Nineteen Eighty-Four: One Ought Not To Think

In the next edition of what looks to be forming a series of book reviews, this blog entry will attempt to set out some of my thoughts on Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell.

Let me just start off by saying, "Damn, that's some depressing shit." I can't remember the last time I read a book that so completely and absolutely drained the life out of me emotionally. Other films or books may leave you feeling emotionally drained, but Orwell's dystopian opus leaves you feeling overwhelmed and thoroughly numb. Your mind is buzzing with a million thoughts, but you feel nothing except the dull throbbing in between your temples that is most likely the mere physical sensation of blood pulsing through your temples (as opposed to any actual emotional response). Once you finish the book, you are then forced to make sense of all those thoughts careening around your head and attribute some meaning and structure to what you have just read.

Of course with literary giants such as Orwell and books as profound as Nineteen Eighty-Four there are numerous interpretations that can be applied to the text. One of the marks of truly great literature is that it does not confine itself to one interpretation but instead serves as a stimulus for the thought of the reader. For me personally, Nineteen Eighty-Four strikes me as a tour de force of the depressing thought life of an early 20th century intellectual. Most of Orwell's recognised works deal with a topic close to his heart (socialism), and after finishing the numerous (and lengthy) passages describing the thoughts and philosophical development of the novel's protagonist, Winston Smith, it is entirely plausible to think that Orwell is writing from personal experience.

The tone and structure of the novel have all the hallmarks of a work by an intellectual; the disdain for the 'unthinking' commoners (called 'proles'), the bemusement at the fresh-faced enthusiasm for life enjoyed by non-intellectuals (represented by Julia), the inability to look at a situation in any other dimensions besides those governed by strict logic, and the correlating helplessness that one feels towards his own thoughts. Even the structure of the novel and its dialogue are rigorous in their intellectualism; a second read quickly reveals a rigid structure clearly intended to set out a logical argument just as much as it is intended to tell a story.

Without giving too much away, Nineteen Eighty-Four is a tale of one man's interaction with an ultra-totalitarian system run by the Party. And 'interaction' is the most appropriate word; to cast the novel in terms of 'struggle' or 'battle' would not be entirely accurate. While we sympathise with the main character, it is difficult to argue with the changes in thinking that he undergoes as the story progresses. The logic with which Orwell presents his arguments appears irresistable, and within the sphere of the novel one is caught up in the relentless march towards the bleak future envisioned by the all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerful Party. Orwell mercilessly breaks down objections and counterarguments through a skillful display of sophistry and doublespeak (one of the main themes of the novel), and by the end of the novel I felt that I too, along with Winston, had been changed by the relentless barrages of the Party's skillful brainwasher.

Yet somehow once you close the book and put it down, Nineteen Eighty-Four does not seem so terrifying. Once you set the book down on your lap and look out the window and see the sun, you get the feeling that the future is not preordained and irresistable as the Party argues (quite convincingly). The dull throbbing in between your ears subsides, and like finally making it to the surface of a body of water you feel sanity rushing back into your system like oxygen into the lungs.

Part of this sensation of relief has to do with your background knowledge of the work. You remember that Orwell was a lifetime advocate of 'democratic socialism', and that although he presents the doctrine's corruption and perversion as inevitable in the novel, he himself never gave up faith in it. You also remember that you are reading in 2008, and that you were in fact born after the year in which the novel is set (I was a 1985 baby). You take a look around and realise that you still love your family, that you are not being watched by a telescreen and that there is no insidious Ministry of Love monitoring your inmost thoughts.

You then question how this could be, given all the compelling arguments you had heard. You wonder how the world could have developed as it has, without the inevitable collapse into unremmittingly bleak totalitarianism as envisioned in the novel. At first you start to raise intellectual arguments, but you realise that the novel has already accounted for them. You even have the sneaking suspicion in the back of your mind that Nineteen Eighty-Four is indeed prophetic, and that sometime in the future the world will become just as the novel portrays it. Yet somehow, when you leave the house to meet a friend and have a drink, the thoughts and despair you felt after finishing the novel dissipate and you have a resounding conviction that the novel is just that – a work of fiction. More importantly however, that inner urge you feel pushing you towards the darkness and coercing you to surrender to the primal desire for power subsides, and you actually feel the freedom that you have to live, to love and to think.

In my opinion, that is the fatal flaw behind the arguments of the Party; they are true and can exist only in a thinking man's world. Within that world they not only have the possibility of existence, they have the certainty of existence. Yet the world that we live in is not the world of Nineteen Eighty-Four because it is not a world populated by cerebrals such as Orwell. The world also contains those for whom thought is not supreme, and who act on different motivations and methods of judgment. One might argue that Orwell's rigid logic has taken this into account, and yet his prophecy has not come to fruition – the totalitarianisms he imagined have collapsed since 1984, not progressed. And thus we arrive at the conclusion that perhaps thought is not the answer to everything, even if it can explain everything. There is a point at which rational thought itself is defeated by reality.

