd is not our modern history, my brothers, the story of brave malenky
13
selves
fighting these big machines? I am serious with you, brothers, over this” (Burgess, 2000:
34). He is a brave self, who fights for control over his own life, as opposed to State
control.
Like the Teddy Boys of the 1950’s, or the Mods and Rockers of the 1960’s, Alex
is opposed to the dullness the State has forced on the citizenry. The world which his
fellow men inhabit, rather than live, is homogeneous. There are laws that require every
adult to work, just like automatons. Every flat has a TV set, which further enhances the
passivity of the citizens. It is a grey world – there is no black or white, no evil or
goodness. In a world like that, one might ask oneself if there is any reason to exist at all.
Such a passive existence is only made tolerable by things that generate energy,
which in A Clockwork Orange are sex, drugs and violence. Alex takes a stance against
this institutionalised dullness by indulging in these three elements, but mostly in the last
one. However, the liberalism with which the government deals with the offences aforesaid
ends up by generating disappointment and fear in the populace. There is, then, a transition
in society: the need for tougher laws arises, and the government starts enforcing them; the
streets have to be made safer for the passive citizen, and, therefore, the unproductive or
disruptive members of society must have their freedom encroached. Burgess shows how
easily a disappointed populace may trade off its freedom for stability and safety.
Like the society depicted in the novel, Alex is also in transition. He is
experiencing the transitory age of adolescence. Johnson (in Vernadakis & Woodroffe,
2003: 29) explains that this threshold state is marked by a crisis of identity, which sets
the task of reconstituting one’s own self. He proceeds, arguing that along with this crisis
13
“Malenky” means “little” in Nadsat.
- 60 -
the adolescent has to renegotiate and define his role in society. It is a time marked by
the need to assert one’s own existence.
Alex defines his existence by imposing his own order on the world. He does so,
however, differently from what is expected from good citizens – he uses the destructive
means of violence. For Burgess, destruction and creation are intermingled in the young
(Burgess, 1998: ix). Both stem from the same origin, the necessity to assert one’s own
existence. Burgess says that, in the case of the young, destruction becomes a substitute for
creation, since their energy “has to be expressed through aggression because it has not yet
been able to subdue itself through creation” (idem). Alex is the teenager who sees the
adult world as inimical, and, therefore, has to impose himself through aggression.
As argued above, Alex is an artist whose main medium of expression is violence.
The protagonist describes the battle scenes as if fighting were dancing. He does not go
berserk destroying everything that crosses his path. There is order in his use of violence –
it is almost choreographed, which gives it a ballet-like quality. This can be seen in the
passage in which Alex and his droogies are fighting a rival gang in chapter two: “(…) I
for my own part had a fine starry horrorshow
14
cut-throat britva
15
which, at that time, I
could flash and shine artistic” (Burgess, 2000: 16). He is an aesthete, who observes the
principle of art for art’s sake, which, in his view, is violence for violence’s sake.
Alex’s acts are motivated by “disinterested” principles (Vernadakis and
Woodroffe, 2003: 224). He does not act violently because of money, but, like an artist,
he does it out of pleasure. In an often-quoted passage from chapter four of the first part,
Alex explains his perspective on violence. He acknowledges that what he does is bad.
He also questions the so-called cause-effect law – which is typically deterministic – by
arguing people should not look for the causes of evil. At the end of his explanation, we
can perceive the self-indulging characteristic of the artist:
But, brothers, this biting of their toe-nails over what is the cause of badness is what turns
me into a fine laughing malchick
16
. They don’t go into the cause of goodness
17
, so why the
other shop? If lewdies
18
are good that’s because they like it, and I wouldn’t ever interfere
with their pleasures, and so of the other shop. And I was patronizing the other shop. (…)
But what I do I do because I like to do. (Burgess, 2000: 34)
14
“Horrorshow” means “good” or “well” in Nadsat.
15
“Britva” means “knife” in Nadsat.
16
“Malchick” means “boy” in Nadsat.
17
Emphasis of the author.
18
“Lewdies” means “people” in Nadsat.
- 61 -
Violence, beauty and pleasure are linked in Alex’s mind. His shocking deeds are
actually imbued with style and finesse. Style is actually a very important point for Alex.
His clothes are fashionable, and he tries to keep them clean and tidy. There are instances
when he criticises Dim, a member of his gang, for looking sloppy. In various other parts,
Alex imagines himself indulging in violence, wearing flashy and fashionable clothes, like,
for instance, when he is reading the Bible and fancies himself beating Christ up, dressed
in “the heighth
19
of Roman fashion” (idem: 64). Another aspect that shows his finesse is
his choice of weapons. Fulkerson (apud Sisk, 1997: 60) argues that his choice for a knife
is stylish when contrasted with clumsier weapons such as Dim’s bicycle chain.
Alex’s artistry is shown through his admiration of and concern with beauty, and
also through his linguistic prowess, as already discussed. Beauty and language become
one with violence. Recompense does not matter, only the pleasure of creating and
imposing his own order on reality. John J. Tilton (apud idem) argues that “[s]elf-
expression and self-assertion are [Alex’s] fundamental attitudes, sufficient unto
themselves as long as he is able to impose upon the flux and variety of human
experience his own control and order”. Brutality and violence are not simply art for Alex,
they are actually his idea of utopia (Vernadakis and Woodroffe, 2003: 222). They
establish the order in his perfect sinister world.
However, his imaginary world is at odds with the traditional utopia. It is
important to point out that Alex is actually an exaggeration or a caricature of evil
because this is the way a utopian society would paint someone who has too great a
sense of self. Aggeler (in idem: 84) argues that the utopian tradition has always
attempted to demystify the self. It stretches back to Plato’s Republic, in which the self is
well-ordered and subordinated to the State (idem).
Alex cannot be a citizen of a utopia. For him to be a part of it, he has to let go of
his self and conform to the social rule. This is not his will, though, and, therefore, he has
to be made into accepting it. Conditioning, then, takes place in the story.
4.3. Humanity Lost
We have shown above that Burgess sees conditioning differently from
education, since the latter allows free will, while the former does not. However, when
19
The edition we use has the word “heighth” instead of “height”. We do not know if this was a mistake of
the publisher or if it was intended by the author himself.
- 62 -
education is referred to in A Clockwork Orange, it is related to either oppression or
uselessness. Alex calls his school a “great seat of gloopy
20
useless learning” (Burgess,
2000: 30) and constantly plays truant. His first victim is a “schoolmaster type veck
21
”
(idem: 8) who has his books torn by the gang and is subsequently beaten up, a brutal act
that is referred to as a “lesson” (idem: 9). Alex “teaches” lessons in violence to many
people throughout the story: he has taught his parents not to disturb him, the two allegedly
ten-year-old girls he brings to his home do not go to school but are educated in sex, and
he kills a cellmate in prison when he is teaching a lesson on how to behave properly. In
this novel, education is intrinsically bound to violence.
The Ludovico Technique is not different. Not only is it a treatment against
violent impulses, but it consists on the presentation of violent scenes, and also violates
Alex’s self. This is the conditioning method used to educate the protagonist in proper
moral conduct. Its aim is to transform Alex into a good-doer. The technique, however,
ends up by robbing him of his free will.
It follows the behaviourist method of the conditioned reflex, first shown by Ivan
Pavlov. Pavlov (1960) explains that he uses the Cartesian concept of reflex, which works
according to the law of cause and effect: a stimulus falls on a receptor, subsequently
generating a response (idem: 7). Skinner (1965: 53) says that the conditioned reflex works
with stimulus substitution: “[a] previously neutral stimulus acquires the power to elicit a
response which was originally elicited by another stimulus. The change occurs when the
neutral stimulus is followed or “reinforced” by the effective stimulus”. In short, it
associates a certain stimulus with a reflex it does not generate.
This is demonstrated in Pavlov’s famous experiment with the dog. As the dog
receives its food (stimulus), it naturally salivates (response). Pavlov, then, started
blowing a whistle (neutral stimulus) some moments before giving the food (which
worked as the reinforcement). After a given number of repetitions, the sound became
intrinsically associated with the food, and, every time Pavlov blew the whistle, the dog
would salivate as if the food had been served. The repetition of the associative process
is of ultimate importance to condition a reflex, since it fixes the response in the cortex
of the subject (Pavlov, 1960: 88). Thus, the subject is led to respond automatically to
the particular stimulus used in the experiment.
20
“Gloopy” means “stupid” in Nadsat.
21
“Veck” means “person” in Nadsat.
- 63 -
The Ludovico Technique follows the same rationale. Firstly, Alex is given an
injection before each session. Secondly, he is taken to a room with a cinema screen,
and tied to a chair. His head is also fixed to the chair, and his eyes are opened by a
device which prevents him from shutting them. Consequently, he is unable to avoid
seeing the images that are flashed on the screen. Thirdly, scenes of extreme violence
are projected, and Alex is forced to see all of them. During the session, the substance
that is previously injected starts working on his body, providing him with strong
feelings of sickness. Subsequently, Alex ends up by associating such feelings to the
violence displayed on the screen.
With the process being overly repeated (two sessions a day during two weeks), the
association is carried to its full: violence becomes intrinsically bound with feelings of
distress in his mind. If he conceives of any violent idea, he instantly feels sick. In order to
ease the nausea, he has to resort to goodness, i.e. he has to do a good deed, which erases
the idea he has conceived. Dr. Brodsky, the psychologist in charge of the treatment,
explains its effect: “Our subject is (…) impelled towards the good by, paradoxically,
being impelled towards evil. The intention to act violently is accompanied by strong
feelings of physical distress. To counter these the subject has to switch to a diametrically
opposed attitude” (Burgess, 2000: 99).
This is demonstrated when Alex, standing on a stage, and being watched by an
audience, is attacked by an actor. Not only is he incapable of fighting back due to the
nausea caused by the display of violence, but he also has to do something good in order
to stop such a feeling. He pathetically licks the boots of the actor in an attempt to ease
his sickness. Alex is, thus, rendered incapable of acting violently, and turned into a
good, peace-loving citizen, who can abide by the moral values of his society. He
becomes a true Christian, to use Dr. Brodsky’s words.
The Ludovico Technique is conceived of as a treatment to cure evil. However,
the technique can also be seen as an educational method. It teaches Alex, in a very
radical and authoritarian way, moral concepts he does not hold before he is subjected to
it. This educative character is shown when Dr. Branom, an assistant to Dr. Brodsky,
converses with Alex after the first session. The protagonist complains about his being
sick, arguing that the session was horrible. Dr. Branom answers saying that “[v]iolence
is a very horrible thing. That’s what you’re learning now” (idem: 85). The word
learning implies education. But this is a sort of education that violates the individual.
- 64 -
Alex learns his lesson well, and his former self, that which threatens the power of the
State, is prevented from being expressed.
The method resembles the metaphor that stands for the system of education in
Plato’s myth of the cave. Vernadakis and Woodroffe (in Vernadakis and Woodroffe,
2003: 231) claim that “[t]he way a projector works in a darkened room is not unlike the
way the representation of Forms (or Ideas) is described by Plato”. In the platonic text,
objects are projected on the walls of the cave. Burgess places Alex in a cinema room,
and the latter’s education is carried out through the projection of films on the screen.
The metaphor is the same: truth is introduced through representations.
As shown in a previous chapter, the cave becomes the school and the bonfire is
the device through which the philosopher can transmit his ideology. In the modern
world, science has become the light and the scientist the authority. A Clockwork Orange
presents us with a method of education based on scientific views. Dr. Brodsky and Dr.
Branom, along with the Minister of the Interior, play the same role of the philosopher in
the platonic myth.
Trevor J. Saunders, in “Plato’s Clockwork Orange” (1976), argues that the
Minister’s general approach to violence is “in fundamental agreement with Plato”
(idem: 114). He also says that both emphasise results, as they want to produce people
who abide by the law (idem). Those three figures – the philosopher, the Minister, and
the scientists – are similar in that they use a method that coerces the individual to act
according to what they define as appropriate. Like the utopist, they devise codes of
behaviour, and create mechanisms to ensure that they are followed.
Commenting on the first film shown, Alex affirms that the scenes displayed
seem rather different from what he used to witness: “[i]t’s funny how the colours of the
like real world only seem really real when you viddy
22
them on the screen” (2000: 82).
