One of the many clichés attached to marathons running is it’s an addiction. Like most clichés, there’s something in it. Like other kinds of addiction, marathon running is an expensive pastime, can be ruinous to health and relationships and generally takes you away from normal, social behaviour and turns you into a sell-centred, slightly obsessive outcast with Vaseline smeared into your most tender places.
The ballot for the 2016 London Marathon opens in about 6 hours’ time and like last year, Iwill be staying up into the small hours – on a school night – refreshing the website hoping for the magic word ‘open’.
I first entered London in 1995 and was frankly amazed, rather than disappointed when I was rejected. I naively thought that you applied, you got in and you went to London and did it. Since then, I have completed 10 London Marathon. I have applied 17 times – and on two of those occasions I was successful. With those odds, why don’t I just got to bed?
Because – and here’s the next cliché – London is a magical event. Actually running it is only a part of the experience. The build-up, the exhibition where you pick up your race number, the BBC music, I could go on.
Any marathon, regardless of iconic landmarks, supportive crowds, faultless organisation is bloody hard work. For a paunchy middle –aged non-athlete, running the marathon is really bloody hard work. It hurts, it’s can be soul-destroying and it makes you walk like an idiot for at least 4 days afterwards; going down stairs is agony. I have, thank God, no inspirational story to tell. I have my limbs and have reasonable health. I have overcome no significant obstacles in my running life (my belly excepted) and I have a comfortable job that, if I can summon-up sufficient motivation, allows my the time to get some proper training done. No one is going to shed a tear watching me stagger to the finish line. Except, perhaps of laughter. I am one of many thousands of pretty unremarkable individuals who want to do something that is collectively amazing.
Two days ago I did a local 16k/10mile run organised by a local club. Not only do my legs hurt like a beast, but so do my ribs. And my back – in fact everything really hurts.
So – It makes very little sense to deprive myself of sleep tonight and then try to deny myself beer, chips, chocolate for the next 11 months – and when you live in Belgium, as I do – that’s a challenge in itself. It makes no real sense to try to set myself up to run (stagger, walk, mince) for the fabled 26.2 distance. I’ve got nothing to prove – I know the route like the back of my hand – and I have no real expectation of getting in.
So why do it? Because I have 10 finishers medals, and I want another one. Because marathon day feels like Christmas when you’re 8 years old; because everyone you meet there is smiling and is on a wave of mutual positivity; because the journey home seems to take forever – but you feel proud – everyone knows you’ve done the race, and only you know how quickly. Because it’s unique and marvellous. Because I love it.
This is not an exhaustive list. These comments are to stimulate thought and discussion.
Opening Motif
‘What’s it going to be then, eh?’ is used throughout the novel in various contexts as the narrative tracks Alex’s life. This is a question that Burgess asks the reader, making them consider their own lives and choices. Burgess and Alex are interchangeable – ‘What’s it going to be then’ is an matter of demanding a choice to be made – a demonstration of ‘free will’.
This is, therefore a question to society in general. Society needs to decide on the direction it wishes to take. ‘What’s it going to be then, eh?’ Democracy? Dictatorship? Personal freedoms sacrificed in the name of ‘security’? Burgess said that the novel should not be viewed as either a dystopian or pessimistic vision of the future – but as a current, matter-of-fact take on the choices faced by both individuals and societies in general.
Burgess shows that we do, indeed make choices when we are young – however, we are also subject to the repression and control of older generations as well as both societal and state conventions and interventions.
Placed in the time-of-writing context of the early 1960’s, Burgess would have been aware of the rise of youth subcultures and aware of their conflicts. ‘What’s it going to be then, eh?’ seems to be a question asked of these warring factions and the society in which the mods and the rockers fought. What was, indeed, going to become of these people and their world. The upheavals of the time would certainly have asked questions of the establishment and forces of law and order. It could certainly be argued that Western society went through an irreversible change with the ‘birth of the teenager’ during the 1950’s, when the driving forces of popular culture were those who appealed to what was an effectively new audience.