To those who have read the novel, the above paragraph must strike you as an astonishing example of doublethink. Yet there is a key difference; it is a type of doublethink that motivates one to move away from the world of Nineteen Eighty-Four, not towards it. Thus we arrive back at the title for my review: One ought not to think. What I have personally taken away from the novel is a true understanding of the wisdom in the phrase, 'you think too much'. As much as it assails logic, life (and now George Orwell) have demonstrated to me that there is merit in that statement. There is a certain point at which thought ceases to be useful, and at that point it should be abandoned. In this information age, thought is viewed more than ever as the source of power, but as Nineteen Eighty-Four demonstrates it can also make us slaves to power. The novel seems to encourage a view that there is no way to escape the pull of logic towards a destitute future, but there is – once you stop thinking, you escape the clutches of the drive towards the 'inevitable' conclusion. Perhaps if Winston had been able to give himself a break from the thoughts which tormented him, even sporadically, he would have had the strength to continue to live with his humanity in tact.

Whether this grasping for a way out is a futile act is not only unknowable, it is a counterintuitive question. For me, what is important is what it shows to each of us individually: that we have the power to escape the descent into darkness that often results from overly-rigorous intellectualism simply by disconnecting ourselves from our thought process. It is my belief that this is what has prevented the world so far from descending into Nineteen Eighty-Four: even if those in power do not realise this fact themselves, they have others near them who for one reason or another recognise that principle and encourage the power-holders to take a break from thinking when they see that thought is becoming unprofitable. Nevertheless, I won't argue with you about my conclusion. To do so would be inconsistent with my basic premise, given that arguing would be an attempt to find an intellectually satisfying explanation for the discrepancies between the novel and reality. No, it is about these very types of topics that the saying is applicable: One ought not to think. And so to buggery with this review, I'm going to get dinner.

Underbelly

Recently I had the opportunity to take a look at the latest and greatest offering from the Australian TV drama fraternity: Underbelly. At first I was skeptical, seeing as I've never really been able to enjoy any dramas from my own country to date, but after watching a couple of minutes I was won over by the slick presentation, fast pace and solid acting. It also helped that the subject matter was seedy urban underworld gangsterism.

One of the first thoughts that I had after watching a few episodes was, 'When did Australia become cool?' The so-called 'cultural cringe' that was such a topic of discussion within the arts community during the 1990s has all but been obliterated, and now we can all watch productions such as Underbelly with as much enthusiasm as we do shows like Law and Order or Resevoir Dogs. Somehow it no longer seems corny to hear an ocker accent, and the phrase 'mean streets of Melbourne' no longer produces smirks. Underbelly is perhaps the first time in memory that I've found an Australian show that could really match it with those produced in the US and the UK in terms of not only production values but also entertainment value.

A further exploration of these thought led me to realise that this new boldness is not just limited to TV, but also extends to the entertainment industry more widely and even to mainstream Australian identity. On the radio we hear Australian rappers tearing up beats with ocker accents, and we even have advertisements portraying Australians as cool and level-headed while lampooning what we see as the stereotypical ignorant American (the Commonwealth Bank ad with the renegade koalas, in case you were wondering).

This change has been subtle, and has largely crept up unnoticed on me. In my estimation it really started to develop around the mid-2000s when Australia's heady economic progress led to a newfound sense of accomplishment and a wholescale reconfiguration of national identity that saw Australia recast as the 'can-do' nation. Suddenly the pessimism and larrikin spirit that had characterised our country took a back seat to the work ethic and consumerism that were the calling cards of the Howard Government. For me as a rapper, the change is noticeable in that the current generation of young hip hop heads (who came up around the mid-2000s) are now invariably using Australian accents, whereas the slightly older heads such as myself are generally split between adopting American accents or retaining our Australian ones.

Initially this change struck me as a positive one; Australia was finally putting out the polished product that would put us in the top bracket of worldwide competition and allow us to hold our heads high. But I then realised, as I often do, that things were not as simple as they seemed. The complication was this: it appears that our ability to compete with the Americans has come at the price of adopting American values. Which really means that although we may speak with Australian accents, the function and focus of discourse are now more American than they have ever been.

Underbelly is a case in point. What is it that makes this series so compelling? If I had to take a stab in the dark, I'd probably say that it's the wanton violence, big-city ethos and the liberal application of sex and drug use to flesh out (no pun intended) the general story. The same things that attracted us to the American films that portrayed the flashy gangster lifestyles of New York mobsters can now be set out in our own backyard. Melbourne, Australia is no longer a small, quiet city but a bustling criminal metropolis just like Chicago or Los Angeles. Perhaps even more than the high production values, the thing that makes Underbelly seem so 'professional' is the subject matter: it's very much like an American gangster flick, only Australian.

