Thursday, October 30, 2008

Allegory and Inverted Morality in Graham Greene’s “The Destructors” by David Morton

No occurrence has had a greater impact on the nature of morality in the modern world then the Holocaust. This monstrous tragedy was tied to the events and figures of World War Two; yet it was a distinct event that contained implications for the nature and future of mankind which differed from those of the war. Graham Greene’s short story “The Destructors” serves as both an allegory of the Holocaust and a demonstration of the inverted morality displayed by the Nazis and their co-conspirators during the Second World War.
“The Destructors” is populated by a cast of characters who resemble important figures of the Holocaust. T., the leader of the gang, is a multi-faceted individual who reflects the character of Adolph Hitler. The charismatic boy is a complex individual with a sometimes surprising set of values and experiences. While he associates with a rag-tag gang of boys that meets every day in a bombed-out, nearly deserted parking lot, he comes from a formerly wealthy family and possesses a name that is indicative of a privileged past. Furthermore, the young man demonstrates a well-educated, refined intellect and an appreciation for architecture, unexpected qualities for a boy of his age and social class. Hitler was similarly multi-faceted and intelligent. Although a political manipulator and military commander of fearful power, Hitler had studied art as a young man and is known as a genius of rhetoric and public manipulation.
T.’s leadership skills and rise to power also closely mirror Hitler’s. In the story, T. joins the gang by attending a meeting at the beginning of the summer, and is the sole member allowed “in the gang without any ignoble ceremony of initiation” (Greene 112). This is due in large part to the credibility, confidence, and thoughtfulness he exhibits in his “brooding silence” (111). Such uncharacteristic poise and self-confidence greatly impresses the other boys, who immediately treat him with respect and awe. When T. hatches his plan to destroy Old Misery’s house and seizes control of the gang, he rises to leadership rapidly and nearly unchallenged, due in large part to having the most dramatic, enticing plan of anyone in the gang. Hitler’s accumulation of power was equally swift. In little time, the ambitious young German rose to the highest levels of his country’s government, earning favor with his enthusiasm, impressing citizens with his sense of confidence and purpose, and filling a void in leadership. Hitler’s systematic ideology and organized plans were more grandiose and appealing than those of any other politician, which allowed him, like T., to accumulate power through force of personality and an ambitious plan. Although it is true that Hitler was at times hated and opposed during his rise to power, while T.’s experiences a smoother, less tumultuous assumption of leadership, it is still accurate to broadly characterize both individuals’ rise to power as rapid and popularly welcomed.
Old Misery, the kind and undeserving victim of T.’s gang, encapsulates the state of the Hitler’s Jewish victims before and during World War Two. At the beginning of Greene’s story, Old Misery lives alone in the single house left standing after a devastating bombing from the war that “sticks up like a jagged tooth” (112) amongst the remains of the other houses. Such material success in the midst of devastation resembles the Jews of Germany who, during the economic and political catastrophe in Germany between the two world wars, still managed to thrive as their neighbors faced tremendous struggle. Unassuming and slightly remote, Old Misery is nonetheless friendly to the boys. Despite this good will, the gang brutally antagonizes Old Misery, mirroring the unclear roots and senseless hostility of anti-Semitism.
T. successfully traps Old Misery in the outhouse by persuasively brow-beating his victim with lies and false pretenses until he is able to attack. Once imprisoned, Old Misery embodies Jewish isolation, feeling “daunted and rebuked by the silence” (123) when he calls for help. Even before his entrapment, Old Misery lived in a place where “nobody could hear him” (122) with a “lane at the back [that] was seldom used” (122) and no help available from passers-by who would be too busy “hurrying home . . . [to] pause” (122). Even the character’s name relates to this isolation, as it alludes to the millennia of persecution inflicted on the Jews. The character of Old Misery certainly serves a number of other functions in the story, including a reflection of the physical and economic ruin of Britain and her citizens’ devastation and loss following the war. However, his isolation, modest success, and treatment by the less fortunate are strikingly similar to the condition of the Jewish people before and during the Holocaust and meaningfully contribute to the extended analogy in “The Destructors.”
