The young men dressed as droogs seemed to confirm the charge, though of course it is one thing to imitate a form of dress and quite another to imitate behavior. Still, even a merely sartorial identification with psychopathic violence shocked me, for it implied an imaginative sympathy with such violence; and seeing those young men outside the theater was my first intimation that art, literature, and ideas might have profound—and not necessarily favorable—social consequences.
That is for the chattering Leftist academics who love to ejaculate over violence as an expression of free will - the violence of which they themselves are incapable and by which they are fascinated as voyeurs - but this for me has never been the interest in the novel, which I view as indulgent in a seedy kind of way.
I heard talk in the s of the possibility of getting these young thugs and not putting them in jail, because jails were needed for professional criminals, but rather putting them through a course of conditioning, turning them in effect into clockwork oranges, not - no longer - organisms full of sweetness and colour and life like oranges, but machines.
I feared the possibility that the state was all too ready to start taking over our brains and turning us into good little citizens without the power of choice.
Yet it is difficult to hold Burgess up as a literary hero, for, like his contemporary J G Ballard, Burgess is one of those creamy bourgeois types fascinated by the violence of which he is incapable.
On the one hand, the Ludovico Technique is an unwitting satire on television and drug-taking and how the ultra-violence on screen and pacification through medication has reduced many in the West to voyeurs incapable of violence themselves. It is a simple form of Pavlovian conditioning that so obviously works in the real world.
Yet equally, it is an unwitting satire on Burgess himself. While he is conscious of the metafictional aspect of the character F. It seems very much as though he had a masochistic victim complex, as borne out in his writing, to which the author Colin Wilson also attested.
Such writers as Burgess and Ballard remind me of the corrupt Roman spectator at the arena fascinated by the gladiators from barbarous countries.
On the one hand, such as Burgess and Ballard also claim to abhor state power, and yet simultaneously support it in the state exercising terror indirectly via false rebellions and revolutions in which only the populace end up living in fear of roaming gangs.
This was the case in the Soviet Union, where gangs were allowed to roam and terrorise ordinary people by a state that denied their existence in any meaningful sense. Even now, so-called historians, who are overwhelmingly Marxian, deny the Soviet Union had a youth gang culture, yet this contradicts the findings of Burgess himself, who went on a trip to the Soviet Union with his wife inwhich was part of the inspiration for the novel.
Alexander Solzhenitsyn also talked about political crimes being dealt with far more harshly by the state than regular crimes.
Does this all sound familiar? I think whether deliberately because of his liberalism or otherwise, Burgess missed the point about the relationship between state power and gangs. The more terrorised a population is by street-level violence in a socialist country, where the population has come to suckle on the state teat, the more they look to the state to provide answers.
The violence is thus tacitly approved of by the state to keep the masses dependent on the state. Witness the way the politicians in the West have encouraged alien youthful populations anagonistic to their own to settle in our countries and antagonise them more than is necessary into violence against the host population through the media and pseudo-academia.
The masses know this and deny it to themselves at the same time.
It demonstrates a victim mentality not because of outright fear of the state, but because the victims have become psychologically dependent on the bully. Then there are those, especially in the so-called intelligentsia, who become apologists for the alien aggressive gangs themselves.
The more and more outrageous the crimes against the host population, the more the pseudo-intelligentsia sympathise with them. This is at the heart of the cancer of post-Enlightenment Western culture; the culture bearers have become self-indugent and narcissistic boors, borne of their cult of atomised individualism.
Take note, Jordan Peterson!
And yet also logical, because here again Burgess is defending his aggressors, his bullies yet again. But to return to the point: Does A Clockwork Orange do this? The Ayn Rand acolytes of the cult of atomised individualism would say yes, but in a simultaneously globalised and atomised way in which everything is rendered meaningless.
If the book is for the betterment of an atomised individual, then the book is for Burgess himself, as he infers. If the book is for the betterment of everyone, then the book is for no one of any specificity and has to be so vague as to offer nobody nothing.
So it is with most writing by White Europeans in the present age.
What lessons can we draw from the novel?Find great deals on eBay for ludovico technique. Shop with confidence. In his introduction, Blake Morrison situates A Clockwork Orange within the context of Anthony Burgess's many other works, explores the author's unhappiness with the Stanley Kubrick film version, analyses the composition of the Nadsat argot spoken by Alex and his droogs, and examines the influences on Burgess's unique, eternally original style.
A Clockwork Orange is a dystopian satirical black comedy novel by English writer Anthony Burgess, published in It is set in a near future English society featuring a subculture of extreme youth violence. The teenage protagonist, Alex, narrates his violent exploits and his experiences with state authorities intent on reforming him.
The book is partially written in a Russian-influenced Author: Anthony Burgess. A Clockwork Orange; Edinburgh Fringe; W hats it going to be then, eh? Little Alex is charming, clever and sophisticated.
Shes also a callous thug with a thing for amphetamine-laced milk and lashings of the old ultra-violence. But just how should the state deal with criminals like Alex?
A shocking new treatment called the Ludovico Technique. A Clockwork Orange is a reading experience unlike any other.
Set in a dystopian future England, the novel is narrated in Nadsat, Burgess’s brilliantly conceived argot, made up partly of. While Alex lies unconscious in the hospital after his jump, the Minister of the Interior apparently orders doctors to undo Ludovico's Technique on him, restoring him to .