The same can be said for Australian hip hop. While the technical proficiency and ingenuity of todays Australian rappers can't be doubted, there is a certain hollowness to the music. It is American in all but name. The style of the beats, the topics and even the lingo are all the same – it is American hip hop coming out of Australian mouths. Australia has arrived, but perhaps at the expense of itself.

Personally I don't think that this is necessarily a bad thing. I for one have always been open in my appreciation for American culture: the glitz, the work ethic and the energy. I think that there is no greater proof of this than my decision to stick with an American accent (which I still maintain is the international accent for hip hop) in my music, even when it has become deeply unpopular in Australian hip hop circles to do so . Of course I don't like everything about American culture, and I equally appreciate my native culture as well. If I had to choose a place to live, there is no question that I would be exactly where I am now.

The thing that I find about ironic is that a lot of these developments have been motivated by a curious mixture of the aforementioned cultural cringe (ie a determination to show the Americans that we're not inferior to them) and the strange love-hate relationship that Australia has with the US: we secretly lust after their lifestyle, but we also possess a pathological desire to look down on them. Well I can say, watching series like Underbelly and listening to Aussie hip hop, that we have beaten the Americans at their own game – in terms of quality, our products are just as good if not better than those produced in the US. But in the conflict between motivations the former has won out: our desire to be better than the Americans has blinded us to the desire to be different from them. As the cop Owen from Underbelly points out: 'If we do the same things as them, how are we any better than them?'

The bottom line in my thinking is this: Australia has always been great as a laid-back, yet hard-working place. Ask the Americans that come here to shoot movies or do tours: they'll all tell you that the best part of Australia is that life is so much calmer here than it is in America. Australia is rapidly moving up in the world, and the sleepy suburbia that most Australians remember from their childhoods no longer exists. That sort of a society is great for living in, but not so great for setting movies in. And I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to keep my actual life and the fantasy entertainment world that I retreat to every now and then very much separate. All in all however, this shift to a more American style of life may not be a bad thing; if we want to compete on the world stage we do have to lift our game. But let's stop all the nonsense about the new 'Aussie pride' – there is no pride to be had in keeping the accent but losing the soul.

Hell yes, I'm good

It may not look like much in this tiny picture, but as someone who has been slaving away for years on a small 15" CRT monitor and crappy $50 speakers (whose subwoofer bludgeons the life out of you with no separate bass volume control) I feel entitled to be happy about my upgrade to a fat 22" LCD monitor and sleek Logitech speakers.

Sure I'm around $450 poorer, but seeing as I spend so much time in front of this machine I figured it's worth the investment.

A Hollow Victory

For those of us involved in the culture, the current state of hip hop and its future trajectory are issues of fierce debate. On the one hand we have those who are in favour of recent developments in hip hop, pointing out that the art form has now outgrown many of its old boundaries and become much more democratised. Other people lament the current form that hip hop has taken, critical of what they see as a glut of poor quality music and a general lack of direction. The vast majority of hip hop listeners however are simply content to listen to the music that they have in front of them, and really couldn't care either way.

As for me, I can see some validity in both points of view. To my mind the home-recording and MySpace revolution is in general a good thing for the artform. This, more than anything else, has contributed to the democratisation of hip hop and allowed a whole new range of voices to be heard. Of course at the same time the disembodiment of hip hop from its native environment and culture have created the same dislocation of identity that an individual suffers, except on a much larger scale. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm highly critical of the current 'no effort required, get rich quick' attitude prevailing in popular hip hop and the prevelance of various 'joke' and 'spoof' rap tracks.

One thing is for certain: hip hop has expanded to the point where there is no putting the jack back in the box. As I discussed in my earlier post '2001: A Hip Hop Odyssey', hip hop was already at the crossroads as far back as the turn of the millenium. Now however it is starting to resemble a lazy twenty-something that won't stop sponging off his parents and sleeping over at his girlfriend's place.

I agree with the so-called 'underground' heads that hip hop has lost its way, but I propose a different direction. Most of these so-called guardians of 'pure' hip hop are in fact inventing their own permutation of the culture; original hip hop was not the highly-regulated, formulaic lyrical sport that it is today. Golden era hip hop was about more than rigidly relying on a formula of multi-syllabic rhymes and witty punchlines. Sure today's underground heads talk about the same thing as golden age rappers did (eg hot lyrics, sneakers, battling), but they miss what made those things so unique and special in that period of time. I can guarantee that golden age rap from back then was not as static as 'golden age' music from today is.

In my mind the future of hip hop lies in maturation and development. In other words, hip hop has to grow up and grow out of its cliches, blindspots and prejudices. And the main impediment to this development is not the artists (as these 'purists' often claim); it is the audience. Just as voters get the governments they deserve, listeners get the music they deserve.