After ‘rock’n’roll’ entered society a whole new level of consumerism was born. Suddenly there was not only music for – and only for – youth, but the same was true for clothing, film, transport – everything.
Young people were becoming less and less likely to do as they were told by their elders. Through the motif, it is if Burgess looks across society and ponders on where and what the events of the day might be leading to. (see also Youth Culture)
Authorial Viewpoint
By inserting himself into the story as F.Alexander, Burgess creates a ‘room full of mirrors’ in which he can use Alex to represent himself and present a sense of autobiography, or at least, personal perspective on the novel.
Alex refers to F.Alexander ‘another Alex’. When we meet him, he is an example of middle-class domesticity – living in ‘HOME’ to which Alex thinks is ‘a dreary sort of place’. ‘HOME’ is invaded by the young Alex – who F.Alexander cannot understand. The gang beat him and rape his wife in front of him. This humiliating and emasculating experience reflects the true-life event of Burgess’ wife being beaten and robbed by AWOL American Servicemen, an incident which induced a miscarriage.
Burgess’ inability to comprehend or make any sense of the attack on his wife is articulated in the attack on ‘HOME’. Burgess wrote the novel at a time of youthful rebellion which often found its expression in conspicuous acts of violence. Such acts would have been incomprehensible to the older generation – however, Burgess understands that although the ‘Young’ might not know why they carry-out their violent, criminal and anti-social acts, they do it ‘because they like to do it’.
When F.Alexander takes pity on the destitute and friendless Alex in part 3, he starts to remember who Alex is and what he has done to him. He feels angry and wants revenge. Is this Burgess articulating a sense of rage and envy felt by the older towards the young? By recognising his erstwhile tormentor, does F.Alexander represent an older generation that has felt held to ransom and threatened by the violence and nihilism of their children’s generation. Is Burgess suggesting that the older will always feel that those they have raised and nurtured treat them with hostility and ingratitude?
F.Alexander is eventually incarcerated as a political threat. Burgess here recognises that while Youth might have the physical presence and potency, they lack real influence and organisation. As Alex becomes manipulated and exploited by F.Alexander and those associated with him, Burgess shows us that the young are always being used by the older generations and any power to influence society will be on the establishments’ terms, not the forces of youth. F.Alexander is quietly disposed of and Alex is feted by the government. Burgess tells us that if the power of youth could be organised by themselves, then, perhaps, change could be brought about – but this is unnatural; it’s not how life goes – which takes us back to the whole concept of the ‘clockwork orange’ the idea that nature and its potential to grow cannot be artificially interfered with.
If the character of Alex is, indeed Burgess looking back over his life then ‘A Clockwork Orange’ is a simple fable on adolescence and regret. At the time of writing it, Burgess had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and given a matter of months to live. The diagnosis was wrong, however, there is a sense that Burgess uses the novel to explain a youth that was full of promise, yet diverted by negative influences and adolescent lusts and distractions. This is not to suggest that Burgess lived a life in any way reminiscent of Alex’s. Burgess creates and extreme vision but fills it with drugs, sex and deviant behaviour. Simply changing the names and the language separates it from any given time in history – but the message remains that male teenagers are instinctive creatures driven by base desires and thus they miss their chance to rule and / or change their societies. Burgess explains that while the young think they are in command, this is an illusion and those in charge will only let them have the power that they allow them to have.
Does the fact that F.Alexander is silenced by the government reflect a feeling from Burgess that he is not being listened to? That there is no point trying to explain all this to the young – because they won’t listen and will continue to make the same mistakes as their predecessors? If so, this is neatly expressed by Alex when he ponders a future with a wife and son. Alex knows that he will try and share his wisdom with his son – but the son will not listen. Alex accepts that this is the way of things; whether this is Burgess voicing a similar acceptance, or resigned frustration, is open to debate.
Alex’s Age
We only learn that Alex is ‘only 15’ at the end of Part 1. The natural reaction – and surely the one that Burgess intended – is of shock and dis-belief.