One can argue that this passage reveals that the representations offered by the scientists
are completely removed from reality; they are far from the truth, since Alex cannot
compare them to his experience. Nonetheless, the protagonist argues that they seem
more real than reality itself, which confers them with truthfulness. Hence, they are
likely to be accepted as true, the same way as the shadows are in the cave.
It is important to point out that the films are chosen by the doctors who are in
charge of the treatment. In the myth, the Philosopher-King is responsible for
22
“Viddy” means “see” in Nadsat.
- 65 -
systematising the data collected outside the cave. His is also the duty to represent the
truth to his pupils, something he does according to his perspective. Plato and Burgess
converge once more: the representations of reality are informed with the views, and,
consequently with the ideology, of those who control the processes.
Nevertheless, in Burgess’s novel there is a resort to induced feelings. The
sickness that the injected substance produces is a powerful element in Alex’s
conditioning. His body learns how to behave according to what the scientists demand.
Thus, even though violence remains as the essence of Alex’s personality, it can never be
expressed. The use of such features conditions the subject more thoroughly, and
strengthens the effects of the treatment. Alex cannot help but act according to the moral
values the Ludovico Technique has taught him.
It is not only Alex who watches the films, though, but also the psychologists who
are in charge of the treatment. They do not watch the films only during the treatment, but,
certainly, also before it, in order to choose the most appropriate snippets. Neither Dr.
Brodsky nor Dr. Branom react the way Alex is taught to do. Dr. Brodsky actually appears
to be relishing in Alex’s despair, which is shown in the following passages:
‘I want to be sick. Please let me be sick. Please bring me something for me to sick into’.
But this Dr. Brodsky called back:
‘Imagination only. You’ve nothing to worry about. Next film coming up’. That was perhaps
meant to be a joke, for I heard a like smeck
23
coming from the dark.
(…)
The pains I felt now in my belly and the headache and the thirst were terrible, and they all
seemed to be coming out of the screen. So I creeched
24
:
‘Stop the film! Please, please stop it! I can’t stand any more’. And then the goloss
25
of this
Dr. Brodsky said:
‘Stop it? Stop it
26
, did you say? Why, we’ve hardly started’. And he and the others smecked
quite loud. (idem: 83-84)
This is a point most critics usually miss: the psychologists are not affected by
violence the way Alex is led to be. This fact seems to suggest that a certain dose of
violence is part of existence, that it is customary, as it does not sicken the doctors. The
reaction of the doctors also lays bare the anti-natural and inhuman character of the
response the protagonist is forced to give when faced with the possibility of aggression.
23
“Smeck” means “laugh” in Nadsat.
24
“Creech” means “scream” in Nadsat.
25
“Goloss” means “voice” in Nadsat.
26
Emphasis of the author.
- 66 -
The injected substance is what makes him sicken, not violence per se, as he needs it in
order to defend himself. His new reaction is a fabrication, it does not come authentically
from his own self. Alex becomes a dehumanised human being, as his self is constrained
by the effects of the technique.
During the presentation of Alex as a new individual, in chapter seven of the
second part, the prison chaplain, who is present at the audience, raises the subject of free
will. His is Burgess’s voice, and his comments clearly reveal the dilemma of A
Clockwork Orange:
‘Choice’, rumbled a rich deep goloss. I viddied it belonged to the prison charlie
27
. ‘He has
no real choice, has he? Self-interest, fear of physical pain, drove him to that grotesque act
of self-abasement. Its insincerity was clearly to be seen. He ceases to be a wrongdoer. He
ceases also to be a creature capable of moral choice’. (idem: 99)
Dr. Brodsky answers by explaining that freedom is merely a subtlety. He argues
that results are what matter (idem). Like Skinner, the State disregards free will. For the
government, goodness is not to be chosen. Instead, it is equated with expedient
behaviour. The Ludovico Technique produces an individual that is good in the eyes of
the State: one devoid of the ability of doing evil because he cannot choose to do so.
The State is doing greater wrong to Alex, though. It is no surprise that the
protagonist calls the cinema room where the treatment takes place as “sinny” (idem: 79).
Sin has been institutionalised through the cruelty of the Ludovico Technique. Burgess
believes that “[e]vil is at its most spectacular when it enjoys turning a living soul into a
manipulable object” (1978: 57). Trying to eliminate the presence of evil in society by
preventing one from choosing its paths is thus shown as the worst of sins.
Burgess believes goodness cannot be without evil. If the possibility of choosing
the latter is eradicated, the existence of the former is neutralised. This is in key with
Augustinian philosophy, which refers to the paradox of free will: the human being can
only do good if he chooses goodness as opposed to evil; consequently, for man to be
good he has to be able to contemplate its opposite. Burgess insists that “it is preferable
to have a world of violence undertaken in full awareness – violence chosen as an act of
will – than a world conditioned to be good or harmless” (apud Stinson, 1991: 58). The
27
“Charlie” is the word Alex uses to refer to the prison Chaplain.
- 67 -
government in the novel is thus eradicating both evil and good by destroying Alex’s
ability of exercising his will freely.
Making use of Paul Russell’s theory (in Kane ed., 2002), which was presented
before, we can say that Burgess’s concern is with the first level of freedom, the close-
range level. It refers to freedom of action, i.e. one is free when one is able to act according
to one’s own judgements. Alex’s will does not change; his motivations are still the same
after the treatment is effected. He still has violent impulses, but his freedom of putting
such thoughts into action is hampered. The government does not change his evil self, but
it prevents him from acting according to his own will.
Nonetheless, when Alex leaves State custody, he has to face a world which is
nothing but evil. The protagonist has become a helpless person; he cannot defend
himself by using the same violence he sees around him, and, thus, becomes the victim.
This is shown in various instances in the third part of the novel. In the streets of his city,
different people, ranging from some of his past victims to former gang members or even
previous enemies, attack him. He is beaten up, and cannot afford self-defence. The State
has not only destroyed his ability of doing wrong to other people, but his very capability
of protecting his own existence. Once again, it seems Burgess is suggesting violence is
a necessary element in life.
After a series of assaults, Alex ends up at the house of F. Alexander, a writer
who opposes the government and its conditioning techniques. To the protagonist’s
surprise, the writer is one of his former victims, but, fortunately, F. Alexander does not
recognise the hoodlum at first. F. Alexander is the author of a book called A Clockwork
Orange, which helps elucidate the theme of the homonymous novel.
Alex reads a passage of F. Alexander’s manuscript when he breaks into the
latter’s house with his gang, an event that takes place in the second chapter in the first
part of the novel. From it, Alex reads the following: “‘[t]he attempt to impose upon
man, a creature of growth and capable of sweetness, (…) laws and conditions
appropriate to a mechanical creation, against this I raise my sword-pen’” (Burgess,
2000: 21). When he finds himself in Alexander’s home once more, he reads passages of
the finished work, which he describes as follows:
- 68 -
It seemed written in a very bezoomny
28
like style, full of Ah and Oh and that cal
29
, but
what seemed to come out of it was that all lewdies nowadays were being turned into
machines and that they were really – you and me and him and kiss-my-sharries
30
– more
like a natural growth like a fruit. (idem: 124)
The book within the book, thus, shows us what the novel is all about. Man
cannot be turned into a machine. Freedom of choice, being the essence of humanity, has
to be protected against all odds.
F. Alexander is an advocate of libertarianism who sees in Alex the possibility of
fighting the government by denouncing the evil it has brought upon the teenager. As the
story progresses, however, the writer recognises Alex as one of the gang members who
had invaded that same house and raped his wife, which eventually caused her to die.
Having arrived at such a conclusion, F. Alexander and a group of friends decide to use
Alex as a martyr for the cause of liberty.
The writer uses a side effect of the treatment in order to torture the protagonist.
Alex cannot indulge in the pleasure of listening to classical music anymore. As this kind
of music is intrinsically linked with his violent impulses, and even inspires him to act in
a nasty way, he cannot enjoy it any longer, for he feels sick, due to the thoughts it brings
him. Alex is forced by F. Alexander to listen to a symphony, which brings him the
feeling of sickness. He begs them to turn the stereo off, but is simply ignored. He pleads
for mercy, like a true Christian, but his newly acquired morality is not enough to fight
back the evil world he experiences.
Alex finds himself in a situation from which there is no escape. He loses all his
humanity as he is rendered incapable of expressing his essence. He cannot act violently,
and, therefore, he cannot defend himself against the violence that naturally exists in
society. He cannot enjoy classical music anymore, as it also causes nausea. Both the
dark and the noble part of his personality are suppressed, and he is left with only one
alternative: suicide.
Alex’s attempt at suicide represents the killing of the self. His self cannot exist
any longer, not after the re-education carried out by the Ludovico Technique. As
exposed before, this conditioning technique is an extrapolation of methods of education
carried out in utopias, mainly in Plato’s Republic, demonstrated in the myth of the cave.
28
“Bezoomny” means “crazy” in Nadsat.
29
“Cal” means “shit” in Nadsat.
30
“Sharries” means “arse” in Nadsat. The expression in the passage above refers to the offensive
expression “kiss my arse”.
- 69 -
Plato stops before showing the result, though – he only discusses the system. Burgess,
on the other hand, shows the final effects of a utopian system of education: the
suppression of the self. Thus, the dystopian perspective is made clear: Burgess exposes
utopian education as a failure.
4.4. Alex like Groweth up
31
Like the Phoenix, Alex rises from his own ashes. Robert K. Morris, in The
Consolations of Ambiguity: an Essay on the Novels of Anthony Burgess (1971: 73),
argues that Alex’s failed attempt at killing himself “becomes the last desperate exertion of
a murdered will and, paradoxically, the means to its resurrection”. In the sixth chapter of
the third part, or the twentieth chapter, Alex wakes up in a hospital ward, and notices that
the feelings of nausea and sickness do not follow his violent thoughts any longer.
Worried with the backlash of public opinion, the government decides to restore
Alex’s former self. We read that the government has been denigrated by Alex’s attempt
at suicide, and, therefore, it needs to use the protagonist once more for political
propaganda. The Minister of the Interior hopes to have Alex as an ally, which causes the
government not only to give the narrator the best of medical treatments, but also to offer
a good job. Alex is given a present, a new stereo, and chooses Beethoven’s Ninth
Symphony to be played. The music fills him with pleasure and nasty thoughts, and he
finishes the chapter thus:
Oh, it was gorgeosity
32
and yumyumyum
33
. When it came to the Scherzo I could viddy
myself very clear running and running on like very light and mysterious nogas
34
, carving the
whole litso
35
of the creeching world with my cut-throat britva. And there was the slow
movement and the lovely last singing movement still to come. I was cured all right. (Burgess,
2000: 139)
We can see, from Alex’s description of his feelings, that the sickness the
Ludovico Technique had previously associated with violence is no more. Alex can
resume his former self, and act accordingly. This, however, is not the end of the story.
31
This is the sentence Alex says when he tells us he has grown up.
32
“Gorgeosity” means “beauty” in Nadsat.
33
“Yumyumyum” stands for something which is considered “very good” in Nadsat.
34
“Nogas” means “feet” in Nadsat.
35
“Litso” means “face” in Nadsat.
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Here we have one of the biggest controversies around Burgess’s A Clockwork
Orange: that involving the suppression of the twenty-first chapter, or the seventh
chapter of the third part, from its American edition. In the final chapter of what came to
be known as the “world version”, Alex resigns a life of aggression and changes his
ways. The American version does not contain this part, and the meaning Burgess
intended for his work is thus hampered.