A number of less significant characters reflect other participants of World War Two. Summers, the boy in the gang who at first enthusiastically supported T.’s plan, later cries out in the middle of the destruction “[w]hy did we start this?” (119). However, his sudden moral realization goes unacknowledged in the midst of the ferocious effort of his comrades. This character demonstrates the moral awakening of those Germans who came to a sudden realization of the baseness of their actions too meekly and too late to make a difference.
Michael, the youngest member of the gang, demonstrates a mentality that contrasts Summers’ belated awareness. When he is given a job cutting wires in the house, the boy becomes so consumed by his own role in the plan that he completely loses sight of the larger implications of his actions. This episode reflects the often-presented argument that attempts to explain the willing complicity of the German people in the genocide of the Jews by claiming that the German people became so lost in their individual work that they never took their noses far enough from the grindstone to look at what they were creating.
In the hostile, upside-down world of “The Destructors,” many of the characters demonstrate the inverted moral climate of World War Two. The first incidence of reverse morality occurs when Old Misery offers candy to members of the gang. Rather than gratefully accepting his gift, the gang decides that the offer must be a bribe to make them stop bouncing balls off of his wall (113). To show that they cannot be bought, the gang “sacrifice[s] the whole morning to the game of bouncing that only Mike was young enough to enjoy” (113). Instead of endearing the old man to them, Old Misery’s kind actions are seen as an attempted breach of their ethical code. Such a judgment is indicative of a deviant conception of what constitutes moral correctitude. Yet despite this strange rejection of what would normally be considered a generous act, the gang members display strict adherence to a standard of ethics that is, by itself, worthy of imitation.
Members of the gang also have a forceful commitment to avoid stealing that is curious, given their other criminal activities. Indeed, T.’s statement that they “aren’t thieves” and consequently “won’t steal anything” (118) echoes the general philosophy of the ragtag group of boys. In addition to this unexpected moral stringency, the young leader has a strong desire to be original and excellent in accomplishing his goal – even if that goal is the demolition of a house. From the very beginning of the implementation of his plan, T. carefully lays out the gang’s task and desires such a complete destruction of the house that nobody “could build inside again more beautifully than before” (120). Both incidences of unexpected ethics mirror the Nazis, who applied admirable dedication and commitment to the abominable slaughter of millions of Jews.
T.’s mindset closely reflects that of Hitler, who was scrupulously dedicated to achieving excellence, albeit excellence in destruction and devastation. He aims to avoid mediocrity, refusing to stop the work even after the house had been fundamentally damaged, since T. believes “anybody could do this [damage a house to such a degree]” (120). A fastidious commitment to excellence and thoroughness in the execution of one’s ambitions is extremely admirable. However, such a mentality becomes sinister in its detachment from conventional morality when it is applied to the unprovoked destruction of an old man’s house.
The driver of the lorry provides perhaps the most striking incident of incongruous moral reaction to a tragic situation. After the driver discovers that he inadvertently pulled Old Misery’s house down, he begins to laugh hysterically and shows no sign of guilt or regret. Such an inappropriate response to the situation demonstrates the driver’s complete lack of empathy, a failure to recognize the impact of his own actions and his own complicity in the destruction, and utter indifference to the suffering and plight of his countryman. The immediate reaction of the world community to the atrocities of the Holocaust resembles that of the lorry driver in that they showed an indifference and refusal to acknowledge the magnitude of suffering inflicted on the Jews, as well as their own role in this event.
The Holocaust was unquestionably one of the moral low points in the history of the world’s people that created an inversion of right and wrong during the Second World War. Greene’s story is chillingly discomfiting because of its presentation of a bleak, bombed-out world in which ambitious but morally detached young men have their way with a vulnerable and lonely old man’s most beloved possession. The fact that the reader can merely observe these actions, yet play not part in preventing them, involves that person in the story by making them as powerless as those who choose to do nothing to intervene and provides a glimpse of what can happen when evil goes unchallenged. Such a lesson against apathy is tragically relevant to today’s still brutal, destructive world.


