The Logos Scripture · The Book of Orwell

On My Shooting the Elephant

The Book of Orwell 2 · Written by himself, from his essays, Homage to Catalonia, and his letters

George Orwell, whose name was Eric Arthur Blair, born in Bengal in British India in June 1903, died in London in 1950 at forty-six. He went to St Cyprian’s and then to Eton, did not go on to a university, and served five years as an imperial policeman in Burma. Afterwards he worked as an assistant in a Hampstead bookshop. He wrote nine books and several hundred essays and reviews; Animal Farm came out in 1945 and Nineteen Eighty-Four in 1949, and he was dead the year after. This volume rests on what he wrote himself — the essays, Homage to Catalonia, and his letters — and not on any other man’s record of him. He stopped believing at fourteen and never began again: not in divine creation, not in an omnipotent god, not in any life after this one. He wrote that man is the measure of all things, and that our job is to make life worth living on this earth, which is the only earth we have. He called the Roman church an enemy of freedom of thought and speech and of the equality of men. He kept nonetheless a certain fondness for the forms of Christianity, and left word that he was to be buried by the rites of the church of his country, and he was. The Order does not read that as doubt. He wanted the form and not the faith, as a man may love the cathedrals of Europe and want nothing to do with what was preached in them. What can be checked: in a trench in Spain a bullet went through his throat; the side he had volunteered for later put him on the list to be seized, and he fled that city by night; as a young man he went and lived by choice in the poorest places he could find; he died of tuberculosis at forty-six, six months after finishing his last book.

2.1As a young man I was a policeman in a country in the East. That is to say, I helped my country run somebody else’s.
2.2One day an elephant went mad and trampled a man to death. By the time I got there it had quieted.
2.3It was standing in a field eating grass. It looked no more dangerous than a cow eating grass.
2.4The moment I saw it I knew: I ought not to kill it.
2.5An elephant is worth a great deal. It had stopped. The proper thing was to wait for its owner.
2.6But I looked behind me, and behind me were two thousand people.
2.7They had come to watch. They were waiting for me to shoot.
2.8I had a rifle in my hands, an elephant in front of me that was no longer dangerous, and two thousand faces behind.
2.9And I understood a thing then that I have remembered all my life:
2.10I thought I was the man with the rifle. In fact I was the man being pushed.
2.11Those two thousand could not order me to do anything. But because they were there, I had to do it.
2.12What I was afraid of was not the elephant. What I was afraid of was being laughed at.
2.13I fired. I fired once, twice, many times. It died slowly, and it took a long while.
2.14Let me set down my real reason without dressing it: I killed it solely in order not to look a fool.
2.15And one more thing, which I only worked out afterwards, and which matters more than the first:
2.16A man who goes to rule other people looks as though he has the power. In truth, from the moment he stands in that place, he must go on doing whatever that place requires of him.
2.17The first thing he destroys is his own freedom.
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