Burgess (2002: 60) claims that the American editor, Eric Swenson, asked him to
cut the final chapter, as the novel would be more appropriate without it for the tough
American public
36
. Since the novelist needed the money, he compromised, and the
American edition came out with twenty chapters instead of twenty-one. Burgess
explains the affair in the second volume of his autobiography:
A Clockwork Orange was published in New York by W. W. Norton Inc. later in the year
[1963]. Eric Swenson, Norton’s vice-president insisted that the book lose its final chapter. I
had to accede to this lopping because I needed the advance, but I was not happy about it. I
had structured the work with some care. It was divided into three sections of seven chapters
each, the total figure being, in traditional arithmology, the symbol of human maturity. My
young narrator, the music-loving thug Alex, ends the story by growing up and renouncing
violence as a childish toy. This was the subject of the final chapter, and it was the capacity
of this character to accept change which, in my view, made the work into a genuine if brief
novel. But Swenson wanted only the reversible artificial change imposed by State
conditioning. He wished Alex to be a figure in a fable, not a novel. Alex ends Chapter 20
saying: ‘I was cured all right’, and he resumes joy in evil. The American and European
editions of the novel are thus essentially different. The tough tradition of American popular
fiction ousted what was termed British blandness. (idem)
36
Andrew Biswell, in “Editing and publishing A Clockwork Orange” (in Vernadakis and Woodroffe,
2003), argues that Burgess was actually in two minds whether to finish the novel with twenty or twenty-
one chapters. Biswell has analysed the 1961 typescript of the novel, which is part of the Burgess
collection at the Mills Memorial Library, in the McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario, and has come
across a revealing handwritten note at the end of the twentieth chapter. In this note Burgess says “Should
we end here? An optional “epilogue” follows” (apud idem: 22). Biswell shows that Burgess was not sure
about where to end the story, and claims that it might be read either as a twenty or a twenty-one-chapter
novel (idem: 25). In Biswell’s own words: “This internal evidence leads me to the tentative conclusion
that the twenty-first chapter was appended as an afterthought. Whether or not Burgess made the right
decision in adding an epilogue is a question that scholars and other cognoscenti will, no doubt, continue
to debate. But if, as critical readers, we attend to the ‘transparent intention’ of the 1961 typescript (to
borrow Eco’s phrase), then it is clear that the text leaves us free either to take the epilogue or to leave it”
(idem). The note on the typescript contradicts Burgess’s derogatory comments on the published American
edition, and makes Biswell’s conclusions become reasonable enough. It is not our intention, though, to
judge whether Burgess made the right decision by sticking to the twenty-one-chapter piece. We have
chosen this version because it was the first to be published (by Heinemann in 1962), and also because it is
the one which is known all over the world, except in the U.S.A.. Burgess’s insistent defence of the
twenty-first chapter as well as the meaning it brings to the story have also strengthened our position in
choosing the “world version”.
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With the novel containing only twenty chapters, the ending is radically different,
and, as Burgess says, it becomes a fable. There is no change in Alex in the American
version, and one may ask if the protagonist is not as conditioned by violence as he was
by the Ludovico Technique. If a man cannot act against his own impulses, then, he is
determined by them. This is what the American edition seems to imply, which goes
against Burgess’s clear defence of free will. In the twenty-first chapter, Alex is rendered
even nobler by his capacity to become a new person; he changes inwardly, a fact that
represents the exercise of his free will.
Elsaesser (1976: 194-195), commenting on Kubrick’s film, which follows the
American version of the novel, argues that it shows conformism, since Alex does
become an ally to the government at the end. Even if it is not total control, the State still
exerts its power over the young hoodlum. Considering Burgess’s despise of any kind of
government whatsoever, the complete twenty-one-chapter work is more in key with the
author’s position.
Rubin Rabinovitz, in “Mechanism vs. Organism: Anthony Burgess’ A
Clockwork Orange” (1978-79: 539), argues that Alex is more like us in the twenty-first
chapter, for he grows and learns with his experiences. According to the critic, if the
protagonist kept on indulging in his violent impulses, he would be seen in no other light
but as a threat to society, which is a very pessimistic view of humankind. By changing,
however, Alex follows the same steps of any human being, i.e. he matures. He reaches
adulthood, an aspect which is symbolised by the number of the final chapter. He grows,
and learns how to deal with life and reality in a new way.
Like F. Alexander, who represents a possible future of Alex (Ray, 1981: 484),
the protagonist becomes a writer of subversive literature. Alex is more than just the
narrator of the book we read: he can be said to be the writer, as he himself
acknowledges (Burgess, 2000: 132). Alex does not let go of his violence, though. He
simply redirects his aggressive energy and channels it into a new activity: writing. Sisk
(1997: 73) argues that “in exchanging the violence of the boot and the razor for the
violence of Nadsat, Alex the artist has merely changed his medium”. Alex changes the
way he expresses his anger, but it is still there, raging against the dull world that
surrounds him.
His story is told in the past tense, which implies he has already become a writer,
and is now taking a stance against an authoritative government that has wronged him.
His tale results from an epiphany brought by his adventures, and, as Sisk (idem: 75)
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puts it, it is “a didactic warning against State-sponsored conditioning”. He has become
sharper, for now he knows exactly who must be attacked, and he has the authority of his
experience to aid him.
The protagonist is now able to look on his past and evaluate it. He is also able to
plan for the future, and thinks of having a baby. This baby, as Ray (1981: 486) suggests,
represents Alex’s own past. The narrator’s perspective on his prospective offspring is rather
bleak though, for he believes his son will commit the same mistakes he has committed:
But then I knew he [Alex’s prospective son] would not understand or would not want to
understand at all and would do all the veshches
37
I had done, yes perhaps even killing some
poor starry forella
38
surrounded with mewing kots
39
and koshkas
40
, and I would not be able
to really stop him. And nor would he able to stop his own son, brothers. And so it would
itty on to like the end of the world, round and round and round (…). (Burgess, 2000: 148)
Burgess portrays Alex the adult as a melancholic person, who sees human life as
a series of repetitive actions. Alex’s superiority, however, resides in the fact that he is
able to accept that one has the right to live through experiences, a right that can only be
exercised if there is free will. He does not believe his son will act differently from him,
but he does not show any intention in preventing his offspring from walking the path of
evil. He also acknowledges that violence is an intrinsic aspect of human nature, and that
it will always exist.
By thinking on his son, and, therefore, on his past, the protagonist concludes that
teenage is a mechanical period of life. Being young, as Alex sees it in the final chapter,
is like being an animal without control. Aggression is portrayed as being the primal
energy in the young, and, owing to this rationale, they are dominated by it:
No, it is not just like being an animal so much as being like one of these malenky toys you
viddy being sold in the streets, like little chellovecks
41
made out of tin and with a spring
inside and then a winding handle on the outside and you wind it up grrr grrr grrr and off it
itties
42
, like walking, O my brothers. But it itties in a straight line and bangs straight into
things bang bang and it cannot help what it is doing. Being young is like being one of these
malenky machines. (idem)
37
“Veshches” means “things” in Nadsat.
38
“Forella” means “woman” in Nadsat.
39
“Kot” means “male cat” in Nadsat.
40
“Koshka” is used to refer to “cat” in a general sense.
41
“Chelloveck” means “man” in Nadsat.
42
“Itty” means “go” in Nadsat.
- 73 -
One might ask oneself why Alex, after having given a lengthy account of his
teenage adventures would dismiss everything he has done before adulthood as a mere
mindless movement. Many critics use the passage transcribed above in order to claim
that Alex is a clockwork being during his adolescence. However, a very different
conclusion can be drawn from his discourse.
What might be seen as mechanical is Alex’s new acquired maturity. The character
simply repeats what most adults would say about teenagers, labelling them as clockwork
toys. Roberta Oliveira, in “Aos 40 anos, ‘Laranja Mecânica’ ainda é atual” (2002: 2),
argues that the last chapter brings the conclusion that adulthood transforms every man
into a clockwork orange. Oliveira’s text is about a production of the play that took place
in Rio de Janeiro in July of 2002. In this production, the protagonist finishes the play by
acknowledging that now he has become an adult, and, because of that, he must become a
mechanical human being who does what is expected from him in society.
Burgess is ambiguous about both Alex’s youth and adulthood. If Alex is
determined in his youth, then he becomes a freer person when he reaches maturity. If he
becomes determined in his maturity, then the impulsiveness of youth represents
freedom. The author, however, is a Manichee, which makes us conclude that Alex, and
the human being, is both determined and free, a conclusion that is in key with the theory
of compatibilism.
Rabinovitz (1978-79: 539) argues that the title itself points to the idea of
compatibilism. He explains that it evokes the notion of linearity and circularity.
According to the critic, the first aspect is related to determinism, which is portrayed by
the linear movement of a winding toy. The second aspect refers to free will, symbolised
by the organic fruit. Rabinovitz claims that Alex’s expecting his son to make the same
mistakes he has made also points to a circular character, implied by the repetitive
pattern of human growth. He finally states that “[f]or Alex, life has aspects both of
determinism and free will, line and circle, clockwork and orange” (idem).
As argued before, compatibilism conceives of man as determined by past and
nature, but also as free, due to his ability of deliberating and re-evaluating his reasons,
beliefs and values. Burgess paints a character who represents compatibilism. When
young, Alex is determined by his aggressive inner energy, but is free in his use of it,
which is orderly and artistic. When he reaches adulthood, his freedom is shown by his
reassessment of values, and further decision to change. He is also determined when
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adult, though, as we can see by his cliché perspective on adolescence, which might be
pointing to a lack of authenticity in the adult world.
Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange does not deal with the question whether
determinism or libertarianism are true. As Rabinovitz (idem) explains, “The growth of
Burgess’ heroes is often indicated by their willingness to accept life and the mixed bag
of contradictory values it offers”. For the novelist, man is both determined and free.
What Burgess stands against is the means used to achieve the end of utopianism.
Aggeler (1979: 180) argues that the real question that underlies the novel is: “can it
ever
43
be right to use any human being as a nonhuman means to achieve an end,
however noble or beneficient that end may be?” Burgess’s answer is no:
Hitler was, unfortunately, a human being, and if we could have countenanced the
conditioning of one human being we would have to accept it for all. Hitler was a great
nuisance, but history has known others disruptive enough to make the state’s fingers itch –
Christ, Luther, Bruno, even D. H. Lawrence. One has to be genuinely philosophical about
this, however much one has suffered. I don’t know how much free will man really
possesses (Wagner’s Hans Sachs said: Wir sind ein wenig frei – “we are a little free”) but I
do know that what little he seems to have is too precious to encroach on, however good the
intentions of the encroacher may be. (Burgess apud idem: 181)
Freedom, in spite of its potential at generating evil, has to be kept. Drawing on
the Manichaean mind of Burgess, if there is no evil, there can be no good. Free will is
what gives these two elements a possibility, therefore assuring the existence of the life-
generating tension.
Aggeler (idem: 215 – 6) explains that Burgess sees abstract ideals as “potential
avenues to moral idiocy”. Utopianism, being also an abstract ideal, cannot but be
despised by Burgess. Bernadete Pasold (1999: 108 – 9) believes that Burgess challenges
the utopian dream in A Clockwork Orange, as he “seems to question the value and
necessity of such key features of utopia as stability and peace. He seems to accept
human nature as it is, and violence as a necessary component of it because equated with
energy and vitality”. Individual freedom is dearer to Burgess than the dull sterile
stability of utopia. In the mind of the novelist, utopia can never be eutopia, for, without
evil, good can never be realised.
43
Emphasis of the author.
- 75 -
5. Education, Utopia and Free Will in the Macrocosm:
Brave New World
Historical fact: people stopped being human in 1913.
That was the year Henry Ford put his cars on rollers
and made his workers adopt the speed of the
assembly line.
(Jeffrey Eugenides)
5.1. Not so brave a new world
Brave New World, written by Aldous Huxley in 1931, and published in the
following year, describes a machine-like society that is set in a distant future, in which
citizens are mass-produced in the fashion of the assembly line. Huxley once argued that
his first intention was to have “a little fun pulling the leg of H. G. Wells” (apud
Bedford, 1975: 244), who was a great enthusiast of science, and believed in the
capabilities of the human race. Krishan Kumar, in “Science and Anti-Utopia: Aldous
Huxley and Brave New World” (1987), considers Wells the “most prominent apostle of
the scientific utopia” and argues that “any attack on the pretensions of science naturally
directed itself against Wells” (idem: 225). Huxley, however, does not only deal with the
Wellsian belief in science in this particular novel. He touches serious problems that
were part of the world he experienced, a place marked by contradictory factors.
Huxley lived in a Europe that had been crushed by the First World War, a
conflict that would leave deep scars on European society. The war was partly a
consequence of the search for external markets which led industrialised countries to
expand their economical boundaries. The combination of new techniques of industrial
management with the development of industrial machinery had provided the possibility
for mass-production of goods, which consequently increased the demand for new
markets. However, the interests of different countries were at stake, causing several
shocks that culminated in the War.