Works Cited


Greene, Graham. “The Destructors.” Perrine’s Literature: Structure, Sound and Sense, 10th Edition. Ed. Thomas R. Arp, et al. Boston: Wadsworth Cengage Learning, 2009. 111-125.

1 comment:

Daniel's Demons said...

At the beginning of the term, I was unsure of what demands Writing about Literature would entail, since I had not taken any other English gateway classes previously. I found that while I learned a few brand new terms and concepts, the class more than anything gave me the opportunity to reinforce and refine my pre-existing writing and thinking skills while allowing me the chance to develop several new abilities.

When I came to class on the Tuesday of week one, I feel that I had a solid grasp of the rudiments of writing a clear and successful essay, fully understanding the value of a clearly articulated thesis with ample supporting evidence. However, through the discussions and critiquing sessions we had in class, I really came to see the value of developing a thesis that was arguable and was capable of producing opposition. Rather than arguing a thesis that is correct but unoriginal or obvious, I have become more comfortable with attempting to produce a unique, less clearly apparent claim. While this approach is more risky and sometimes less successful than sticking to a more surface-level reading, I now aim to make reasonable stretches and unexpected interpretations of evidence that make my essays unique. Furthermore, I have gained an appreciation of the value of concessions that are not mere straw men, but fair representations of differing points of view. This is, however, a technique I plan on improving significantly in other English classes.
While developing the objective of writing potentially controversial theses has made me a more vulnerable writer, I have also, perhaps surprisingly, developed an appreciation for writing with confidence, even on points that I may feel uncertain about. The value of this technique became apparent to me as I read the papers of other students and they critiqued my own. Through this process, I realized that I tended to give more credence to points that were forcefully presented, even if I questioned the substance of that statement. Overall, I have taken a new approach to written argumentation because of this class. While in the past I felt that a considerable amount of textual evidence was generally enough for a compelling stance, I now focus a lot more on the logical structure of my arguments. Having my papers dissected in class has shown me just how much the formal style of argumentation I use in my philosophy courses applies to the more fluidly stated assertions of English essays. This realization has already helped me more clearly outline essays and understand the flow of my own ideas, and I look forward to taking advantage of this way of thinking with hopefully increasing success in future classes.

I have also experienced a reinforcement of certain specific techniques, particularly through comparing my own papers to the writing of my classmates. Because literature is not conceived of, or written, in a vacuum, I now value the technique of relating the actions and messages in a given work to the outside world. The writer’s workshops demonstrated to me that even a mediocre paper can be greatly improved by mentioning the implications of a work in the conclusion as a way to leave the reader with a sense of relevance and importance. Additionally, by considering both my own work and that of others, I have developed a better grasp of the need for an overall structure that flows. While it is crucial to have a well-organized and clearly structured paper, writing an essay that also has variety in its sentence structure and a feel of effortless flow to it makes the arguments in the paper appear more natural and consequently more easily digested.

The process of reading and discussing the papers of each other was also an instructive feature of this class. Overall, it made me a much more careful and critical reader. For instance, I learned how to spot circular logic and sentences that sounded great but actually contained unrelated lines of thought. I also learned from these examples that the power of well-articulated language is significant; unclear or illogical ideas can appear reasonable, while excellent reasoning can appear truly insightful if the writing is smooth and precise.

Sorting through the large amount of feedback I received after our discussions allowed me the opportunity to develop the ability to separate helpful from less helpful comments. I came to realize that a lot of the specific criticism I read was fair and accurate. However, I saw that other comments gave me less to work with; for instance, if a reviewer fundamentally disagreed with my thesis statement, much of the following commentary would often spring from this disagreement. Yet if it this disagreement was the product of a differing viewpoint, and not a simple matter of correctness, there was often less benefit from the reviewer’s critiques. This new perspective helped me learn to differentiate between useful and less usable comments.

Overall, I feel that I matured as both a writer and a reader by taking Writing about Literature. The variety of writing assignments and the critical discussions helped me improve my ability to think logically, present sound, interesting arguments, and use the internal rhythmic ear of a writer while evaluating other essays in a similar way. After a long term, I’m glad I learned a lot and hope to continue improving as a writer and reader in future classes.

-David Morton