A case in point is the debate surrounding Kanye West's 'Diamonds from Sierra Leone' remix. In my mind, Kanye's take on the track was witty, incisive and relevant. However most of the buzz around the track seems to be about how Jay-Z's guest spot stole the limelight. What is really disappointing about this evaluation is that Jay's verse just brings more of his braggadocio, something that you can get listening to any Jay-Z track. The fact that Kanye's verse, which deals with an important social and political issue, was overlooked simply because Jay's had better punches (which is debatable) is just plain sad.

Before I go any further, let me clarify a few things. Firstly, I don't think that Jay-Z's braggadocio has no place in hip hop. I think that Jay is one of the giants of the genre, and for good reason. Secondly, I don't even think that Jay is a one dimensional rapper who couldn't write about conflict diamonds if he wanted to. I personally believe that Jay-Z is a very intelligent, yet very savvy rapper who knows what will sell and what won't. He tells us as much on his excellent track 'Ignorant Shit'. The fact of the matter is that because Jay-Z is solely motivated by sales, his music is a perfect reflection of his audience. And that reflection isn't very flattering.

The reflection that we see in Jay-Z's music is that of a self-obssessed, money-obssessed, sex-driven megalomaniac who is only concerned with personal profit. The sort of character which, ironically, fuels illicit industries such as the conflict diamond trade.

As I said earlier, music is a reflection of its audience. Unlike what certain underground heads would have you believe, artists only have so much control over their content. Not only are they constrained by sales considerations and record label execs, they are also influenced by the culture in which they reside. No artist (myself included) is completely free of influence from the zeitgeist in which they write; to some extent every artist will cave into popular demands. Therefore the solution to hip hop's ills lies not in changing the artist, but in changing the listener.

If hip hop heads became truly well-rounded individuals with a range of interests, an open mind and a passion for excellence you would see music reflecting those values, seeing as anything else wouldn't sell. Thus the key lies not in blaming what we see on TV or hear on the stereo; it lies in taking a good look at ourselves and pushing ourselves to be the sort of people that demand a balanced and high-content musical diet.

If not, verses like Jay-Z's on 'Diamonds from Sierra Leone' will continue to be regarded as the hottest thing going around. However, due to the vacuous nature of his audience, Jay-Z's victory will be a hollow one.

Thoughts on employment

Yesterday was a good day for me. Not only did I find out that I've won the academic prize for being the top insolvency law student last year, I also received a job offer from one of Australia's largest law firms.

And I know what some of you are thinking: 'Damn, I really liked the guy...why'd he have to be a lawyer?'

To be honest when I first started studying law four years ago I had similar thoughts running through my mind, and I've only really set myself on a career in law for around a year now. My thinking is this: my skill set is best suited to law, and rather than pushing myself in community legal centres or social aid organisations (which I've done my share of over the past few years) I'd be better off working in a place where I can do good work, earn a good wage and put my money into organisations I feel do good things. You can laugh that off as naivety or self-deception, but that's what I've honestly concluded after several years of exploring my career options.

Plus, for a law student with my background (Arts/Law double degree, major in Japanese), there are only so many options. A lot of other law students with a commerce background have jobs in the commercial world, and many arts/law students move into human rights or government. I unfortunately find myself unsuited to any of those fields. And at the end of the day, it's about being to enjoy your work, put food on the table, take care of your family and have a little something left over for yourself and society at large.

While I know it's going to be a real slog for the first couple of years, I can honestly say I'm excited about going to work for this firm. People I know who have worked there have told me a lot of good things about it, and it suits up very well with my aspirations career wise.

All that aside, it's interesting to see how important employment has become to society and to me personally. My parents were ecstatic, and my friends were all eager to shake my hand and offer their congratulations (many of them could no doubt empathise with the grind and stress associated with looking for work). And personally, receiving the offer felt like having a huge burden taken off my shoulders. The fight for work is so competitive these days that your life really does bend around it, and with my employment settled I can enjoy my final year of uni with the knowledge that my immediate future is taken care of.

There is little doubt that our society (or at least Australian society) has become more work-focused over the past decade or so. I work part time as a home tutor, and the pressure I see on kids these days is even more intense than when I was their age. The stereotypes I was fed as a kid that the immigrant kids were hard workers and the local white kids were all slackers has well and truly been put to rest.

Part of me worries about the social implications of this development, as I've studied Japanese society quite deeply and am well aware of the effect that a work-focused culture can have on individuals, families and society at large. Nevertheless you won't find me dropping out of the race: whatever the truth of the matter, you need to be around and relevant in order to find out and make a difference. Whether I do turn into the sort of soulless, cynical lawyer that I feared I would become is yet to be seen, and I can only hope that the lessons that I've learned over the past few years stay with me in the years to come. However one thing is certain: for now, my path is set out for me and there's no looking back.