Despite the economic growth, the mechanisation of factories generated mass
unemployment and, consequently, social unrest. New ideologies, such as Communism
and Fascism, with their promises of better days, appealed greatly to unemployed
workers. Communism would gain momentum with the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 in
Russia, a historical event which would reconfigure the modern world. Soviet Russia
would become a bleak place, though, after Stalin came to power. The State would be
strengthened to a point in which those who opposed it would be brutally crushed.
Fascism, on the other hand, did not only hold the attention of the proletariat, but
also of many intellectuals. Huxley himself firstly welcomed the Fascist movement,
probably owing to the fact that he lived in Italy for a great part of the 1920’s (idem:
253). The rise of Fascism, along with Nazism, however, culminated in what has been
generally considered the bitterest conflict in History: the Second World War. The
excesses of this War, such as the holocaust, deeply impressed in our minds the horrors
man was capable of.
That was the time to denounce the dangerous potentialities contained in modern
ideologies. It was not the time for utopia, but for the turn to dystopia. Brave New World
is written during such a period, when the ghost of World War I had not still subsided,
and the prospect of World War II hanged in people’s minds. The novel becomes a
warning hinting at the logical development of forces acting in the society of the inter-
war period. Many of the features of the modern world are present in it, and are all
combined to form a utopian society, the World State.
We have argued before that utopian communities have axioms that inform their
practices. Huxley chooses stability as the axiom of the World State, a fact which is
symbolised by the expression “year of stability” (1965: 2). As shown above, the 1920’s
and the 1930’s were decades of instability, which caused the people to yarn for a stable
society. Huxley takes this premise and uses it to warn his contemporaries of the
unsavoury consequences implied by the newly formed ideologies that promised stability.
Each and every action taken by the government of Huxley’s utopia has in its
core the objective of assuring that the community is kept stable. The individual is
portrayed as a microcosm of society, and, consequently, the stability of each member of
the community is seen as key for the maintenance of the macrocosm.
Individual stability depends on the idea of attained desire. The populace is
educated to expect their fancies to be always granted. If desires are not satisfied, the
individual becomes unstable, for he is not taught to deal with wants. The State has full
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responsibility in fulfilling the desires of the citizens, which subsequently entails that if it
fails at providing them with the satisfaction of their needs, they will not only become
unstable, but may also question the very authority of the State. Bearing it in mind, the
World Controllers create a system in which the fancies of the populace can be granted
almost instantly.
The World State is thus a society predicated on a culture of hedonism. This
feature was taken from a visit Huxley paid to Los Angeles in 1926, when he witnessed a
civilisation where “Good Time had become equated with life itself” (Kumar, 1987:
246). This visit would profoundly influence his vision on the future of the world, which
he conceived as a place where the satisfaction of desire would take the leading role.
Brave New World extrapolates this perspective as it presents a society in which mind-
numbing pleasures dominate the populace.
Such pleasures are predominantly of a sensory nature, i.e. they are based on the
senses of the body. Pleasures of an abstract sort, such as reading or philosophy, demand
refinement, and, therefore, a longer period to take place. As immediate satisfaction is
the aim, it is more appropriate to encourage sensory pleasures. The senses of the
populace are stimulated by different devices, such as soma, a hallucinogenic drug, or the
“feelies”, a name which indicates a pun on the word “movies”, where the individual
does not only watch films, but also feels what the main characters of such films are
feeling. The tactile sense may be said to be the one which can be most concretely
grasped. Sex, which implies primarily an indulgence on this sense, becomes one of the
most important activities in the World State.
The government stimulates the citizenry to seek sexual pleasure, and
promiscuity is established as the norm. What it aims at is the intensification of pleasure,
enhancing the expenditure of libido. If not spent, this energy could become
aggressiveness or generate instability. Hence, promiscuity reinforces the stability of
people, and, in turn, that of the World State.
This practice also aims at hampering the development of personal ties. As each
individual is supposed to have sex with different people, intimacy does not evolve,
neither does the feeling of exclusiveness. The State has not simply abolished the family,
it has actually gone further, using sex as a tool with which to avoid the creation of
smaller groups. If the individual had a stronger sense of belonging to another group
different from the State, the power of the latter would be weakened.
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The practice of promiscuity does not imply disorder, though. In fact, it is even
used in community services that resemble religious gatherings. Huxley presents one of
these services in chapter five. After reciting rhymes in a ritual-like manner, and sipping
from a cup with soma, the participants sing the “Orgy-porgy” lines (Huxley, 1965: 65),
and subsequently begin an orgy on the floor, that will supposedly make all of them one.
Sex becomes a quasi-religious ritual, whose function is to generate unity among the
participants, and further strengthen their ties with the community, which is epitomised
in the saying “every one belongs to every one else”. The elevation of sex to the status of
religious element refers to the power of symbols in society; promiscuity has become a
symbol with which the populace can identify.
The symbolic character of religiosity confers authority to a given practice.
Therefore, religion plays an important role in the World State. It takes its cue from the
figure of Henry Ford, whose autobiography My life and Work (published originally in
1922) becomes the new Bible. Robert S. Baker, in Brave New World: History, Science,
and Dystopia (1990), explains that the choice of having Ford’s book as the new Bible
stems from the fact that it does not celebrate his personal life, but his social
productiveness, i.e. his work:
Ford’s autobiography is both an obvious and a subtle symbol of the hegemonic values of
[Mustapha] Mond’s World State. On the simplest level it is the bible of mass production,
the emblem of the Model T supplanting the Christian cross on its cover. But on the
subtler level, the book celebrates the automobile, not the autobiographical self; it
contains little personal information about Ford and thus it also reinforces the World
State’s aversion for personal identity, personal history, and any public references to
personal experience. (idem: 86)
Ford becomes God, and the Christian cross is replaced by the “golden T’s”, a
reference to Ford’s model T. This divine-like character of the American businessman is
epitomised in sayings such as “Ford’s in his flivver, (…) [a]ll’s well with the world”
(Huxley, 1965: 32), in the substitution of the word “Lord” for “Ford”, or in the
expression “Your Fordship”. The calendar of the World State carries the expression
A.F., meaning after Ford, which replaces the usual A.D., or Anno Domini. The cult
mentioned above pictures Ford as the divinity who gives meaning to the rites. During
the service, twelve participants – a number suggestive of the twelve apostles of Christ –
are supposed to leave their selves aside and become one, united with Ford, a surrogate-
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Christ. After reciting rhymes such as “Ford, we are twelve; oh, make us one/ Like drops
within the Social River;/ Oh, make us now together run/ As swiftly as thy shining
Flivver” (idem: 63), the participants drink from the cup of “strawberry ice-cream soma”,
a scene which certainly brings to mind Christ’s Last Supper.
Nonetheless, Ford is far from being simply a divine figure in the World State.
His ideas, known as “Fordism”, are used in engineering and managing the society of
Brave New World. Ford was an adept of “Taylorism”, also known as “scientific
management”. As Kumar (1987: 244) explains, this theory advocates the division of
difficult and long tasks into easier and quicker ones, which restricts each worker to deal
with a specific activity, and further accelerates the whole process. Fordism is “a
compound of ‘scientific management’ of men linked to the fullest mechanization of
tasks,” which “reduce[s] the human being to the status of an appendage of the machine”
(idem). The worker became a simple cog in the machinery of Ford’s factories.
Mass-production, however, is not applied only to goods, but also to people.
Huxley presents a society in which human beings are made, not born, in biological
factories following the fashion of Fordism. Every individual is bred in the laboratory,
and is further educated through processes of conditioning. They are created and raised
according to specifications, as if they were products to be used in the community. Man
is practically manufactured, as Tenley Williams (in Bloom, 1999) argues in the
following passage:
Like the assembly line credited to the apotheosized Ford, the Conditioning Centre produces
products – new human beings – that move, like automobiles in progressive stages of
completion, toward their designated place in society. In the Social Predestination Room
information is transferred ‘from test tube to bottle’ and the individual becomes a
commodity guaranteed to live up to expectations. (idem: 11)
In the World State, Fordism is applied to biological and human sciences. Kumar
(1987: 230) explains that the 1920’s and 1930’s were the apex of the “science and
society” movement in England. For the followers of this movement, wars,
unemployment and economic collapse were proofs of the inability of politicians at
dealing with the problems of the world. There was a belief that scientists would be able
to offer solutions to improve society by using scientific methods of research in order to
get to the cause of social problems.
- 80 -
Aldous Huxley was born into a family of scientists. His grandfather Thomas
Henry Huxley (1825-1895), had become famous for having defended Charles Darwin.
His brother, Julian Huxley (1887-1975), was also a man of science, who constantly
helped Aldous with scientific data in his novels. The author of Brave New World was
not himself a scientist, but he was very aware of scientific development in the early
twentieth century. As he was a man of letters he was able to judge science with eyes
different from those of the scientific intelligentsia. As a person who lived so close to
science, he learned not to disdain its power, which marked his difference from the
traditional literary intelligentsia.
Kumar points out that “Huxley was too knowledgeable about the world of
science to be so blind to the threat posed by the scientific hubris” (idem: 241). This
hubris is what the critic calls “scientism” (idem: 254), which he defines as “the
applications of science (…) in a particular social context and with a particular social
purpose”. Kumar claims that what held Huxley’s concern was exactly that, the use of
scientific methods in order to manage society, and, because of its potentialities, the
novelist entertained a fear of science (idem: 241). His fear moved him to unite Fordism
to science in Brave New World, so as to denounce the dangers of scientism.
An example of scientism in the novel is the use of eugenics. The science of
genetics is particularly advanced in the World State, and is applied to society in that it
enables the World Controllers to devise the biological characteristics of future citizens.
Babies are manufactured in laboratories, being labelled according to the social class
they are destined to be a part of. Foetuses are genetically manipulated in order to fit
different social roles, thus catering for the demands of the community, a process that
might be said to follow the “Principle of Specialisation”, which informs Plato’s
Republic. The motherly womb is replaced by the cold laboratory, where the first process
of social engineering occurs, that which we call genetic conditioning.
Following the utopian tradition firstly presented by Plato, Huxley creates a
society which is divided in classes. These castes are five, and are called “Alphas”,
“Betas”, “Gammas”, “Deltas” and “Epsilons”. Each of them receives the label of plus or
minus, which forms two sub-castes for each caste. On the top are the Alphas, who
represent the intellectual elite. They are the planners of society. Betas are usually
employed as technicians, and Gammas are mostly responsible for mechanical jobs.
Deltas and Epsilons are produced through the “Bokanovsky’s Process”, which generates
ninety-six identical twins from a single egg. Deltas possess little intellectual capacity,
- 81 -
and are employed in manual labour. Epsilons are semi-morons, and are in charge of the
simplest activities in a society.
However, not only the body is devised through scientific methods, but also the
identity of each individual. In the first paragraph of the novel, Huxley describes the
Central London Hatchery and Conditioning Centre, and presents the State’s motto
which hangs over the entrance: “Community, Identity, Stability” (1965: 1). Baker
(1990: 81) states that the sentence is arranged in such a way as to have the word
“identity” “within the bracketing embrace of the collectivist ideals of the World State,
‘Community’ and ‘Stability’”. He adds that “[i]n such a culture, individual identity is
only permissible within a social and collectivist setting (community); moreover, within
a community that is fixed and unchanging (stability)” (idem).
The greater good of stability is reinforced by the system of education. The
populace is taught to abide by the law, and to act in a way that promotes the
maintenance of the community. As Kumar (1987: 248) points out, “[m]odern education
had become obsessed with the need to produce socially useful skills, and to instil, as
was thought, the qualities to be successful in the modern world.” Consequently, man is
prepared to be just a member of society, a servant of the system. Huxley was concerned
with the direction education had taken. In Proper Studies (1927: 114 – 5), Huxley
argues that modern education ends up preventing the individual from being
intellectually independent and from judging things for himself. He believed “[t]he over-
taught child [to be] the father of the newspaper-reading, advertisement-believing,
propaganda-swallowing, demagogue-led man – the man who makes modern democracy
the farce it is” (idem). For Huxley, modern education was basically Althusser’s
“Ideological Apparatus”, a tool for creating stupid obedient automatons.