However, the way that Alex refers to his actions, especially the sexual ones, betrays an immaturity which is more in-keeping with adolescent sniggering than the expression of a worldly-wise alpha-male. ‘The old in-out-in-out’ and ‘the plunge’ betray a sense lack of sophistry and lack of understanding more akin to a conversation around the back of the bike sheds to the language used by all-powerful predators.
Yes, Alex robs with violence and combines sexual aggression with theft and destruction. However, a cursory search through newspaper archives (are the internet) will very quickly provide examples of all the crimes and misdemeanours that Alex is guilty of perpetrated by young people of a similar age; sometimes even younger.
The final line of Part One is designed to test the reader. The natural, shocked response perhaps indicates a lack of being in-touch with the reality of the world. Not to be shocked perhaps indicates a sense of understanding that even though it may not be palatable, it is true that those below the age of consent and / or majority are more than capable of terrible acts – and this happens all the time, not something peculiar to Alex’s ‘near-future’ dystopia. Burgess wants to remind us that ‘Alex’ as a concept, a metaphor for youth, is representative of any era one may choose to imagine – including the present.
When Alex tells us his age, this is as much a reminder as a revelation.
Youth Culture
The decade leading up to the writing of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ saw a well-documented rise of the teenager and their role in society.
Popular culture presented a new, young audience with role models that rejected conformity and inspired rebellion.
American films such as ‘The Wild One’ (1953) and ‘Rebel Without A Cause’ (1955) made icons of their stars, Marlon Brando and James Dean, respectively, with the former providing the much quoted line articulating, to a point, teenage frustration and a lack of belonging. When Brando’s character, ‘Johnny’ is asked ‘What is it you’re rebelling against?’, he replies, ‘What’ya got?’
Rebellion and rebelliousness became fashionable. By modern standards, it is difficult to imagine the impact of Bill Haley’s ‘Rock Around the Clock’ (1955) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgdufzXvjqw
And, famously – or notoriously – some cinema audiences in the UK responded by tearing-up their seats, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackboard_Jungle . This became part of the mythology of the ‘Teddy Boys’ – what could very easily be described as the first youth-movement to really exist in England, a certainly the first to actively oppose the status quo and offer rejection of the values and morals of society as a life-style choice.
The Teddy Boys gave rise to the ‘Rockers’ and as counter-point, the ‘Mods’ evolved from the ‘Beatniks’, the pot-smoking, goatee-bearded jazz-fans of the 1950’s. The two camps were very much at odds with each other in every way: clothing, music, choice of drugs, modes of transport – and it this polarity that Burgess seems to reflect in the style-obsessed presentation of Alex’s gang – against that of Billy Boy.
The Teddy Boys, Rockers and Mods all created a degree of moral panic and fear for the future amongst those older – and perhaps younger than them. Any sensational events would have given-rise to sensationalist head-lines with, no doubt, a cry of ‘what are we to do?’
Burgess realised that the apparent lack of reason and sense for the fighting etc was the whole point. The youth did what the did – because the liked doing it – it wasn’t meant to make any sense. The purpose of doing it meant sense to those involved – but they had no interest in explaining it to anyone else. A lack of understanding made it special.
‘Nadsat’ is employed to intentionally make understanding Alex and co. difficult. That’s the point. We are not meant to understand; no one outside the culture ever truly does. Burgess realised this and reflects in the way Alex and his peers talk. (See also language)
It is worth noting that Burgess visited Russia – communist Russia, the very model of perceived conformity an repression – and found the Moscow was having to deal with exactly the same issues of youthful rebellion as London. Burgess creates ‘nadsat’ from the Russian and perhaps proves to himself that youth are always in a state of rebellion, regardless of their geography.
Language
The language of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ is often confusing and acts as an obstruction to the reader. This is intentional – the reader is not meant to understand it because it belongs to Alex and his generation. It is confusing and off-putting, because it is meant to be that way, and it established the difference between the generations, but also highlights that fact that the young are creative and articulate amongst themselves and perfectly capable of developing a language all of their own – but one which, crucially – only they fully understand.
