Animal Farm Rhetorical Analysis

Author George Orwell’s seminal novel is clearly an allegory as it tells of a symbolic society of farm animals some say in heavy-handed and hammer-like fashion which repeats events just before the Russian Revolution of 1917 and on into the Stalin Era of the Soviet Union.Orwell’s original inspiration placed the able, ardent stable of activist animals eternally on the farm: He once saw a young boy on a cart, whipping his hardworking horse. That was when, Orwell stated, he saw how “men exploit animals in much the same way the rich exploit the proletariat”. This, in a nutshell, stands as the purpose of Animal Farm, in all its gory glory and less-than-beneficent beauty.

2. Assuredly, the cohesive coupling of “logos” and “pathos” provide the most

comprehensive components of rhetoric couched within the penumbra of Animal Farm, the former being building blocks of logic and the latter righteously representing the pillars of bittersweet emotion. Even greater pathos is painted by the proverbial “road-to-hell-is-paved-with-good-intentions” mindset of most animal characters, who seemingly strive toward a Great Society and a better world, but bombastically – and less than boldly – “bomb out” in this quintessential quest, as colloquial characterization so succinctly says.

3.

First and foremost, such a dry, arguably dull non-fictional rendering would not be nearly as interesting; furthermore, far and away, Orwell’s intent was not to hold his readers’ interest, but to hold their feet to the fire. Via his mighty pen, the author clearly intended to issue a clarion call to stand roundly against communism, in its most pure form. That, in and of itself, is the be-all and end-all of Animal Farm’s rumblings and grumblings. Critics who might imprudently labor to denigrate or diminish the message to mere squeals from pigs or grunts from horses only succeed in downgrading their own credibility, not Orwell’s. His eloquence, abidingly, still rings through, and his message is immutable. Through it all, Orwell sought to prosaically paint communism as a human tragedy, not a historical

one.

4. Orwell’s instructive intent was highly successful; in short, he got his point across. He ambitiously and aggressively strove, in his own words, “to fuse political purpose and artistic purpose into one whole”. Looking with scholarly scrutiny at the holism and “holy terror” of Animal Farm’s mighty message and impactful mantra, it is difficult to even spot the welding imprints or any residual gaps where the story so seamlessly comes together. In the telling of what some might brand a “tall tale,” Orwell assuredly tells it well, and in razor-sharp honed and tightly tailored style; the yarn he weaves, in the end, is certainly not meandering, and the trip he takes to Animal Farm is a one-way road to redemption, if the reader buys-in as far as his creed of warning stands like a silent sentinel at the expansive farm gate. Orwell eloquently and enduringly compels those who would “innocently” or naively enter into communism to turn away, or turn back. In this regard, Orwell acts as the last gatekeeper.

Essay:

In cogently, comprehensively comparing Orwell’s insightful novella to Niemoller’s equally incisive poem, the able academic analyst can pragmatically conclude the former was wielded heavily like a hammer and the latter holistically, even stylistically, like a skillful surgeon’s scalpel. Further, the targets rest differentially as well, with Orwell attacking the burgeoning bedrock of communism and Niemoller eloquently extolling the virtues of standing stridently (and stoically) against fascism and the rise of the nefarious Nazi Party. In many clouds of comprehension, the sole abiding commonality is their shimmering sincerity of future vision and vibrant vigil against a clear and present danger.

Orwell and Niemoller’s dual messages were frighteningly similar in that both were frightened, and both thus rang out a warning to the masses; beyond that, the paradigm of paradox begins.

Orwell warned of the dangers of becoming “one” (in communal collectivism), while Niemoller issued a converse clarion call for the general citizenry to instead stand as one, in the midst and maelstrom of pervasive, seeping evil which entered his life and community like so much dirty water from a broken sewage line. Orwell saw evil in false unity, and Niemoller lovingly saw much good in unity which stands true in the face of all

evil.

Neither man, technically, was a political scientist by profession, but both were imbued with the vision to understand in great clarity that communism and Nazism represented extremism at each side of the railroad-track continuum of political philosophy, the first at the far left and the second at the far right. Neither tack deserved to be celebrated, and both were well worthy of literate (and liberty-laden) condemnation, with all due, deserved vitriol and vilification.

Orwell’s method of delivery was far lengthier than Niemoller’s (140 pages to 10 scant lines), and Niemoller strategically (even sweetly) selected poetry over the Orwellian fulcrum of the carefully crafted novella. Too, Orwell was undeniably rhetorical and allegorical, while Niemoller was literal and logical in his lightning-bolt litany. The overarching impact of each man’s mighty words, however, could not be adjudged solely by device so chosen; it mattered not a whit in the winter wind whether poetry or prose was whisked from among the sharpened quiver or armaments. In the end, it was the words that mattered most – not how they said it, but what they said. The woebegone wielders of the hammer and sickle, and the less-than-wise wearers of the swastika, may well have sown the wind but reaped the whirlwind in the wake of Orwell and Niemoller, who fought so valiantly with words.