The education provided in the World State follows this trend. It also follows the
utopian tradition in that it is a tool for the State to disseminate its ideology, and to
generate adhesion to the axiom. It coerces people into behaving properly, which is
carried out through scientific methods of conditioning. The moral values of this society,
which aim at making the citizen a contributor to the stability of the World State, are
inculcated in the minds of young individuals, who will eventually become almost
unable to act differently from what is expected. Should anything fail, there is always
“soma”, a drug which provides users with feelings of peace and relaxation. Huxley
presents this system of education in order to criticise Behaviourism, a new science that
had emerged on his days.
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Behaviourism follows positivism, which is an attempt at applying the principles
and methods of the natural sciences to human problems, with the aim of providing order
to society (Goulart, 1987: 39). Ivan Pavlov (1849 – 1936) was one of the first scientists
to apply science to the behaviour of living organisms. His physiological experiences
with dogs became well-known and provided the scientific intelligentsia with valuable
information concerning the conditioned reflex. Influenced by Pavlov, J. B. Watson
(1878 – 1958) pioneered experiments applying the conditioned reflex to human beings.
The results of such experiments were firstly shown in 1916, in a lecture delivered to the
American Psychological Association (idem: 41; 48). Watson was considered from that
moment on the father of Behaviourism, a science that aimed at the complete
determination of behaviour. Watson claimed that he could make any child become
whatever he devised, on the condition he was given a specific kind of environment to do
so (idem: 41). The concept of the planned individual had gained its momentum, and the
social engineer was now equipped with sufficient knowledge to create his utopia.
In Brave New World, both Pavlov and Watson are satirised. The former lends his
name to the centres where children are educated, the “Neo-Pavlovian Conditioning
Rooms”. The latter is present in the character Helmholtz Watson, a writer of
hypnopaedic rhymes. However, they are not the only historical figures who are mocked
in the novel. Apart from them and Henry Ford, many others have fun poked at their
names. Kumar (1987) pinpoints the most important ones in the following passage:
[h]is old enemy Wells is charitably given only a one-line, walk-on appearance (…). Wells’s
fellow-Fabian George Bernard Shaw also appears fleetingly as Dr. Shaw, as do other free-
thinkers and rationalists (Fifi Braudlaugh, Jean-Jacques Habibullah). The Left gets a
trouncing in Polly Trotsky, Sarojini Engels, Herbert Bakunin, Lenina Crowne, and Bernard
Marx. (…) right-wing dictators or large capitalists (…) are rebuffed in Benito Hoover and
Primo Mellon, the last also doubling for capitalists along with Morgana Rothschild.
Technology gets its due in George Edzel, Joanna Diesel, and Clara Deterding, and science
its brick-bat in Darwin Bonaparte, Bernard Marx, and Helmholtz Watson. (…) Benito
Hoover points up the drive towards the air-conditioned nightmare, the making of life as
mindlessly effortless and physically comfortable as possible through the ceaseless quest for
‘labour-saving’ devices. An especially important role is marked out for Mustapha Mond. His
name not only plays on the fact that he is one of the ten World Controllers, but also takes a
side-swipe at the nationalism symbolized by Attaturk and, more importantly, refers to Alfred
Mond (the latter Lord Melchett), the founder and dynamic chairman of the chemical firm ICI.
Mond stands for the new giant conglomerates that were coming to dominate the industrial
world. (idem: 243)
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The puns on the names of these historical figures are not the only ones Huxley
makes in his text. The very title of the book refers to an intertext, that of Shakespeare’s
The Tempest. The words that form the title of Huxley’s novel are taken from Miranda’s
speech, uttered at the end of the play. Graham Handley, in Brodie’s Notes on Aldous
Huxley’s Brave New World (1992: 10), explains that they refer to things that appear to
be beautiful, but that are in reality corrupt. As pointed out before, dystopian literature
presents utopias as corrupted undesirable worlds. Brave New World could not have a
more appropriate title if one acknowledges that. Furthermore, some of the characters in
The Tempest seem to inform others in Huxley’s text, such as Prospero, who controls the
island, and who can be said to inform Mustapha Mond, the World Controller (idem).
Handley also refers to “soma”, which produces enchantments just like the island in
Shakespeare. The critic argues that in both there is corruption of human nature,
“reflected in the court life and the ousting of Prospero, as compared with the scientific
corruption (it amounts to that) of human nature in Brave New World” (idem).
The corruption of human nature in Brave New World is mainly portrayed by the
erasure of the self. As argued before, there is a tendency in utopias to demystify the self.
If an individual is overtly conscious of his own individuality, he cannot blend in the group
as utopia demands. Occasionally, however, a citizen of the World State develops some
awareness of possessing a self, which actually seems to happen due to some mistake in
the conditioning processes, which is the case of Bernard Marx.
A character who has some sense of personal existence is John the Savage, even
though his experiences are made of unpleasant feelings that range from rejection to
loneliness. John was born – not decanted as brave new worlders are – in the Savage
Reservation of Malpais, a name suggestive of dystopia. Handley (idem: 66 – 7) argues
that John is Huxley’s chosen representative of human freedom, who, at times, is ironically
shown as more civilised emotionally than brave new worlders, due to his ability at giving
rather than only taking. He possesses a feature that practically every brave new worlder
lacks: authenticity. Like Alex, from A Clockwork Orange, John learns from experience,
he has a personal history, and, therefore, a sense of individuality.
Nonetheless, this sense of self is eventually annihilated. Handley (idem: 67)
claims that John “represents natural man overcome, defeated by science which provides
the wherewithal of living without the freedom to choose how one wants to live.” John
the Savage is a threat to the machine-like society of Brave New World because he is not
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bound to the morality of the World State, i.e. because he is free. His suicide points to
the impossibility of being an authentic individual in Huxley’s not so brave a world.
Huxley is not a romantic idealist. He does not believe that a blind fight for
freedom and against the coercions of the powerful would succeed. Differently from
Orwell, Huxley does not believe in the proletariat. He shows how the Savage, who is
nor an intellectual neither aware of science, is incapable of overcoming the power of the
State. He seems to be sending a warning to the intellectuals who were embracing the
dubious ideologies of his contemporary world. He indicates that the bad country is not
exactly the Malpais from where John comes, but the utopian Brave New World. He
does it by presenting the mechanisms that provide the World Controllers with the ability
of managing every aspect of the lives of the citizens. We believe that the most important
of these mechanisms is education.
5.2. Education in the World State
The system of education of the World State is completely controlled by the
government, following Plato’s suggestion that the school of an ideal community should
be in complete harmony with the politics of the State (Plato, 1993: 71). Its objective is to
form a citizen who will abide by moral values that derive from the axiom that informs the
community, in this case the World State. As argued above, this is a hedonistic society,
which prizes pleasure and the satisfaction of personal wishes above all. However, such
wishes are controlled in order to avoid endangering social stability. Education plays a
significant role in effecting this control, as it creates the wishes of the citizenry according
to what the State conceives of as expedient. Such wishes are expected to be granted
immediately. Consequently, brave new worlders are satisfied most of the time, which
prevents them from developing inconvenient feelings, such as frustration. Booker (1994)
comments on the system of education of this brave new world as follows:
[m]uch of the society’s technological capability is directed into a massive program of
indoctrination designed to make them content with the roles that have been designated for
them. Recalling the apotheosis of Pavlov in Soviet Russia, the citizens of Huxley’s dystopia
are conditioned to react automatically without thought or feeling. Both thought and feeling
are strongly discouraged in this society (…). (idem: 172)
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The citizens of the World State are docile bodies, who reply automatically to the
environment, following the State’s direction. The system of education of this society
consists of two parts: the first is what we call psychological conditioning, while the
second is the process of linguistic conditioning. They are based on the Pavlovian theory
of the conditioned reflex, which has already been mentioned.
Psychological conditioning leads the individual to associate certain objects to
given sensations and values. Its mechanics lies mainly on physical response: it provides
either feelings of comfort or distress that will eventually be associated in the mind of the
subject to the exposed objects. In order to illustrate the process, we resort to a passage
in chapter two of the novel, in which, in a dismal scene, Huxley shows us how it works.
In this scene, babies are taught through electric shocks to entertain an instinctive hatred
of books and flowers. The feeling of pain becomes intrinsically associated with both
objects. The process is overly repeated, and the individual is conditioned to interpret
reality through the impressions he is given, responding automatically to his
environment. The result is that those individuals will avoid having contact with books
and flowers, as they will be linked with pain.
There are different aims considered when the State makes citizens hate flowers.
One is economic: the State prevents individuals from enjoying nature as it is an activity
that does not generate profit since one can do it for free. It also represents the erasure of
the romantic idea of beauty, which is generally associated with nature. Finally, it refers
to the demystification of “natural man”, i.e. a man whose personality is formed by
experience, by the interaction with his surroundings and his fellow men.
A very important move is also made when citizens are taught to despise books.
Books contain language, which equals power, especially in dystopian literature. Sisk
(cf. 1997: 2) argues that there is a doubleness in language when it comes to dystopian
literature, since it is either presented as a weapon with which to resist oppression or as a
tool used by the government in order to control the language, and indirectly the minds,
of the populace. Huxley, in his Brave New World Revisited (1965: 85 – 6), says that
“[l]anguage gives definition to our memories and, by translating experiences into
symbols, converts the immediacy of craving or abhorrence, of hatred or love, into fixed
principles of feeling and conduct”. The novelist believes language can thus mould our
personalities. Consequently, the concern of the State with literature is eliminated, since
the citizens are previously conditioned to regard books as something that provokes pain
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and horror. Nonetheless, the concern with language is great, as it takes a central position
in their system of education.
This brings us to the process of linguistic conditioning. For us to understand it,
we need to make use of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis. Sisk (1997: 12) explains that this
theory seems to have been widely accepted by dystopian writers, who see truth and
reality as a linguistic construct. The first part of the hypothesis says that it is impossible
for one to access reality through any other means but language, i.e. that the latter shapes
and structures human perceptions. In the words of Benjamin Lee Whorf himself, “[w]e
dissect nature along lines laid down by our native language” (apud idem: 12). Following
this prerogative
44
, mind manipulators can use language as a tool with which they can
build a conceptual matrix in the minds of individuals. This matrix will dictate the way
these individuals interpret reality, which will eventually condition their responses. Thus,
the behaviour of a person can be linguistically controlled.
In the novel, the process of linguistic conditioning happens through what is called
hypnopaedia. It makes use of human suggestibility: in certain conditions, an individual’s
resistance to external suggestions is lowered, which enhances the power of the mind
manipulator in making his subject follow his directions. Some of these conditions are
exhaustion, stress and boredom, but the best one for the process to be carried out is light
sleep (Huxley, 1965: passim 47 – 54 / 70 – 8). If an individual is given a suggestion in the
states aforesaid, there is a high probability that he will carry out the task given.
If a suggestion is excessively repeated during such states, it can eventually
adhere to the mind of the individual exposed to it, consequently forming his conceptual
matrix. In Brave New World, characters are “sleep-taught”, i.e. they are conditioned
during their sleep, so that they offer virtually no resistance to what is told. The
suggestions given have to be simple and direct, so as not to be open to any intellectual
analysis, and to be easily inculcated when the subjects are in sleep. The process is
demonstrated in the second chapter of the novel, when a group of Beta children is
taught a lesson on “elementary class consciousness”, in which they receive suggestions
on how to view the other classes of the Huxleyan society. The lesson is composed of the
following suggestions:
44
The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis is not universally accepted among linguists, and we are in no position to
advocate it. However, as Sisk suggests (1997: 12), the concern of dystopian literature with language can
be related to this theory.
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Alpha children wear grey. They work much harder than we do, because they’re so
frightfully clever. I’m really awfully glad I’m a Beta, because I don’t work so hard. And
then we are much better than the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear
green, and Delta children wear khaki. Oh no, I don’t want to play with Delta children. And
Epsilons are still worse. They’re too stupid to be able (…) to read or write. Besides they
wear black, which is such a beastly colour. I’m so glad I’m a Beta
45
. (Huxley, 1965: 19)
This is one of the first instances of hypnopaedic rhymes in the novel. It
demonstrates, in a simple manner, how moral values are fixed in the minds of the children.
A very important aspect of this suggestion is the emphasis posed on the satisfaction the
citizen ought to feel for being what he is, which renders it rather unlikely that they wish to
change the order of things. The class is ironically called “class consciousness”, which lays
bare that the consciousness of the brave new worlder is fabricated.