Sub-cultures always develop their own language and / or slang. Sometimes this is perhaps done to confuse the forces of law and order – but it is just as much a statement of fellowship. A shared language that is not universally understood is compelling and exciting for those on the fringes of society. It means that those on the outside will never, truly ‘get it’. By reading the book, we become generally conversant with what Alex is saying – but we have no idea of where the expressions come from – we can only guess – because we are not ‘in the group’.
If this seems an unlikely thesis, then consider how talk – and how, particularly amongst your own age, you can make yourself understood with half-words, incomplete sentences, questions and nonsensical phrases: ‘Cowabunga, dude’ – ‘totally wicked’; ‘mega awesome’. And so on.
This may not be a great example – but insert words like ‘wicked’, ‘awesome’ ‘dude’ etc – or, in fact any kind of youth-driven vocabulary (‘dench’? sick’?) into Alex’s spoken or internal dialogue, and they do not seem out of place. They fit and instantly make a strange kind of sense.
Sex
Alex sees sex as purely recreational and combines it with violent, dominant and destructive behaviour. Pinky views sex as distasteful and is revolted by the idea. (In this, he is interestingly similar to the post-treatment Alex.)
Both characters have contrasting views, yet both use euphemism when referring to sex. Alex is particularly juvenile (in-out-in-out) and when his youth is revealed at the end of Part 1 the expression truly seems like the language of an inexperienced, sniggering adolescent rather than a dispassionate and aggressive sexual predator.
Pinky refers to sex as ‘The Act’. The fact that he can find no other words suggests a lack of understanding as much as antipathy. The losing of his virginity features largely in his personal narrative. Pinky views this event as another level of his entrapment; as an unpleasant duty or task related to marriage.
Pinky and Alex view sex as something devoid of love or passion, yet unlike Alex, sex troubles Pinky’s conscience. Alex only forms a negative context when he becomes conditioned to feel this way. It could be suggested here that this is a social comment from Burgess – that societal views make sex a taboo and that expression within it is an awkward and embarrassing issue. It is perhaps telling that Alex can be some expressive and descriptive about his music and violence – yet can find no description for sex beyond immature innuendo.
Gender
This is an overwhelmingly make story. This I not solely because of Alex’s the first-person narrative but because the story deals with issues of masculinity, those of ‘being male’ throughout.
Women are presented almost exclusively as either victims as well as objectified.
Through Alex’s obsession with sex and instant gratification thereof, is Burgess daring to suggest that Alex’s sexual behaviour contains elements of teenage male fantasy (especially in the light of Alex’s sub-age of consent age)?
The women of the novel are not given personalities – simply roles. Those found in the bar simply serve as accessories to, or alibis for his crimes; those he attacks are no more than the focus of his sexual aggression and his domination and control of them.
After his ‘treatment’, Alex is revolted by sexual thoughts and cannot partake in any sexual behaviour. Is Burgess suggested here that man has an in-built shame in terms of sexual behaviour, or is he suggesting that without the aggressive and dominant side to sexual behaviour, there can be no sexual behaviour at all? When confronted with the woman during the prison demonstration of his ‘cure’ he cannot shake the feeling of nausea even when behaving in what might be called a romantic or even respectful manner.
When Alex does eventually reconcile the opposites of his psyche (i.e that sex and violence cease to disturb him) he is then able to realise that sex and love can coexist and then he is able to imagine a wife and family.
Through Alex’s realisation it could be suggested that Burgess is saying that when men are young, the thought of monogamy and stability is frightening – perhaps, even revolting? Therefore, Alex’s sexual aggression is Burgess’ way of expressing this. When Alex is young, sex is perfunctory – as he matures, he is able to see that it can have a greater significance and can be part of a relationship as opposed to an act purely for his own gratification.
Self-Loathing & Suicide
Both Alex and Pinky attempt suicide –Pinky commits it, while Alex recovers from his injuries.
Alex’s jump from his the upper-floor window at F.Alexander’s house (HOME) is in reaction to his realisation that he is no longer himself – and that without his enjoyment of music, violence or sex, life is simply not worth living.
Pinky’s death comes across as a perverse act of defiance; a refusal to accept the forces of law – or Ida’s natural justice.
