Some Heavy Stuff: Orwell, Literature, and technophobia

Up until this very evening, I had never before read George Orwell's 1984. Blasphemy, I know. I'm not entirely sure how I've gone 19 years of my life, maybe 6 or 7 years of my proper literature reading life, and not EVER read a book that seems, in hindsight, like it was written just for me. I think my reasoning in having never read it was simply because I felt like I already knew what happens. 1984 has had such a massive impact on not only popular culture (Big Brother, Room 101, etc.) but also on the way we think about society itself; everytime we describe a new law as Orwellian or bring up the ingenious concept of doublethink, we are referencing 1984.

So, I felt like I knew it all. Worse, I felt like I could pretend that I had read the bloody book. People would bring it up in conversation and I would, like a tool, go "Oh yeah, great book, great book, one of my faves", and then go home and cry into my copy of Dune (my favourite book, which I have read and re-read too many times.) for being such a literary liar.

But that's all in the past now. I have, in a single blogpost, both come out of the I-have-never-read-1984 closet and dived straight into the I-have-only-read-1984-once chest of drawers (a tighter and more uncomfortable squeeze, I have to say).

Oh, by the way, I bloody loved it.

When I got to the end, I thought not about the issues and themes that it raised, which were many and brilliant, but instead about why it was important for me to read it, even though I pretty much knew the gist of what happened.

The reason that I should have read 1984 sooner is that literature has an intrinsic value; or, more personally, the reading of literature by me has an intrinsic value to me. Its value isn't in being able to talk about what you just read to your friends, and its value doesn't even lie, as a lot of people think about 1984, in the issues that the book brought to the fore and the ideas it propounded and the effect that it has had. It lies simply in the act of reading. That very personal act where you follow a story from its beginning to its conclusion, experiencing the lives of characters and the narrative that has been carefully shaped by a genius in order create an emotional response (or, in a good book, lots of emotional responses!). By foregoing actually reading 1984 I have realised that I actually missed out not only on the incredible depth and detail of its ideas, which is impressive if often a bit longwinded and repetitive, but I also missed out on what I found to be a very interesting love story. Yeah, that was my favourite part of 1984. And I am a heterosexual male. I'm going against the current, people.

When Julia hands Winston that note bearing the simple phrase "I love you", my heart missed a beat. In this terrifying world where everything was regimented and devoid of emotion and Winston felt like the last human being in Oceania, here was another human being who felt the same way! The idea of two lovers in secret being persecuted by the rest of society is as old as storytelling itself, but it is still able to incite that part of our consciousness that does the imaginary fist pump and shouts "FUCK YEAH!".

Not only that, but I loved how imperfect Julia was. I hate love stories where the man finds some perfect woman who is amazing at everything and completely unrealistic. Julia didn't give a shit about overthrowing the Party; she just wanted to have lots of sex in a very animalistic 'fuck you' to the system. Brilliant.

Above all, 1984 scared the shit out of me. I didn't realise just how far Orwell took it. Well, I actually did, but again, the act of reading it and allowing that atmosphere to wash over me in a way that is impossible in no other medium (except, I would argue, video games, but that's another blog post entirely) was entirely different to simply knowing about it from wikipedia or by cultural osmosis.

I am so scared from reading 1984 that my enthusiasm for my new AmazonKindle (yeah, I caved) has been tempered somewhat by the fact that I have a gnawing fear that it's a telescreen. One day, I'll put it into sleep mode, and instead of the friendly face of Jules Verne (who I find oddly comforting) I shall be faced with Big Brother's giant visage and a terrifying voice will erupt out of those tinny speakers: "Newman 0394! Bend down and touch your toes! Further! FURTHER! That's better!"

See, we have to remember that the underlying key to the society depicted in 1984 is technology. Without the technology that Orwell depicted in his novel-the telescreens, the helicopters, the military technology, the advanced filing and messaging system that allowed the Ministry of Truth to work so effectively and, worst of all, the technology and the understanding of the human mind which allowed the Party to control people so effectively-without all that, Oceania as depicted in 1984 wouldn't work. It's a horrible thought, but as technology advances, so too does the likelihood of 1984 becoming real.

And, I suppose, to come sort of full circle in a roundabout way, that is why it is important for me to have read 1984. Not only to try and prevent 1984 from becoming a reality, but because literature has an intrinsic value that, in the world of 1984, no longer exists. If we let our appreciation of literature and the arts and other pursuits which seem, from a purely utilitarian view, to be 'pointless', then we may as well put those telescreens up ourselves. And in a very, very roundabout way, that is why I like my new Kindle, in spite of my irrational Orwellian nightmares. In theory, it will make me read more. And that can only be a good thing.

(By the time this blogpost is up, it will have been a year between this one and my last post. I'm fairly sure that won't happen again. But no guarantees. Also, apologies for the all-over-the-placeness of this...whatever it is, but it's an excellent way of procrastinating :) )

The Sound of Silence....

