You should never meet your heroes and maybe you shouldn't read their diaries either. On one hand it’s fascinating to read the diaries behind The Road To Wigan Pier, Down And Out in Paris And London, and The Clergyman's Daughter (but not the background to Homage to Catalonia as that diary was confiscated by the communists and is now in Russia) – it's a bit like reading Christopher And His Kind after Goodbye to Berlin – but I can't help being shocked by Orwell's rude remarks about Jews, women, and the working class. Much is said about women's inability to understand politics*, which surprised me as Orwell was a key analyser, an excellent thinker, a man with a supreme ability to cut through cant, propaganda, and bullshit, so why not grasp that low expectations of women, poor education (In Coming Up For Air, he mentions how in a middle class family, the son would be sent to public school but his sister wouldn't), lack of role models, focus on motherhood and domestic life would make women less interested in world politics.
* “It is not much use to try and form a union as about half the pickers are women and gypsies and are too stupid to see the advantage of it.”
“A sheep like crowd – gaping girls and shapeless middle aged women dozing over their knitting”
“I was surprised by Mrs S's grasp of the economic situation and also abstract ideas.”
“Mrs M as usual does not understand much about politics, but has adopted her husband's views as a wife ought to”.
“What is bad about Jews is that they are not only conspicuous but go out of their way to make themselves so.”
“In practice, the majority of Indians are inferior to Europeans.”
He also complains that a trades union worker living in a corporation house with indoor bath has become bourgeois and was shocked that Orwell had slept in a common lodging house (hostel). Orwell doesn't grasp (at this point) that the working class has many strata. He hates the north and the Midlands: Wolverhampton is “frightful”, Wigan “monstrous” and Sheffield fares no better with “appalling”.
Yet later on he rails against the sexism that ensures a woman does all the housework even when she has a job and the man is unemployed, and when attending a Mosely meeting, Orwell writes: “[Moseley's] speech was the usual claptrap; down with the Jew and foreigner...the blame for everything was put upon mysterious international gang of Jews....It struck me as how easy it is to bamboozle and uneducated audience....Moseley replied “all my money is invested in England,” and I suppose comparatively few of the audience realised that this means nothing.”
This seemed strangely familiar. Swap Jew for Muslim and you've got Trump or his pale imitator, Farage. Moreover, when reporting on a miner blinded by coal dust and on benefits, Orwell writes that the coal board is trying to cut his benefits by half if he passes a fit to work test. Sounds familiar, hey.
There is a lot of plus ca change…. In July '39, Orwell mentions that a bill to deal with the IRA provides for power to prohibit entry of aliens, deportation of aliens, and compulsory registration of aliens and emergency power to superintendents of police to search without warrant. Change IRA to ISIS and it's much the same – and the IRA weren't dealt with for another 60 years. Also in this time, right up to mid-August 1939, with war not so much looming as circling, the Independent Labour Party and the main Labour party were still arguing about unconditional or conditional affiliation.
In amongst the backdrops to books are Orwell's domestic diaries. which are somewhat quotidian, featuring, as they do details about poultry and vegetables. Entries from November 1938:
13/11/38 One egg
19/11/38 Two eggs
21/11/38 Two eggs
22/11/38 One egg
Then again, it's interesting to read about a male writer's domestic sphere. Even in Wigan, Orwell was noting down recipes for fruit-loaf and Victoria sponge and he is obsessed with the wearing of clogs, who does, who doesn't. I didn’t realise that the northern cliché of clogs and shawl was because the clogs lasted forever and the women couldn’t afford hats. And unlike other middle class socialists of the time, Orwell was prepared to put his body where his mouth was: living in slum conditions, sleeping rough, and going to revolutionary Spain and being shot in the throat, which led to his early demise.
At times he reads like Adrian Mole (“I notice that the Manchester Guardian hasn’t printed my letter”) and even Pooterish (there are many seemingly trivial details – the length and breadth of a ship he takes, income spent on tobacco p.w. etc). He is always observing. He and his wife go to Morocco to recuperate after being in Spain, but instead of sight-seeing, he takes notes: which areas of Morocco use donkeys for transportation, which use camels, the tools used by Jewish and Muslim carpenters, the flora and fauna, servants’ wages, the various newspapers (pro- or anti-Franco; part of Morocco was “owned” by Spain at this point), the cost of a pint of milk (6d) etc etc.