Alex jumps looking for release, Pinky does so in the knowledge that by killing himself he will be adding to the intensity of his damnation – if that can be possible. Depending on which concept of hell one subscribes to, levels of damnation are certainly evident. Dante describes ‘circles of hell’ with the levels of torture and deprivation increasing commensurate with the dead souls’ acts in life.
Alex’s suicide attempt is a catalyst for his ‘re-birth’ as it allows him to revaluate himself and removes him from the manipulative attention of F.Alexander and his cronies. Pinky’s death is the end to a self-fulfilling prophesy. Pinky continually refers to his impending damnation throughout the novel and it is somehow fitting that he achieves it by his own hand.
Family
Alex’s family represent the parental fear of their offspring as the get older and become more powerful.
Alex’s parents cannot understand Alex’s rebellious nature and it would seem that they are more than aware of his criminal activities. However, the choose not to try and understand and do not try and curb his behaviour. Is this, in fact quite typical? Do parents actually hold-back from intervention as much as possible – especially – as in this case, to do so would undoubtedly cause conflict, tension and even violence?
When Alex is imprisoned, his parents replace him with a ‘perfect’ son; dutiful, responsible and caring – but not theirs. It could be that this is Burgess suggesting that to rebel against our parents is natural – that to do so is inherent in our nature?
Alex’s father represents the tension between father and son. This is an issue of masculinity, power and domination. His mother personifies the fear and anxiety that mothers have for their sons. When Alex returns – or rather discusses the possibility of returning, his mother cannot form words; she simply makes inarticulate noises of distress. It is up to his father to negotiate a return to the family fold ; a return that is very much on Alex’s terms.
This shows exactly what happens in family life; that children grow older, then assume the role of power and leadership within the family unit.
Alex realises this when he imagines a future-family for himself. He thinks about his future son and what he will try and teach him – but he knows that he will not listen.
Drink & Drugs
Alex, while a drinker (of chemically spiked milk – in itself a curious juxtaposition of the natural and the synthetic and damaging similar to the idea of the ‘clockwork orange’) he despises drunkenness and victimises the tramp in Part 1, citing his inebriated state as a reason for attacking him.
Alex sees drugs as stimulants not as vehicles for escaping reality. He craves and revels in the reality in which he lives – why wouldn’t he? He has no time for those who ‘are in the land’ but this also suggests a sense of envy from him for those who can find some level of transportation from their surroundings.
Alex’s stimulant of choice is, of course, music. He does not require much more, but sees the drugs as a refinement, something to ‘sharpen-up’ on his activities.
Later his antipathy softens towards those ‘in the land’; he realises the value of temporary escapism. As he envisions a family (and conformity) he appreciates how taking oneself ‘out of it for while’ has a value.
While the Ludovico treatment is not wholly narcotic, there is an element that is. Is Burgess alluding to the power of psychotropic / anti-depressant / mood-altering pharmaceuticals and suggesting that this is another example of how people can find themselves unwittingly controlled and pacified? Alternatively is the message a less sinister social comment – simply suggesting that while drugs / intoxication offer a temporary alteration and release, they do not offer change.
Pinky does not drink and dramatically refuses alcohol in the opening chapter as the doomed Hale tries to buy time and establish companionship in the pub. The rejection of the vice – a statement of moral purity, strength of character and ‘difference’ from the common man, swerves to highlight Pinky’s potency and malevolent demeanour – however, he eventually does take a drink and his reaction (‘You could lose vice as easily as you could lose virtue’) is reminiscent of his first sexual contact – that there is a slight sense of accomplishment but an overwhelming one of self-hatred and revulsion.
Deltoid
He is presented as the apparently benign and clearly ineffectual representative (or representation) of adult care, authority and guidance.
