Set in British Burma during the waning days of empire, when Burma was ruled from Delhi as part of British India, the novel serves as “a portrait of the dark side of the British Raj.” At the centre of the novel is John Flory, “the lone and lacking individual trapped within a bigger system that is undermining the better side of human nature.”[1] The novel describes “both indigenous corruption and imperial bigotry” in a society where, “after all, natives were natives—interesting, no doubt, but finally…an inferior people”.[2]
To be clear, that last bit of that last sentence is meant to be read as hideously haughty and privileged… it is dripping with irony, a self-cariacature, as the novel showcases the craven nature of characters in all kinds of social positions, from all kinds of ethnic backgrounds.
The whole thing is meant as an unflinching critique of how colonialism ruins everyone involved.
I guess we could also maybe ask Orwell what he was doing in Spain in the 1930s, but at the time, he would again have difficulty telling you.
Turns out that when you join an internationalist anti fascist militia to go personally shoot fascists yourself, well, sometimes they shoot back, and sometimes they hit you in the neck.
… thankfully, writing exists.
I find it absolutely incredible that George Orwell, a man who has likely personally shot more fascists than probably anyone you’ll find on the internet… somehow doesn’t clear the ideological purity test these days.
And that is because Orwell, while literally shooting at fascists in Spain, also found himself as the target of a pro-Soviet, pro-Stalin smear campaign, which tried to paint him and his outfit as Trotskyists and also as fascists.
Apparently, this smear campaign remains quite influential, to this day.
Never ask a man his salary
Never ask a woman her age
Never ask what George Orwell was doing in Myanmar in the 1920s
He literally wrote a novel that was heavily inspired about his time in Myanmar.
You can kinda ask him yourself.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burmese_Days
To be clear, that last bit of that last sentence is meant to be read as hideously haughty and privileged… it is dripping with irony, a self-cariacature, as the novel showcases the craven nature of characters in all kinds of social positions, from all kinds of ethnic backgrounds.
The whole thing is meant as an unflinching critique of how colonialism ruins everyone involved.
I guess we could also maybe ask Orwell what he was doing in Spain in the 1930s, but at the time, he would again have difficulty telling you.
Turns out that when you join an internationalist anti fascist militia to go personally shoot fascists yourself, well, sometimes they shoot back, and sometimes they hit you in the neck.
… thankfully, writing exists.
I find it absolutely incredible that George Orwell, a man who has likely personally shot more fascists than probably anyone you’ll find on the internet… somehow doesn’t clear the ideological purity test these days.
And that is because Orwell, while literally shooting at fascists in Spain, also found himself as the target of a pro-Soviet, pro-Stalin smear campaign, which tried to paint him and his outfit as Trotskyists and also as fascists.
Apparently, this smear campaign remains quite influential, to this day.
Orwell wrote openly about the things he did throughout his life, both in casual letters and widely read short stories
He certainly wrote a version of it.
Tautologous