At other times, Orwell sounds like a Cif Commentator: “Since 1934 I have known war between England and Germany was coming and since 1936 I have known it with complete certainty.” Saying this, he seems convinced that a) Germany will invade Britain and b) that after the war, everything he doesn't like (adverts for luxury goods) will be “swept away”. You can imagine that had he lived that long, Orwell would have been annoyed when rationing ended. To be fair to him, he had lived through a time when consumer goods and the advertising trade had increased exponentially, and because he wanted a simple life, counting his eggs and milking his goats, he expected everyone to do without “chocolate and silk stockings”. Then he sounds like Farage: “The refugees make use of England as a sanctuary but they can’t help feeling the profoundest contempt for it. You can see this in their eyes even when they don't say it outright.”
In more plus ca change news, he notes that Lady Asquith had written a letter to the Telegraph complaining that most people have had to part with their cooks and live in hotels. Orwell comments: “Apparently nothing will ever teach these people that the other 99% of the population exists.” but at the same time he's pretty disparaging about ordinary folks, saying that “they will grasp nothing until bombs start falling.” He also maintains that “the people in inner London could do with one real raid to teach them how to behave.” You expect him to write: Wake up sheeple! Earlier on he says “good if true” regarding a woman who left London for the Outer Hebrides only to be killed in an RAF bombing mistake.
His assertion that the average person on the street was not interested in the war is quite interesting: films and novels about that time portray people doing nothing but talking of the war. He says that the leftist intelligentsia are completely defeatist, only wanting a quick surrender to Hitler. But he may have rejected his bourgeois upbringing but he's still got that middle class confidence. As well as predicting war, he states that “People like us understand the situation better than so called experts” and a footnote asserts that he once said that if he “could become Nye Bevan's “eminence grise”, we'd soon have this country on its feet”.
Although he does predict that blitz will become a verb, he is wrong about many other things, for instance he claims that “[the war] is manifestly developing into a revolutionary war”. Hardly, Georgie. He misunderstands that when peace came, people wanted to get back to normal, not go through a revolution or a civil war. When he doesn't agree with their tactics or war manoeuvres, he wonders if people in the government are actually traitors – you can’t blame him for this after witnessing the communists betraying their socialist and anarchist allies in the Spanish civil war, leading Franco to win, but it seems overly paranoid to think Churchill et al were fighting for the Nazis.
He contradicts himself: a year before Germany invaded the USSR, he predict that Russia will ally with England (Britain), but a week before Russia declares war on the Nazis, he's still avowing that
“Stalin will not go to war with Germany if there is any way short of suicide of avoiding it”. He also insists that: “The plan of Churchill and co is to give everything away and then win it all back with American aeroplanes and rives of blood. Of course they can't succeed.” – except they did. It's easy to mock with hindsight (and a GCSE in history) but it's Orwell's absolute belief that he is right and his impatience with and derision for everyone else's military strategy and opinions that rankles.
Later on, he writes: “Scruples about attacking neutrals are merely the sign of a subconscious desire to fail. People don't have scruples when they are fighting for a cause they believe in.” – but doesn't not having scruples make you as bad as the people you're fighting against?
We see his hypocrisy, not something you associate with Orwell, when he claims that everyone has an axe to grind, giving the examples of Indians only caring about independence, not fighting fascism, or the English pacifist being upset about the British internment camps on the Isle of Man but not about the Nazi concentration camps. But a few pages later, he says that it would be a disaster if the allies won the war at this point (1942) “because there would have been no real upheaval and the American millionaires would still be in situ”. Then he goes onto report the Nazis razing to the ground a village that harboured a group of assassins. He also states that England (sic) needs to invade neutral Spain – he has his hobbyhorse, the same as anyone else.
But he does have a point when he complains that the previously anti-communist Beaverbrook papers are now pro-Russian and the pinko pacifists are now gung-ho. The left had to get behind Churchill and forget his previous crimes against miners, suffragettes, anarchists etc to fight the Nazis, and the right behind the British alliance with communist Russia. British communists themselves had to swallow the Russo-German pact. This changing of face must have influenced 1984 – we have always been at war with Eastasia.
He is also funny, especially when he’s being mean about other people, to wit: “He said that in Cornwall in case of invasion, the home guard have orders to shoot all artists, I said that in Cornwall that would be for the best.”
“Atlee reminds me of nothing so much as a dead fish, before it has had time to stiffen.”
The footnotes are excellent, explaining semi-forgotten people from history (Ernst Thaelman,
Buenaventura Durutti, Ellen Wilkinson, Subhas Chandra Bose, Battling Siki, the improbably named Admiral Sir Reginald Aylmer Ranfurley Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax) and translating money into today's prices – the aforementioned family on benefits, along with a 15 year old miner, plus lodger and mother were living on £150 a week in today's money.
His diary doesn't mention the incoming Labour government or the setting up of the NHS or the post-war social contract, but at any rate, he eschews the free hospital for a private sanatorium for his dying days, noting in his diary the routines and the costs. Which pretty much sums him up.