His very name evokes a sense of questioning who, or what he his. The deltoid muscle is a large, triangular muscle in the human shoulder. Is this significant? Is the name meant to have connotations of strength and support? Perhaps the ‘oid’ suffix – relating to ‘of a particular form’ (e.g ‘cuboid’ = ‘of a cubed shape’ is there to make the reader think ‘this sounds familiar – where have I heard that before?’ thus giving the character a sense of familiarity in an unspecific way. In other words, we have all met or well know someone like a ‘Deltoid’ – but we might not be 100% sure what a ‘deltoid’ is.
While Deltoid professes to care about Alex, he betrays a degree of selfishness through his comment that for every one of his mentees that he cannot save, it is ‘a black mark’ for him.
He scolds Alex’s dismissive and derogatory attitude towards the ‘millicents’ (which sounds almost envious – that it I, in fact actually he that fears them and he envies Alex’s carefree attitude). Yet, when Alex is arrested he seems to adopt an ‘I told you so’ gleeful attitude, as if he is celebrating his perspicacity and foresight, rather than mourning and sympathising with Alex’s fall – as someone in his position might be expected to do.
Deltoid reflects Alex’s later comment that there is little point in the older generation tying to guide and influence the young as they will not listen. Deltoid’s delight at being proved right reflecting the sense of this cycle continuing into perpetuity, but also begs the question of whether it is actually right to try and influence when you then are pleased when it doesn’t work out – perhaps an uncomfortable comment on authority and even parenthood?
Charlie – The Chaplain
Here, the name is again significant. Whether the Prison Chaplain’s name is Charles or not, is irrelevant. What is important is that by calling him as such, Alex shows a sense of humour and irony and it is another cultural reference from Burgess (such as the street named after noted writers, the reference to Oscar Wilde’s ‘Ballad of Reading Gaol’ and, of course – the music’). Using the diminutive ‘Charlie’ rather than Charles simply adds to the effect.
Charlie represents religion, it’s voice and views. The comedic connotations of the name perhaps present this as something disregarded and not taken seriously by society, however it is Charlie who offers the voice of reason and common sense when Alex is paraded to demonstrate his ‘cured’ state: and in a scene akin to the high-point of ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’, Charlie states:
‘He has no real choice, has he?’
As the whole concept of free will has its roots in theological discussion it is ironic that it is Charlie who raises the question and a comment on the other voices and factions who dismiss his observations and protestations.
However, the irony of religion exposing the paradox is perhaps not so ironic at all – with Burgess surely reminding us (as a Catholic) that if humans do have free will, then it is given to them by God and is therefore not something that mortal man can (or should) remove.
‘A Clockwork Orange’?
According to Burgess himself, he heard the phrase used by a market-trader and was immediately intrigued. It is, indeed an arresting image and one whose iconographic status has increased over time, primarily due to the similarly iconic film and the mystique surrounding it.
‘A Clockwork Orange’ is the ‘novel-within-the-novel’ as Alex notes that it is the title of the piece that F.Alexander is working on. If we accept a degree of autobiography or self-reflection in this character, it is arguable that F.Alexander / Burgess is writing about himself – that the Alex in the book, is simply F.Alexander / Burgess in their youth.
Enigmatic though it may be, a ‘clockwork orange’ is a simple metaphor for something apparently natural and organic, but controlled and synthetic beneath the surface.
The ‘orange’ part is significant as this is something capable of sweetness and nourishment, yet also has be the potential to be sour, bitter – generally unpleasant. In other worsds – a humaqn being – especially one still maturing into adulthood. Like Alex…
As Catholics Greene and Burgess both accepted the doctrine of Original Sin; the concept that since the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, mankind has lived in sin and that we are all the products of that sin.
However, Burgess himself argues that the act of original sin – what is known as The Fall of Adam is in itself an act of free will. In other words, Adam and Eve had a choice to act as they did.
St. Augustine describes the Fall of Adam as ‘a happy fault, that it produced so great a redeemer’ in other words, from ‘the fall’, the outcome is Christ. The Augustinian view is that without sin there can be no Christ; therefore the concept of good and evil seem to be inseparable and one cannot exist without the other.
This positive view of sin – and consequently free will is can then be seen in a more universal light. It can be argued that without Adam Eve’s sinful act of free will there would be not only no Christ, but also no human creativity and constructed beauty.