Many of the rhymes are informed with the ideal of collectivism, as we can see in
“every one belongs to every one else” (1965: 29), a recurrent phrase in the novel. This
suggestion is bound to the idea of promiscuity, which aims at preventing citizens from
being attached to someone in special. As the citizens take this idea for granted, the State
strengthens its control over the individual. No one can belong to himself, as everyone
belongs to everyone else. The brave new worlder has a lack of control over his own life,
since the community dominates it.
Anything that might resemble any consciousness of individuality or that might
interfere with the perfect operations of society must be repressed. Feelings could
potentially do so, an idea that is shown in the saying “[w]hen the individual feels, the
community reels” (idem: 72). The opposition between society and the individual is clear
in this sentence. Man cannot feel, as it may endanger his stability, and, in turn, that of
his community. Therefore, the individual cannot be given a great value, which is
exemplified by the rhyme “the social body persists although the component cells may
change” (idem: 74).
Soma is also a theme, evidenced in sayings such as “one cubic centimetre cures
ten gloomy sentiments” (idem: 69), “a gramme is always better than a damn” (idem), “a
gramme in time saves nine” (idem), and “[w]as and will make me ill, (…) I take a
gramme and only am” (idem: 80). Such examples show how the individual is led to use
the drug that prevents him from having strong feelings. The thorough repetition of these
rhymes when the children are educated, along with the habit of resorting to them every
45
Emphasis of the author.
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now and again, makes the populace of the World State practically incapable of doing
anything that goes against the rule. And, in case they entertain any thought or intention
of doing something which is unorthodox, soma is there to guarantee that the thought
will not become an action.
These are some of the rhymes that make up the conceptual matrix of the brave
new worlder. They contain the official ideology and the moral values of the State.
Education indoctrinates the children in those values, and, when adults, they cannot help
but become perfect law-abiding citizens. The process of linguistic conditioning
transforms the individual into a puppet controlled by someone else’s words. This is the
reason why Huxley, in Brave New World Revisited (1965: 86), affirms that “the enemies
of freedom systematically pervert the resources of language in order to wheedle or
stampede their victims into thinking, feeling and acting as they, the mind-manipulators,
want them to think, feel and act”. Language, thus, becomes the tool of the puppeteer.
Baker (1990: 93-94) suggests that what keeps the stability of the World State is
shortening the “crevice of time”, which is the time between the appearance of a desire
and its fulfilment. However, the stability of this community relies on the fabrication of
the desires of the populace, not so much in their quick realisation. Through the
conditioning techniques discussed so far, the State makes its citizenry desire only that
which they find appropriate and that they can grant instantly. Happiness, i.e. fulfilling
people’s desires, is the goal of the government in Huxley’s fictional community.
Nevertheless, Tenley Williams (in Bloom, 1999: 11) points out that one should bear in
mind that “‘[h]appiness and virtue’ reside in social conditioning”. The example selected
above, which presents children being taught to love their social role, lays bare that the
satisfaction of the citizenry depends on conditioning – it is structured on education. The
D.H.C. is conscious of the importance of conditioning and defines the rhymes thus:
[they are] [d]rops of liquid sealing-wax, drops that adhere, incrust, incorporate themselves
with what they fall on, till finally the rock is all one scarlet blob.
Till at last the child’s mind is these suggestions, and the sum of the suggestions is the
child’s mind. And not the child’s mind only. The adult’s mind too – all his life long. The
mind that judges and desires and decides – made up of these suggestions. But all these
suggestions are our suggestions. (...) Suggestions from the State
46
. (1965: 20)
46
Emphasis of the author.
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Nonetheless, even with all these devices, there are still some individuals who act
in an unorthodox way. Sisk (1997: 21) points out two characters who contradict what is
socially acceptable, and draws our attention to the fact of both being “wordsmiths”, i.e.
linguists. They are Bernard Marx and Helmholtz Watson, a psychologist and an
emotional engineer respectively. As both deal with language in a professional basis,
they become extremely aware of its power, which gives them a possibility of reflecting
on the processes of conditioning.
Marx becomes a sceptic, he does not believe in the motivations of his fellow
brave new worlders, as he knows such motivations are all products of the State. He then
refuses to take part in many of the practices of the World State, and is labelled as a sort
of freak. However, he is also looked down on because he does not have the body
structure of his caste, which was actually caused by a flaw in his genetic conditioning.
Due to his different appearance, he does not share the same popularity with his fellow
Alphas when it comes to women, and, therefore, cannot have his wishes granted as
often as he had been conditioned to expect.
At first, Marx seems to be an outsider who will endanger the stability of the
community. He seems to be a conscious rebel ready to oppose the order of the State.
Nevertheless, he shows he is not a rebel at all after he comes back from the reservation.
He brings John the Savage with him, a presence that boosts Marx’s popularity. He is
responsible for the Savage, and, if other brave new worlders want to have contact with
the latter, they need the former. Marx’s newfound fame puts him in a position in which
he is able to indulge in the pleasures he had been conditioned to seek, but that were not
granted due to his marked bodily difference. As his desires are fulfilled, his former antic
disposition disappears, thus evidencing that he had not been a rebel, but simply a
dissatisfied individual.
Watson is a different case. He does not feel attached to the community either,
but he has all his wishes granted. His difference stems from the fact that he is
intellectually superior, which brings him a deeper awareness of life. He is a writer of
hypnopaedic rhymes, who feels they are shallow, and who longs to write texts that are
more meaningful. He concludes that it is not possible for him to write meaningfully in
the World State, since the environment does not give him material to formulate new
ideas. This shows that, in a society that is planned to its utmost, there is no possibility of
conceiving original thoughts. The only thing a brave new worlder has to say or think are
the rhymes the State inculcates in their minds.
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This can be noticed in situations that are new for the citizens of the World
State. When they are faced with unknown contexts, there is a usual pattern of reaction:
firstly, they are silent, and then they resort to a hypnopaedic rhyme, repeating it. As
they have nothing to say about the novel situation, since their conceptual matrix does
not afford this possibility, there is an uncomfortable silence. The feeling of discomfort
is so strong, that the brave new worlder is forced to resort to the hypnopaedic rhymes,
which may provide him with some feeling of security. This happens in various
instances, like in the passage in chapter six, in which Bernard Marx tells Lenina
Crowne about his wish to experience strong feelings, which he thinks he might be able
to do if he represses his desires. Lenina cannot understand what he says and feels
desperation rising, when she finally resorts to an inculcated rhyme. The passage is
here transcribed:
“Never put off till to-morrow the fun you can have to-day,” she said gravely.
“Two hundred repetitions, twice a week from fourteen to sixteen and a half,” was all his
comment. The mad bad talk rambled on. “I want to know what passion is,” she heard him
saying. “I want to feel something strongly”.
“When the individual feels, the community reels,” Lenina pronounced. (Huxley, 1965: 72)
The way Lenina responds to an unknown situation is quite interesting. She is
exposed to familiar words, such as the verb “to feel”, in an unfamiliar context. The word
functions as a trigger to activate the familiar meaning, which was previously inculcated.
As soon as Bernard uses the verb, Lenina responds, making use of the hypnopaedic
suggestion that carries the meaning of the word “to feel” in that particular culture.
Linguistic conditioning is so strong that the citizenry of the World State is made almost
incapable of conceiving thoughts that might subvert the official order.
Matter (apud Sisk, 1997: 27 – 8) argues that “[t]he World Controllers appear to
agree with [Benjamin Lee] Whorf’s theory of linguistic relativity, which suggests that
people who have no words to express antisocial sentiments cannot think antisocially”.
What is efficient about the whole process is that brave new worlders do not realise that
the words they use are someone else’s words. Sisk comments on the efficiency of the
process, arguing that the conditioned individuals do not feel repressed:
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Brave New World does not reveal a government forcing a thought-restricting language on
its populace. Rather, Huxley shows us a society that engineers its population from
conception on and then fulfils all the desires that it has conditioned in them. The citizens of
the Brave New World State do not consider themselves repressed. They do not long for
things that the State has done away with. (…) As far as the vast majority of citizens are
concerned, complete happiness and social harmony have been brought about at no cost to
themselves. (idem: 22)
From what we have discussed, we conclude that education, which is carried out
through conditioning processes, is the pillar of Huxley’s society. The World State
depends for its existence on the careful control of education and its use as a tool to
indoctrinate the citizens in the ideology of the State. William Matter (in Koster, 1999:
62) argues that Huxley’s utopian community derives from the tradition firstly espoused
in Plato’s Republic. Referring to the processes of conditioning shown in the novel,
Matter claims that they follow the principle of Plato’s “necessary lies”, i.e. they educate
people to believe that which is regarded as essential for the stability of the social body,
even if they are not true (idem: 63). In a passage in chapter three, Bernard Marx reveals
that these ideas are not lies at all, since “[s]ixty-two thousand four hundred repetitions
make one truth” (Huxley, 1965: 35). The key feature on which Huxley’s dystopian
nightmare is based is not a lie exactly, but the fabrication and further inculcation of
truth. Huxley follows Plato in that he chooses the same device to make his utopia
feasible, the State ideological apparatus known as education.
5.3. Free Will in the World State
As we have seen, the system of education of Huxley’s brave new world
produces citizens who provide the community with stability and continuity. The World
State is greater than the individual, who is a mere cell in the social body. Stephen
Greenblatt (in Bloom, 1999) describes the brave new worlder as a figure who simply
repeats the words of a ventriloquist, and argues that such a society dehumanises the
individual:
(…) the average man (...) goes through life reciting the slogans which are, in fact, his total
being. It is clearly not possible to be human and part of the system at the same time, for the
essence of man is seen by Huxley as creativity, free will, recovery of natural passion, and
these are heresies which the Brave New World has suppressed. (idem: 42 – 3)
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Greenblatt touches one of the main points of the novel: the relation between
humanity and free will. As we have concluded in previous chapters, free will may be
seen as the very essence of a human being. Brave new worlders are determined beings,
people devoid of free will. Their thoughts, and consequently their actions, are all
dictated by the conceptual matrix which is built by the processes of conditioning
aforementioned, processes that pertain to the system of education of the World State.
Using Paul Russell’s scheme (in Kane ed., 2002), in which free will is divided
into different levels, one can claim that the control the system of education holds over
brave new worlders refers to the second level, i.e. the middle-range level. It concerns
the intention or will of an agent, not simply his behaviour. In the World State, the
agent’s actions may be said to be free, for he can do whatever he feels inclined to do.
This freedom is illusory, though, since his will is controlled by the government, through
education. The inability of brave new worlders at acting unorthodoxly does not stem
from an inability at translating thought into action, but from their inability at willing or
even conceiving unorthodox thoughts.
The education of the World State also hampers the third level of freedom in
Russell’s scheme. The horizon level refers to the formation of reason-responsive
mechanisms, i.e. the cognitive processes used when interpreting reality. This system,
previously called as “conceptual matrix”, is entirely dictated by the hypnopaedic processes
used in the World State’s education. The brave new worlder cannot help but think following
the way he has been taught to think. His freedom of conceiving new and different ideas is,
thus, also constrained.
The system of education in Huxley’s utopian community effects a complete
adjustment between society and individual, affording the World State the possibility of
being perpetuated. On the other hand, it eliminates free will, which is replaced by
association and hypnopaedia. Brave new worlders are dehumanised human beings,
robot-like people, who respond automatically to what society demands, in the way the
State devises. Using Huxley’s own vocabulary, education in this new world provides
citizens with a “surrogate-will”.
Through Mustapha Mond, a World Controller, Huxley shows the reader how the
World State conceives of free will. Following the deterministic perspective, the
Controller argues that “[o]ne believes things because one has been conditioned to
believe them” (Huxley, 1965: 180 – 1). His discourse works in a two-fold way: it
denaturalises any concept one might take as true by exposing it as a construct, and
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further shows how conditioning techniques easily naturalise any concept whatsoever.
Mond is convinced that control is unavoidable, and, consequently, since he believes
people are products of their surroundings, it is the duty of the State to improve the
methods of conditioning, thus contributing to more efficient results of social
engineering.
