The nature of, and the purpose for, the violence in this chapter is signified by the institution in which it takes place: a prison. These prisoners, presumably perpetrators of terrible crimes, are socially crippled, and are looking for something to provide them with structure within the cell walls: violence is their only escape. When Burgess uses such intensely graphic details, he is commenting on the nature of punishment (the “Question of Punishment” was in Burgess’ day, and is still today, subject to fierce debate). Either Alex and his cellmates do not see the consequences of their actions, or they see it as a case of not being able to be punished for it further, since they are already in the worst place they could be. In fact, many would condone the violence in this chapter for moral purposes, because the victim is actually a prisoner himself – somebody that maybe deserves what is coming to him.
- How does Burgess express individual and social brutality in the novel as a whole?
Throughout the novel Burgess uses physical violence to emphasise a point. But less obvious and perhaps more important is the use of social and psychological brutality by certain people and institutions.
The most important example of psychological brutality is Ludovico’s Technique. The government, in an effort to “cure” the lust for graphic violence, is using graphic violence. It is fighting fire with fire. Burgess has little sympathy with the government, and portrays it as clinical, faceless and unfeeling. Ludovico’s Technique even has an element of physical violence – the holding back of eyelids and the injections are brutal in the extreme. But mostly, it causes psychological damage. Whereas Alex used a “britva” for penetration of the skin and body, Ludovico’s Technique is being used by the government as a weapon to penetrate the mind. In effect, they are both efforts to control the victim.
It is interesting how Burgess forces our perception of brutality to change when he uses different people as victims and perpetrators in different parts of the book. The most obvious example of this is Alex. During the first half he is a brutal and violent thug, and despite him being the protagonist, the reader has little sympathy. Yet when he is the victim, particularly of the obsessed author of A Clockwork Orange, one cannot help but feel something.
The patron of the library is also a good example. When he is the victim early on in the book, he is harmless and weak, and the attack on him is brutal. It signifies the downfall of literature and its reduced status in Alex’s world. Yet when Alex is the victim of this same man and his cronies, it is a symbol of his downfall in the real world. The violence is still brutal, and one still feels pity for Alex. But in both cases it means something. And again, it also raises the question of punishment. Should a victim seek revenge on his attacker if he ever has the chance?
There is only one group in the book that does not resort to any kind of brutality, individual, social or psychological. This group is the Church, represented by the “charlie”. Instead, the Church issues various philosophical arguments on the importance of choice. It is almost as if Burgess intends the Church to be the mediator in the battle between the individual and the government. The Church is the only entity that judges in the novel, and Burgess portrays it as being wise. Yet, as indicated by the chaplain’s lack of power concerning the Ludovico Technique, Burgess also portrays the Church as being weak – a neutral body that is caught in the crossfire.
Burgess subjects everybody in the book to violence of some kind, and most characters become “attackers”, whether psychologically or physically. The police are seen as corrupt in two instances: both when they beat Alex up after he is caught, and also later on in the book, on a more sinister level, when Alex’s traitor ex-friends, now policemen, beat him badly. Even the detestable PR Deltoid, who is pathetically unaware of what Alex is up to early in the book, becomes a shocking character when he simply spits on Alex – one might say that this is as bad as actual physical brutality. Burgess has a good reason for making everybody participate in the brutality: his book is essentially about the nature of choice, but is also a comment on the nature of the human being. Everyone has a morbid fascination with violence, everybody commits a violent act (not necessarily physical), and essentially, when all is said and done, every person is born with some kind of inherent “evil” that becomes apparent at least once later in life.
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How far do you agree with the assertion that A Clockwork Orange glorifies violence?
At first glance it certainly seems that Burgess uses unnecessary imagery and descriptions of an extraordinary length in order to glorify violence. One only needs to count the times the word “krovvy” is used, or how many “tolchocks” are given. Even the Russian word for “good” has been corrupted to have violent undertones: “horrorshow” sounds as if it could be a description of this entire novel.
In addition, the use of music – pieces of music that are considered as masterful works of art – seems to turn the violence into an art form as well. Not content with this, Burgess also employs complex choreography to fortify this image. One feels that the entire novel could be turned into a ballet – and this is clearly glorification.
But if one analyses the purpose of the glorification, one can see why it is a necessary ingredient in the book. While the violence is always exaggerated, it is clear that it always contains either a moral message or a comment on society, whether it is ours, Burgess’ or Alex’s
One can quote numerous examples. The attack on the “prof-type chelloveck” is a comment on literature and its status. The attack on the old cat woman and her response could be commenting on gender or age, but it is also significant that she is from “Oldtown” – she is of the old world – in other words, our world. And the murder of the prisoner is a comment on the question of punishment. It is also worth noting that all of these “victims” become, or were, attackers themselves.
This brings us to Alex. There are two distinct Alex characters in the book: during the first half he is the perpetrator; during the second half he is the victim. If one were to simply read the first half of the novel and leave the rest, one would certainly wholeheartedly agree with the assertion that the novel glorifies violence, for no apparent purpose. Alex, as the protagonist and the narrator, depicts the violence in his way – he enjoys it, so he tries to make the reader see it that way, too.
But if one has read the whole novel one can make a more balanced evaluation. Alex as the victim is very different from the other Alex. He is still the protagonist; he is still the narrator. Yet all glorification is gone: no choreography, no music. The violent is entirely repulsive – to us as it is to Alex. We feel for Alex – we can imagine what he goes through. And this is what is important. While Burgess starts out glorifying violence, he does it with a distinct end in mind: he wants us to be even more repulsed during the second half of the novel, so that he can get his message across. In reality, the second half completely negates the effect of the first half. Therefore, although I agree with the assertion that Burgess glorifies violence in the book, I do not believe that he glorifies it in his mind, or that he intends to glorify it in ours.