This idea is easily identified in ‘A Clockwork Orange’. Alex’s worship of Beethoven demonstrates the link between sinful behaviour and the beauty of human achievement. Burgess contended that Alex is a violent man – which is essentially normal and representative of the human condition – but Alex loves music, appreciates beauty and delights in the complexity and variety of language.
Alex’s powers of expression and the way he modulates his tone and vocabulary in the book reveal an individual who revels in his articulacy. Alex is different from the droogs not just by leadership, but by his superiority in the way he can relate to his surroundings. Burgess allows Alex the ‘free will’ to experience his world in a way that allows violence to assume an artistic value of its own and when this creativity / freedom is taken form him we see a character who is instantly less interesting to the reader. Despite the fact sex and violence are no longer palatable to Alex, his loss of free will simply demonstrate that to not have free will is inhuman and though we may abhor Alex’s action previous to his arrest, we are not able to take any sense of righteous retribution from the violence that befalls him after he has completed the Ludovico treatment.
Pinky is an example of the product of original sin and free will in its least attractive form. Pinky has no redeeming features, and despite what has clearly been a difficult upbringing that has deprived him both financially and emotionally but also starved him of affection his warped world-view shaped by little, if any moral guidance that his schooling and early role-models has created a person that we cannot feel any true empathy for. While Pinky’s past is not explored in detail, we are left with an image of a rigid and dogmatic spiritual upbringing in which idea that ‘you are sinful’ would have been painfully enforced.
Both Greene and Burgess would surely state that there is free will, because it is this freedom of choice that creates characters that they have created. Alex is the illustration of the creativity and capability for aesthetic appreciation that makes human distinct from the animals – yet is still essentially bad. Pinky is just bad. Pinky is an example of the product of sin breeding yet more. Pinky is aware that he has the power to make choices, yet his powerful belief that because he has sinned, that he is sin, that being him embodies the very idea of sinfulness. He is left with the destructive conclusion that there can be no redemption and therefore no point in trying to change.
Alex allows the reader a perspective on choice that Pinky does not. Alex considers change, he wants to be different and makes a choice to try and bring this about.
Pinky is sickened by life and all its attendant human acts, but he finds himself complicit in them – by killing Hale he sets-off a chain of events which weaken any strength he might have felt from the fact that while he was human, he was at least ‘different’.
Through the necessity to avoid execution for Hale’s murder he is forced to feign love for Rose and is forced into losing his virginity in an ‘act’ that leaves him feeling sullied and vulnerable. The series of potential traps that his actions and mistakes Pinky set for himself after the murder leave him dependant on Rose for his survival and the fact that he knows he is no longer in control of his own destiny force him to become the same as every other person he knows. Ultimately his suicide that combines both the imagery of a descent into hell through the fall from the cliff mixed with the burning Vitriol serves to illustrate the fate of a man who could have exercised his free will, yet ironically seems to accept his damnation and does little, if anything, to avoid it.
Alex makes the choice to have his capacity for free will removed. This a perplexing irony – he decides to have no capacity for choice and therefore becomes a different person. When Alex loses his free will, he is no longer ‘Alex’. It may therefore be reasonable to suppose that Burgess is offering Alex as a metaphor for mankind, that without the capacity of choice, humans are no longer the species that we know them as; that to be human is to choose to be so. Without the capacity to make those choices, we lose our humanity. The state of ‘being human’ may not always be a good or positive thing – but through Alex, we can learn that even the worst can of human can appreciate the best of humanity.
In answer to the suggestion that ‘there is no such thing as free will’, both authors have suggested that free will is inevitable. Alex and Pinky both show that the former’s submission to Ludovico and the latter’s adhesion to his Catholicism demonstrate that we choose to be restricted and that in fact it is our choice to be controlled.
Burgess allows the reader to see that by removing choice from a human, they become ‘non-humans’ and therefore proves that free-will is an intrinsic part of human existence. Greene provides, through Pinky and his hideously ugly life, a vision of humanity trapped in a pit of despair that he has dug himself. Pinky illustrates that while man has the choice and capacity for good and compassion, he often lacks the will to do so.