I just read an interesting story on the BBC News website about a government-backed bill in France that seeks to criminalise what they have dubbed 'psychological violence'. This is essentially domestic abuse in long-term relationships and marriages, but the sort that doesn't leave any bodily scars or evidence of any kind, apart from the battered psyche of the victim.

I understand the misgivings that people have of laws of this sort. Whenever a law involves stuff going on inside our homes, people tend to start running around screaming 'Big Brother!" "Nanny State!" and various other meaningless buzzwords. And frankly, I'm sceptical too. While I believe the intentions of such a law are noble, I am concerned about enforcement and a lack of evidence. Unless the French government really does become 'Big Brother' and puts cameras in people's houses, it will be very difficult to get enough evidence to prosecute. After all, this is psychological abuse, and so we have only the victim's word to go on, rather than any physical evidence.

But I have seen with my own eyes the effects of domestic abuse and 'psychological violence', and it is not pleasant. Not pleasant at all. It is bad enough that your partner is treating you like something less than dirt, but to not even receive the protection of the law leaves the victims of abusive relationships completely trapped and psychologically scarred. Clinical depression and other serious mental illnesses usually follow, which can lead to suicide or violent and spontaneous reprisals against their abusers after years of suffering.

I struggle to see, however, how introducing a new law on 'psychological violence' (which, though I do not know the French Legal System, would be covered in English Law under non-fatal offences against the person) would have any effect unless it is accompanied with new measures of enforcement and raising awareness. Unless in France domestic abuse would not be covered under the ordinary law of assault, I just don't see the point. What the French government should be doing is focusing on greater enforcement, better and fairer treatment of victims, and increasing awareness that these people do not have to suffer in silence.

(More to come as my research on the subject continues!)

The Dangers of calling 'Shotgun!'

Oh, I wish this was a blog post about someone who rode shotgun in a car and it resulted in their untimely death. That would be much funnier and, far less infuriating than what I am going to blog about. Quite a few people in the twittersphere and blogosphere, such as the wonderful Jack of Kent and slightly mental Constantly Furious, have already done this story to death. But I thought I'd give the thing a few kicks while it's down because a.) I've got nothing else to blog about and b.) I'm a coward that can only attempt to kill something that's already dead. For those who don't know, there was once a man called Paul Clarke (still is, actually, unless the death penalty has been instated for possession of a firearm...). He saw a black bag at the bottom of the garden, looked inside, and saw that it was a sawn-off shotgun (for those who don't play GTA IV, that's a shotgun that's been shortened to make it easier to conceal. For teh gangstaz, yeh?). He took that shotgun to the police station, after a strange four day lag, and was arrested. He was charged and found guilty of possession of a firearm, although today he was sentenced to a 12 month suspended sentence.

As a law student, I’m not particularly interested in the dodgy circumstances surrounding this case (such as Mr Clarke sleeping with one of the detectives), unless they are relevant to the law. The law on this matter is rather simple. It is a crime of strict liability, which means that it requires only an act, rather than most other crimes which require both an act and a mental element, such as intention or negligence. Thus, simply the act of possessing the gun is enough to make one guilty of this crime. There are, however, some safeguards. Firstly, the CPS has some pretty clear guidelines on when to prosecute, and won’t prosecute if it is not in the public interest.

This case, as some would have us believe, is not as simple as “Man hands in gun to police station and gets arrested for it!” In those circumstances, the CPS would certainly not prosecute. This is a case of “Man finds gun. Waits four days. Man hands in gun to police and gets arrested.” The crucial element is that four day lag. The Judge, when sentencing, described it as ‘very odd’. To quote Lt Aldo Raine:

“We got a word for that kinda odd in English. It’s called suspicious’.

From that four day lag, it could be inferred that Mr Clarke intended to commit a crime with the weapon, but changed his mind and decided to hand it in to the police station. Personally, I don’t believe that was the case but that is certainly not self-evident. So, I don’t blame the CPS for prosecuting under those circumstances.

Since possession of a firearm is a strict liability offence, there really wasn’t much that Mr Clarke could do to defend himself. He certainly had possession of the firearm, there was no denying that. His only route out would have been an ‘exceptional circumstance’; namely, the defence of duress of circumstances. In the case of Pommell (1995), a man was found in bed with a loaded gun. He argued that he had taken the gun off someone who intended to commit a crime, and was going to hand the gun into the police station the next day. That defendant was granted the defence of duress of circumstances, because he acted to avoid a threat of death or serious injury to others. In other words, he committed a crime to prevent a greater evil, and was excused for it (i.e. necessity, but the courts don’t like us to use that word…Ssshhh!). Unfortunately for Mr Clarke, he was not acting to prevent a threat of death or serious injury, and thus the defence of duress of circumstances/necessity could not be available to him.