However, as exposed above, the use of such coercive techniques denies man the
capability of being autonomous. Mond and the World State do not believe in autonomy,
but in automatism. John the Savage, on the other hand, advocates free will. In one of the
most memorable dialogues in dystopian literature, a clash between the views of Mond
and John, Huxley explores what Guinevera A. Nance (in Koster, 1999: 103) argues to
be the central problem of the novel: “the extent to which happiness must necessarily
exclude freedom and to which freedom must include unhappiness”.
Nance (idem) argues that “[t]he new-world civilization is predicated on the conviction
that happiness and freedom are mutually exclusive and that happiness is the greater good”.
Man does not need freedom but happiness, because the former may entail problems,
frustration, instability of the individual, and eventually instability of society. In the name of
stability, the World State conditions its citizens to be happy all the time. In Mond’s view, one
would only think of going against the government when the latter is not able to provide what
the former demands. Hence, the wishes of the citizenry must be fabricated according to what
the State is able to cater for. The Controller explains that conditioned happiness breeds social
stability because everyone is able to “get what they want, and they never want what they can’t
get” (Huxley, 1965: 169). The will of the brave new worlder must be controlled, it cannot be
free. Almeda King (in Bloom, 1999) argues that man, in Huxley’s fictional society, is simply
a commodity to provide the State with continuity:
The horror of man’s attaining the kind of happiness which destroys his humanity is
heightened by the realization that this society does not exist for man but that man exists for
the society. He is a vehicle for the perpetuation of a society which has distorted human
values in placing its optimum on industrial efficiency. Man is merely a cog in the intricate
machinery of mass production. (idem: 50)
The system is indeed bigger than the individual. Every citizen in the Brave New
World is decanted and taught to serve the community. This does not only happen to the
lower castes, but is extended to the World Controllers as well.
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Like Plato’s Philosopher-Kings, the World Controllers are obliged to adhere to
the system. They are genetically manipulated, decanted, and further conditioned like
any other being in the Brave New World, which implies that they will have to serve the
social machine the same way.
Mustapha Mond is a character that illustrates it. Despite the fact that he has
knowledge of all the mechanisms of social engineering of his community, his
conceptual matrix is formed of the same sum of slogans and associations every child of
his caste is given when they are educated. His duty is to control society with the
objective of keeping the wheels turning smoothly. He controls, but is also controlled by
the system (cf. Baker, 1990: 127). According to Baker, “[t]he final source of power in
the World State is the World State itself, a vast and, in Mond’s words, ‘irresistible
machine’ that encloses and sustains everyone” (idem: 127). There is no escape from the
power of the system. Even the Controller must yield.
A passage that clearly illustrates that even rulers are devoid of freedom is shown
in chapter sixteen, when Mond explains that any attempt at change is a threat to stability
(Huxley, 1965: 172). He argues that “[e]very discovery in pure science is potentially
subversive; even science must be sometimes treated as a possible enemy” (idem: 173).
He relates his personal experiences as a scientist, telling his interlocutors that he was
once faced with the choice of either being exiled or becoming a World Controller.
These options were given because Mond had been making unorthodox scientific
experiments. He would only be able to carry out these experiments in his exile, but, if
he wanted to remain as a citizen of the World State, he would have to abandon his
research in the name of stability. Mond recognises that “[h]appiness is a hard master –
particularly other people’s happiness” (idem: 174). As happiness is the aim of the
system, it turns out that the latter is the hard master.
The resemblance of the World Controller with Plato’s Philosopher-King is
striking, since both, despite being the rulers of their own societies, are actually
overruled by the system. Plato’s philosopher is as much a slave as the chained citizens
of the cave. Mustapha Mond is also a cog in the World State’s machinery, another
slave, with more awareness of life and of his individuality, but still an automaton. One
could argue that Mond has a choice, since he is offered exile. However, we believe that
he is unable to exercise his free will, since he himself acknowledges that he has taken
his position out of duty: “Well, duty’s duty. One can’t consult one’s own preferences”
(idem: 175). Mond is merely another dehumanised being.
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John the Savage opposes this idea of ultimate control over the individual.
Differently from brave new worlders, John has been educated through personal
experiences in the reservation, which are actually rather grotesque. He is an outcast in
two ways, since he is not accepted as part of the community and is not cared for by his
mother, Linda, a former inhabitant of the World State. The feeling of rejection is a
powerful element of his character. His educational background consists basically of his
readings of Shakespeare. The plays of the English dramatist provide John with the
words to express his feelings. His perspective on reality is deeply influenced by the
bard. Due to this, many a critic would argue that John is as conditioned by Shakespeare
as brave new worlders are by hypnopaedia. It is true that Shakespeare does inform the
Savage’s conceptual matrix. However, there are deeper layers of meaning on Huxley’s
choice in using the famous Elizabethan playwright.
The critics who advocate that John has been as conditioned as brave new
worlders miss two points. Firstly, that even though John has been influenced by
Shakespearean representations of humanity and the world, this has not happened in a
systematic way, and, consequently, it cannot be considered control. As shown before,
Russell (in Kane, 2002: 236) argues that compatibilism accepts the past and nature as
determinants of behaviour, but not as controllers, since there is no intention involved.
The same can be applied to Shakespeare as it regards John. The bard informs the
Savage’s personality, but does not control it. The second reason lies in the human
ability of reflecting on reality. The Savage is not a blank sheet of paper on which
Shakespeare’s words are copied, but he arrives at his own interpretations of such words,
creating his own meaning for them, and using them to inform his judgement. This
intrinsic human element, that of reflecting on reality, is what gives John the ability to
exercise his free will, and, consequently, to retain his humanity.
The choice of Shakespeare as the main source for the formation of the Savage’s
conceptual matrix is very important. Harold Bloom, in Shakespeare: a invenção do
humano (2001: 29) argues that the dramatist has practically invented what we know
today as personality. Leaving Bloom’s exaggerations aside, we can see Shakespeare as
the writer who has portrayed human personality in its fullest. As the critic argues, the
characters the playwright has created are memorable not simply because of their fall or
flaws in their personality, but mainly because their actions stem from their own will
(idem: 26). Arnold Hauser, in História Social da Arte e da Literatura (2000: 435),
argues that Shakespeare’s plays deal with conflicts of consciousness. Such conflicts
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derive from the freely chosen actions of the characters, who have to face the
consequences of their own will. The English bard paints the human being with all hues,
with all his characteristics, either admirable or undesirable. Having read Shakespeare’s
complete works, the Savage is able to have an overview of the human character. His
personality is informed with the lines he has read, and he can only express his feelings
after the bard indirectly teaches him how to do it.
Like many of Shakespeare’s characters, the Savage is a man who has to face
conflicts that stem from his own will. His humanity is shown by his fight to preserve his
freedom. In his attempt at contradicting Mond in the dialogue mentioned above, he strives
to prove that one’s individuality and free will must be maintained, if one is to remain
human. He finally claims for the right to transgress in the often-quoted passage: “But I
don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want
goodness, I want sin.” (Huxley, 1965: 184). In his discourse, which might be said to echo
Augustine, sin is equalled to freedom. In the engineered society of Brave New World, a
sin is an action against the State, a transgression of the social norm. John the Savage
becomes then an advocate of transgression. Mustapha Mond argues that he is actually
claiming the right to be unhappy (idem). As critic William Matter (in Koster, 1999: 68)
puts it, “[s]cience has, in fact, taken Huxley’s civilization to the extreme position of
making unhappiness a crime against the social body”.
John also equates sin to goodness. Huxley appears to be making use of the
Manichaean scheme, which states that the existence of an element depends on the
existence of its opposite. The Savage believes that by erasing the possibility of acting
unorthodoxly, i.e. by eradicating social evil, goodness is subsequently eradicated. One
cannot fail to see the similarities with A Clockwork Orange: John the Savage is as much a
defender of transgression as Alex is, even though both characters transgress in very
different terms.
The Savage transgresses by not letting the World State decide what to do with
him, but by choosing what to do with his life. Nevertheless, he does so through a
paradoxical act that is simultaneously an action against the State and an action against
himself. He goes against the utilitarian use the State makes of its citizenry by choosing
to kill himself, and hence by eliminating the possibility of becoming another cog in the
machine. John’s self-slaughter is generally seen as the final assault the World State is
able to make on him. Notwithstanding, we would like to claim here that the State does
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not determine John to act the way he does, but that, even though being pressed by brave
new worlders, it is John’s own choice to commit suicide.
Edward Hallet Carr, in “A sociedade e o indivíduo” (2002: 68) refers to suicide
as an act that represents perfect freedom for the individual man. He argues that any
other act one may do involves being a member of society (idem). By killing himself, the
Savage shows that the State is not able to control him, but that he himself has the power
over his own existence. As Antonin Artaud, in “Sobre o Suicídio” (2004), puts it:
Se eu me mato, não será para me destruir, mas para me reconstituir, o suicídio não será
para mim senão um meio de me reconquistar violentamente, de irromper brutalmente em
meu ser, de antecipar o avanço incerto de Deus. Pelo suicídio, eu reintroduzo meu
desígnio na natureza, eu dou pela primeira vez às coisas a forma de minha vontade. Eu
me livro deste condicionamento de meus órgãos tão mal ajustados com meu eu e a vida
não é mais para mim um acaso absurdo onde eu penso aquilo que me dão a pensar. Eu
escolho então o meu pensamento e a direção de minhas forças, de minhas tendências, de
minha realidade. (idem: 249)
John’s suicide can be seen in the light of Artaud’s comments as the final
expression of his will. Should the World State succeed in controlling him, he would
become another socially determined individual, another thread in the social fabric, and
finally yield his will to the social norm. Suicide, being his last act of transgression, frees
him from the hands of the determinism of the State, thus eliminating his social
applicability. He is not a docile body, for he frees his body by paradoxically destroying
it. Suicide becomes the most powerful affirmation of individual man.
Nonetheless, even though John exercises his will by freeing himself from the
hands of the State, the existence of Huxley’s utopian society is still based on the
impossibility of free will. The Savage would never be allowed to have his own way in
the World State. He would have only three possibilities to choose from: becoming a
social puppet like all the others, which would be rather unlikely due to his background;
escaping to a deserted place, which he actually attempts at first, but is not able to
achieve; or, finally, the option he chooses, suicide. It is clear that it is not possible to be
human in the Brave New World, for the human essence is corrupted with the destruction
of free will. The system of education of the World State, thus, provides the latter with
stability and continuity, for every member is educated to be a perfect law-abiding
automaton.
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6. Brave Clockwork Worlds
Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World was published exactly thirty years before
Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange. In spite of that, both authors share a similar
concern. The two novels pertain to the dystopian genre, whose main objective is to question
utopian ideals. As argued in chapter one, there is a paradox in the heart of utopia: its
perfection lies in its imaginary character. The realisation of utopia is conditional on the
perfect harmony between the axiom of the utopist and what the populace conceives as true,
a condition which cannot be realised without the resort to techniques which subject the will
of the populace to that of the utopist.
The axiom to which the members of an ideal community are subjected is a set of moral
codes, which provides the way they are expected to behave. As seen in the second chapter of
this dissertation, morality is a system of fixed rules of conduct, which is social in nature, and
which contains three elements: discipline, social attachment and autonomy. Because utopian
societies are holistic and intentional (cf. 12), the avoidance of conflict becomes a prerogative,
and discipline takes the leading role in the scheme of utopian morality. Discipline limits the
choices of the individual to goals that are socially expedient and achievable. These goals are
defined considering the whole of society, with the objective of avoiding social conflict and thus
strengthening the second element, that of social attachment.
Durkheim argues that the school is the best place in which morality can be
developed, since discipline, social interaction and autonomy, i.e. understanding, are therein
cultivated (cf. 30). Education, thus, is portrayed as one of the most important institutions – if
not the most important – in utopian communities. Our analysis of Plato’s Republic has shown
the importance of this institution in utopianism, but it has also shown that the education
provided in Plato’s utopia is actually a fallacy: because rationalism cannot provide one with
the ability of apprehending reality in its totality, the truths the philosopher intends to
represent cannot be anything but representations, fabrications. Thus, the platonic system of
education cannot provide pupils with the understanding of a true morality, but only with a
fabricated set of moral codes.