This then leavers a final paradox. Yes, there is free will, but as a human we have no choice in the matter. It is impossible to reject free will, because that in itself would be a choice – and to make it is an act of free will.
Burgess rejected the idea that ‘A Clockwork Orange’ was a pessimistic view of the future. Burgess viewed all men as violent by nature and that free will was in fact ‘a glorious thing to possess’ and that, in while the society of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ may have had futuristic overtones, it was not really a dystopian view of what was to come – but more of a fable of what humanity is, always has been and always will be.
It would be possible to view the concept of free will as humanities ‘sickness’ and in the case of Alex, he seeks a cure – only to discover that without it he could not survive – or, indeed even live, without it and that despite the imperfections that an existence containing free will has, it is infinitely better to be true to oneself than to seek artificial goodness – a situation that is ultimately false, unproductive and worthless.
Where does this leave the reader? Alex is intrigued by the book title ‘A Clockwork Orange’ after he attacks its writer. He later reflects that he understands this puzzling image better – the idea that something capable of growth and sweetness cannot be controlled, ordered, regulated and mechanised. Therefore, do we leave the book with a sense that a simple message has been told in an overly complicated and obscure way? What was Burgess striving to achieve through his experimental and possibly perplexing language?
Take away the ‘nadsat’ and do we have a different book? Certainly. The language permeates the readers subconscious and surely demonstrates a degree of the mind-alteration that Burgess alludes to through Alex’s treatment. Burgess demonstrates that people can be made to think differently – and the relation to free will is that the reader has chosen to read the book. Accepting the existence and meaning of the unfamiliar language is a subliminal demonstration of an act of free will that we did not realise we were making and while we may find it distracting and even annoying, the fact that we persevere with the desire to understand Alex suggests that humans are quite happy to have their brains ‘washed’ as long as there is a tempting and intriguing enough stimulus.
What is memorable or peculiar about Alex’s actions is not what he does – violence is, after all commonplace, it is how he tells us about it. We choose to take a greater notice of his most poetic and expressive moments – and this is when he is at his most violent and heartless. This troubling juxtaposition would then suggest to explain the associations that Alex makes to the beauty of Beethoven and the equal beauty of the damage and pain that he meets out upon others.
As a straightforward allegory or fable, ‘A Clockwork Orange’ is a simple enough story – the decline, fall and eventual rise of a vicious hoodlum who, when his intrinsic value as an individual is realised, finishes the story as the champion of society, rather than the scourge. Burgess creates Alex to show that humanity is flawed, but also infinitely complex and its behaviours indefinable; you cannot have a ‘clockwork orange’ it just won’t work…
Perhaps then, in a narrative that would seem to defy traditional conventions of character or genre, the ‘hero’ of this story is therefore ‘free will’ itself. Alex is simply its personification and because of the inescapable nature of or freedom to choice, there is a little ‘Alex’ in all of us.
I can’t claim to have come-up with this question – I heard it posed on the BBC (Radio 4) on a Sunday morning in February. The programme was investigating the question as to whether people who can afford to do so where morally obliged to give to charity.
The presenter outlined the following hypothetical situation:
You are out, alone.
You come across a shallow lake in which a child is drowning.
You have no telephone or any other means of getting help.
If you do nothing, the child, in all probability will die.
If you help, you will save the child’s life – but you will ruin your clothing at a cost of £50.
(Forget the ‘I will take my clothes off before I help’ argument – Just consider the question)
Would you help or would you do nothing?
Of course, you would help. Anyone would.
Now ask yourself this question.
Children are dying every day because they are living in poverty, because they do not have access to medical care, sanitation or a not protected against preventable disease such as Malaria.
£50 would buy protection through mosquito nets or would provide medicine or help provide clean water.
Charities are asking you to help. If you give £50, you will, in all probability save a child’s life. If these children do not get help, they will, in all probability, die.
So, if you can afford to give £50 to charity – yet choose not to – are you making the same moral decision as choosing not to help the child drowning in the lake?