And so, Mr Clarke was found guilty by the jury of possession of a firearm and faced five years in jail. At this point, the judge should have been lenient. He said it himself: “It is an exceptional case because you took this weapon to the police station to hand it in." Under the statute, the defendant should receive a prison sentence unless there were exceptional circumstances which meant the offence did not justify a prison sentence. Quite frankly, it is astounding that Mr Clarke handing the gun into the police station was held not to be an exceptional circumstance (even though it was called an exceptional case by the judge, although maybe ‘case’ doesn’t quite mean ‘circumstance’?). Mr Clarke should have been absolutely discharged by the judge, to signal that while Mr Clarke did commit a crime, he was not in any way blameworthy and that the proceedings were a waste of time.

The Coroners and Justice Act-protecting 'battered wives'?

The Coroners and Justice Act 2009 received the Royal Assent on only the 12th November this year, and so the full ramifications of the Act are obviously not yet clear. But I think that now is as good a time as any to take an analytical look at the provisions of the Act, particularly in relation to the law on provocation. And I’m not just saying that because I just attended a lecture on the subject by the God of Criminal Law, Andrew Ashworth.

The Coroners and Justice Act 2009 reforms several elements of the law on homicide (before you get ahead of yourself, homicide isn’t some fancy synonym of murder. It simply means one human being killing another), mostly in the context of the partial defences to murder. Under the Homicide Act 1957, there were two main such defences: diminished responsibility and provocation. Now, diminished responsibility has been altered somewhat by the Act, and provocation has been abolished altogether and replaced with a new defence of loss of control. In subsequent blog posts I will delve into the other provisions of this Act, but today I want to talk about loss of control.

What is immediately striking about this defence is that it clearly emphasises the conduct of the defendant rather than the conduct of the provocative act; the change in wording may not reflect such a shift in the law, but linguistically it is preferable to an emphasis on the provocative act (now called the ‘qualifying trigger’)

Provocation is probably best known in the public psyche because of cases like that of Kiranjit Ahluwalia, who you may remember (I say this as if I remember…) set fire to her husband in 1989. She had suffered years of physical and mental abuse at the hands of her husband, including marital rape (As an aside, that was not a crime until 1991). One night he was violent towards her, and so when he was sleeping she poured petrol over him and set him alight. He died some days later, and she was charged with his murder.

Her original trial was a farce; she spoke very little English and her defence counsel didn’t try very hard in pushing through on a provocation defence. You see, under the old law provocation only worked if there was a ‘sudden and temporary loss of self-control’. The longer the time-gap between the provocative act and the offence, the less likely it would be that a defence of provocation would work. It has been argued on many occasions that such a provision (an entirely judge-made provision, incidentally, which stems from pre-Homicide Act law and yet was confirmed as applicable to it) is inherently sexist, as it does not afford adequate protection to women in abusive relationships who may lose their self-control but will not react immediately but rather wait for their husband to go to sleep or lie down etc.

Under this new Act, things have changed. s 54 (2) of the Act specifically states that the loss of self-control does not have to be sudden. Furthermore, s 55 (3) states that the qualifying trigger which sparks off the loss of control can be fear of death or serious violence. This is a great victory for women in abusive relationships who lose their control and kill their husbands, only to not be afforded the proper protection of the law. This defence in no way justifies the conduct of the defendant; it merely offers them an excuse. A successful loss of control plea will reduce the offence to one of manslaughter, which gives the judge more flexibility in sentencing depending on the circumstances of the case.

However, one element of the provisions is slightly worrying. s 54 (4) explicitly disapplies the defence where D acted in a considered desire for revenge. While this is a logical conclusion, it somewhat impinges on the welcome broadening of the law achieved by the other provisions. In many ways, killings spurred on by a loss of control are all fuelled by a desire for revenge: the defendant wants to get back at the victim for being wronged. The key word here is ‘considered’. This implies an element of planning, but it is not defined in the statute. From a ‘battered wives’ viewpoint, it is unclear what the threshold for a ‘considered’ act of revenge would be. Was Ahluwalia’s conduct ‘considered’? After all, she waited for her husband to go to sleep. What about the wife who goes into the kitchen, takes a knife, and then sharpens it, before killing her husband. This is revenge, but is it ‘considered’? At this early stage, it is unclear, but I for one hope that the judiciary clarify this term in favour of protecting those in abusive relationships rather than enforcing a return to androcentric provocation.

The Ultimate Defence?

Steve Hagen wrote in "Buddhism: Plain and Simple" that when we are awake (i.e. enlightened), we are without intention. Thus, Buddhas cannot be convicted of a criminal offence unless it is one of strict liability. Now that I have discovered this, I do hope to see plenty of pretend Buddhas clogging our courts claiming they couldn't have had the necessary mens rea because they had achieved enlightenment.

Introductions...

In this blog I shall be taking a critical and analytical look at English law from the perspective of an undergraduate lawyer at the University of Oxford, as well as ranting about whatever else piques my interest. Some examples of some things I will be talking about: movies, video games, religion and secularism, literature, cake, bananas, and solipsism. Lots and lots of solipsism.

So, let's get this party started shall we?