It is important to point out that Plato creates a system of education which does not
allow citizens to entertain thoughts that could contradict the moral values of the
commonwealth (cf. 34). The platonic citizen is an individual who abides by the law,
contributing to the welfare of his community, and who does not question what the State
labels as right, i.e. an individual who chooses what the State wants him to choose. Plato’s
system of education does not form an individual who is autonomous, for autonomy
comprehends the ability to choose a course of action freely.
Autonomy is the element of morality which is related to the concept of free will. As
we argued in chapter three, compatibilism seems to be the most appropriate perspective
with which to approach the existence of free will. We have concluded that we are both
determined by factors such as the past or nature and that we are free in that we can
manipulate such factors by reflecting on them and conceiving of different ways to act (cf.
45). We have also argued, using the philosophy of Augustine, that free will brings an
ambiguity in its core: only by choosing goodness can man be good, but the possibility of
choosing goodness must necessarily include the possibility of choosing evil (cf. 46).
Utopia is a sort of society which cannot conceive the existence of evil, and,
therefore, the very possibility of choosing evil must be erased. This is the reason why
utopianism usually disregards the third element of morality, that of autonomy. In addition,
the politics of utopia, which becomes ideological if the planned community is established,
aims at assuring the continuity of the “perfect” world, and, as a result, the system of
education in utopian societies follows the reproductive politics. The individual is thus
expected to reproduce the norm, not to question it, which entails a constraint of his will. If his
will were free, the individual would be able to conceive of the community or its moral values
in new ways. Change and, consequently, free will are not welcome in utopia, since both
might bring instability.
The type of utopian society we have analysed in this dissertation is planned to its
utmost, which implies that its structure cannot be changed. In order to avoid change, the
individual is educated in such a thorough manner that he becomes practically unable to act
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in ways that do not conform to the moral values of his commonwealth. A utopian system of
education is in fact a programme of conditioning, whose result is the transformation of
human beings into automata. The planned individual is stable, and, therefore, society is
assured to keep its stability. However, utopia ceases to be. It becomes a bad place in which
human beings are drained of the very essence of their humanity, they are robbed of their
free will. This contradiction is what the dystopian writer reveals to his readers, and this is
what both Huxley and Burgess have in common. They show that utopia cannot be eutopia –
a good place – after it is effected. It can only become dystopia – the bad place – as
humanity is dehumanised.
We believe the main similarity between Brave New World and A Clockwork Orange
lies in the fact that both expose the effects of the techniques of education used to manage
the social being. In both novels, education
47
is based on the Pavlovian concept of the
conditioned reflex. Burgess presents the Ludovico Technique, which leads Alex to
associate the response of feeling pain and nausea to violence. In Huxley’s novel, the
citizenry of the World State is reared on association and hypnopaedia, which makes them
link nature to pain, and truth to linguistic fabrications. Both novelists paint utopian systems
of education in a very different perspective from the utopist, thus laying bare the faults of
such a conception of education.
This conception is in key with Althusserian theory, which states that the school is
the most powerful “State ideological apparatus”, as it dictates the roles one assumes in
society (cf. 24 – 5). Brave new worlders are taught in the ideology of the State, and told
how to conceive of their own and other social classes. They do not negotiate roles in the
social body, but simply assume the ones they have been assigned. Everything they do is
designed by hypnopaedia, which provides complete harmony between the populace and the
ideology of the State. The system of education of the World State is indeed an Althusserian
system.
Alex is also taught how to treat others cordially. Not only is he made incapable of
using violence, but he also has to resort to a pattern of action that is expected in a civilised
society. Dr. Brodsky explains that Alex is only able to make the feeling of sickness subside
47
It is true that Alex, the protagonist of A Clockwork Orange is not educated, but actually re-educated in the
morals of the community.
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when he does a good deed (cf. 64). Thus, like brave new worlders, Alex is led to assume a
role: that of good-doer and good citizen. The Ludovico Technique, hence, can also be
considered an ideological apparatus.
Not only do the systems of education in both novels produce similar beings who
conform to the ideology of the State, but they also provide the characters with similar patterns
of action. When Alex imagines or sees violent scenes, he feels the discomfort of sickness and
has to resort to an acceptable course of action. Brave new worlders also feel a discomfort when
faced with novel situations, represented by their silence, which is immediately broken by
resorting to the hypnopaedic rhymes. This pattern points out to the external influence, actually
not simply an influence but an external command of the actions of the characters mentioned.
They do not act because they will to do so, but because they are led to do so.
Nonetheless, in spite of the many similarities between the novels, what bounds them
even more strongly together are their differences. As we have shown in chapters four and
five, the way they present the effects of conditioning techniques is quite different: Huxley
lays bare the influence of coercion on the macrocosm, i.e. on society, whereas Burgess
focuses on the microcosm, i.e. the individual. These differing scopes provide us with a
dialogue in which the novels complement one another, as they present the effects of
coercive methods in the two spheres of social life.
The first contrasting element we find between the novels, apart from their scope, is
the period in which conditioning is applied. A Clockwork Orange presents us with
conditioning being used after the fact, i.e. with a character who has already committed a
number of anti-social acts and has to be transformed into a socially acceptable individual.
Brave New World shows us conditioning before the fact, i.e. it describes a society that uses
conditioning in order to educate their citizens beforehand so as they do not end up doing
anti-social deeds.
This contrasting element actually makes the loss of free will in Huxley’s novel even
more pronounced. As we contrast Alex’s pain and sorrow, which result from his
incapability at acting according to his own will, with the relative ease with which brave
new worlders live, we might conclude that conditioning in the World State is carried in a
more thorough manner. Differently from Alex, the brave new worlder does not have his
will suppressed. His will is actually fabricated, which makes it possible for the World State
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to erase its presence as a controlling agent. The citizen of Huxley’s utopia does not suffer
from being controlled, and he has no idea of what personal experience and free will mean.
They are so thoroughly controlled that they cannot realise the absurdity of their condition.
Control is stronger in the World State because of the processes of conditioning used.
Burgess’s Ludovico Technique is a method that uses only association. Huxley’s World
Controllers do not think association is enough, and, therefore, they also resort to linguistic
conditioning. The conceptual matrix of brave new worlders is formed of hypnopaedic
rhymes, which ultimately make the citizens of Huxley’s utopia think exactly according to
the morals of the State.
John and Alex, on the other hand, are not linguistically conditioned
48
. The first has
his conceptual matrix formed by Shakespeare, whereas the second has his formed by
Nadsat. This lack of linguistic domination allows them the power of thinking differently
from what the State devises. They can express themselves: the Savage has appropriated a
language that enables him to express his feelings, and Alex has a language of his own,
which points to even stronger a sense of self.
As mentioned before, A Clockwork Orange refers to the close-range level of freedom
in Paul Russell’s scheme, whereas Brave New World refers to the middle-range and horizon
levels (cf. 68 / 93). Despite being conditioned, Alex has a sense of self and of individual will,
which he is able to retain after the application of the Ludovico Technique. He is made unable
to express his own will, which cannot be translated into action, but the government cannot
effect a complete erasure of it. Brave new worlders, on the other hand, have no sense of self
whatsoever, as their wishes and even the way they interpret reality are totally conditioned by
the State. As far as brave new worlders are concerned there is no loss of the individual will,
because there is not such a thing as an individual will in their society in the first place. We
might conclude that they are nothing but clockwork beings, socially useful puppets, who have
a void taking the place of what should be a self, not human beings at all.
As we have shown, free will entails the possibility to transgress the norm. In
Burgess’s novel, transgression is exactly what brings the government to use the Ludovico
Technique. Alex’s society is not a utopia, but it cannot accept transgression any longer, a
48
As we have discussed in chapter five, we do not believe John the Savage to be conditioned by Shakespeare
(cf. 96).
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typical characteristic of utopias. The Ludovico Technique is the type of method used in
utopian societies in order to erase the possibility of transgression. Burgess, however, is not
concerned with utopia directly, but with the effect such utopian methods have on the human
being. The power of his novel lies in his ability at showing the reader that free will has to be
defended against all odds, even if that entails the existence of vicious hooligans like Alex.
Free will is in the core of A Clockwork Orange.
Transgression is also an important aspect in Huxley’s text. The two transgressors
who were decanted (not born) in the World State, namely Bernard Marx and Helmholtz
Watson, are sent into exile. John the Savage, also a transgressor, is not the kind of
individual that the World State would like to have wandering around its domains. He is a
potential threat to stability, which is exemplified by the way he affects Lenina Crowne, a
character who ends up making mistakes at work because of his disquieting influence.
Psychological and linguistic conditioning, i.e. education, are there to guarantee that
transgression of the social norm does not occur. The World State has to be kept stable,
harmonious and peaceful. The perfect world cannot allow people to make dangerous
choices. The structure of utopia is in the core of Brave New World.
Nevertheless, as argued before, freedom of the will demands the very possibility of
transgressing. This is exactly what utopia has to dispense with. The World State, a utopian
society, eradicates free will through education. Burgess’s novel exposes how such
eradication is inimical to the human being, as it destroys the self. Utopia, thus, depends on
the erasure of the human being. It is a perfect world, populated by non-beings.
By comparing both novels, we conclude that in utopias man is created by and for
society. The double truism about man and society becomes a unilateral truism: man does
not create society anymore, but society alone creates man. This points to the danger of
taking utopian education for granted. The dystopian perspective given by Burgess and
Huxley shows that the conditioning techniques used in order to establish utopia crush the
individual and transform society into a giant machine against which man is incapable of
effecting any opposition. Utopia, thus, cannot be good, but only a nightmare, which any
person with a sense of self, however feeble it might be, wishes to escape from.
This escape is presented in the two novels by suicide. In A Clockwork Orange, Alex
attempts to kill himself, but is not able to do so. Burgess’s point is free will, and Alex has
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to survive in order to show that he can change out of his own will, so that we can see choice
taking place. Huxley’s point is another one: he openly attacks utopia. Only two options are
open for John the Savage: to decide his own fate or yield to the World State. In A
Clockwork Orange: a play with music (1998: 28), Burgess has Dr. Brodsky say the
following: “‘How like a god,’ said Hamlet of humankind. Better to say ‘How like a dog’. A
dog, as Pavlov showed, can at least be conditioned by the control of its reflexes into
behaving like a harmless machine”. The Savage chooses to behave like the Shakespearean
man, and chooses self-slaughter, showing that he would rather “not to be” by his own
choice, since “to be” in the World State equals an “unchosen” “not to be”.
Both Burgess and Huxley show the danger of arrant utopianism. Their novels
portray utopian methods of education, which are presented in a perspective different from
that of the utopist. This perspective is one that defends man and his rights to be what he is.
Both novels have influenced people at the time when they were published, and continue to
exert their influence on us today. In a world in which science has been constantly
misapplied, and in which the powerful seek to extend their dominions by establishing their
culture in poorer countries, their warning cannot cease to be heard. They question the very
desirability of utopia, by showing that once established it ceases to be and becomes
dystopia, or the bad place. And we cannot help but say “O Brave Clockwork World that has
such robots in it”.
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8. Abstract
This dissertation is an analysis on the role of education in utopian communities
and its relation to free will as presented in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and
Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange. Both novels tackle the themes
aforementioned in differing scopes, the first presenting the effects of a utopian system
of education on free will in the macrocosm, i.e. on society as a whole, and the second
presenting such effects on the microcosm, i.e. on the individual. The present work is
intended to establish a dialogue between the two novels, with a view at laying bare the
negative consequences a utopian system of education produces on an individual’s
ability at exercising free will.
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9. Resumo
A presente dissertação é uma análise a respeito da função da educação em
comunidades utópicas e sua relação com o conceito de livre-arbítrio da forma como são
apresentados em Admirável Mundo Novo, de Aldous Huxley, e Laranja Mecânica, de
Anthony Burgess. Ambos os romances lidam com os temas mencionados acima em
diferentes instâncias: o primeiro apresenta os efeitos de um sistema de educação utópico
sobre o livre-arbítrio num âmbito macro, isto é, na sociedade como um todo; já o
segundo apresenta tais efeitos num âmbito micro, isto é, sobre o indivíduo. Intentamos,
neste trabalho, estabelecer um diálogo entre os dois romances, com o objetivo de
mostrar as conseqüências negativas que um sistema educacional utópico produz sobre a
habilidade de um indivíduo em exercitar seu livre-arbítrio.
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