Power and the Individual in Literature

Countless works of fiction have of course dealt with social injustice and the abuse of power. European novelists of the nineteenth century seem to have been particularly aware of the societal origins of interpersonal strife and personal distress: money and power (in particular their lack) are the constant preoccupation of most of their fictional characters. Twentieth century literature, on the other hand, is far more often concerned (no doubt thanks in part to Freud) with 'psychology' and 'inner worlds'.

Relatively few writers of any era, however, attempt to go beyond the immediacy of their characters' experience and actions (in my terms 'proximal' considerations) to try to expose the more 'distal' roots of the feelings and events they describe. The plot is usually played out in the immediate relations with each other of the characters, and solutions to social predicaments will be achieved (or not) through 'relationships'. The redeeming power of love is all too often seen as the only hope (even where it fails, as in some of the twentieth century dystopias like Nineteen-Eighty-Four). Perhaps 'distal' preoccupations simply don't fit with art: certainly when writers do try to lengthen their perspective to take in the origins of unhappiness they do so often rather at the expense of artistic merit. Following are examples of some more or less successful attempts to open up just such a perspective.

	Leo Tolstoy(1828-1910) As his literary career progressed Tolstoy became increasingly preoccupied with social, political and religious questions, to the extent in the end that he was far more interested in this area than in his fictional works. Of his novels, *Resurrection* is probably the one reflecting most clearly his view of society and its evils.
	Charles Dickens (1812-1870) Throughout Dickens's novels there is of course a tremendous concern with social oppression, injustice and abuse of privilege. There is not much sign, however, of any real political message: Dickens operates almost exclusively at the 'proximal' level, and even when, as in Hard Times, he deals directly with the heartlessness of Business, he is equally critical of political activity (in the shape of unionism). One impassioned passage in *Dombey and Son* demonstrates, though, that Dickens has no time for attributing social evils to personal 'evil' in the manner so popular with politicians these days.
	George Bernard Shaw (1856-1850) Shaw's plays seem dated now, and issues (as of prostitution in *Mrs Warren's Profession*) which were calculated to shock at the time no longer even raise an eyebrow. All the same, his concern to understand the societal roots of conduct considered 'immoral' and his scorn for the hypocrisies of power can still be appreciated.
	Robert Tressell (?1870-1911) Tressell, one suspects, would be pretty amazed to find himself on the same page as Tolstoy and Dickens, but his The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists (1914) is thoroughly Tolstoyan in conception, and remains one of the very few 'political' novels to ring true. This is no doubt because it was born of experience (of the painting and decorating trade) rather than (or, perhaps, as well as) ideology. It is still a parable for our time: the 'band of brigands' Tressell describes so perceptively, have merely increased in power and learned to thicken their smokescreen more effectively.
	Upton Sinclair (1878-1968) Sinclair's *The Jungle* (1906) was written just a little before Tressell'sThe Ragged Trousered Philanthropists and there are many similarities: principally in the graphic description of the privations of working people (in Sinclair's novel in the stockyards of Chicago) and in a commitment to a socialist response. The ideological element is less gracefully dealt with by Sinclair, who tends, through one of his characters towards the end of the book, to get heavily didactic. Nevertheless The Jungle is powerfully moving, and in fact led to fundamental reforms in the meat packaging industry in America (typically, this was no doubt more because of middle-class fears of poisoning than of concern about working people's conditions).
	John Steinbeck (1902-1968) As far as I can remember, Steinbeck resists any temptation he may have had to sermonize about the evils of capitalism in *The Grapes of Wrath*, but no sermon is necessary to move one to anger at the plight of his characters caught up in the consequences of the Great Depression. An important lesson of twentieth century novels such as this is that feelings (in particular of emotional pain) are not the special preserve of aristocrats and gentlefolk.

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Anatomy of Power