Shooting an Elephant, George Orwell’s 1936 essay describing the shooting of a once-aggressive elephant in British-occupied Burma remains a proper indictment of colonialism. At its height, the sun truly did not set on the British empire with its tentacles reaching India and Africa, Australia and North America. Because of British imperialism, folks in Zimbabwe do not eat cookies; they eat biscuits. Because of British imperialism, Aborigines in Australia break for tea and those living in the Indian subcontinent revere the game of cricket. It is why the English language is a staple. It is why the British monarchy retains its allure. This tiny island nation in the North Atlantic was, through guile and force, successfully able to accomplish what a British statesman proclaimed to Parliament in the early 19th century: make Englishmen of all denizens of the world. The feat was monumental. That the Redcoats were able to do this is nothing short of miraculous.
As the empire began to wane, however, the British seemed to enter a period of self-reflection. This is where Orwell comes in. A British police officer, likely Orwell himself, is called to dispatch an elephant that had killed a coolie and is now wandering about a local bazaar. It has already spent itself. The animal is now docile. The police officer absolutely does not want to dispatch the elephant, knowing that the beast is undoubtedly used in farming; however, a massive throng of locals wants him to do otherwise. The crowd is in control, not the man. Eventually, he shoots the elephant, but the death is not immediate. It is slow, savage, and grueling, and, in the end, the police officer makes a disturbing admission: he only shot the elephant to save face. He did not want to look like a fool.
In effect, the essay describes a role reversal of sorts. The power and influence of the colonizer is decreasing as the power and influence of the colonized is increasing. The majority rules while the minority shrinks. All said and done, this seems to be a just turn of events. To say that the impulse in human beings to colonize others has gone away, however, would be incorrect. While imperial powers that resemble what the British once had may not be around this day and age, it is unquestionable that another type of colonialism exist today.
It comes down to recognizing what minority group, like the British through guile and force, is insisting that its values be adopted by the majority. They may not have guns and canons, but they do have Hollywood and the music industry. They may not have warships, but they do have the news media and the loyalty of many educators. Theirs is a colonial enterprise, not of land and the people who occupy it but of the mind. How people think. What values those people hold. And, notably, the end result is very much the same: control. Always control. The military outpost of a foreign power is not down the street or in the next town; it is in between the ears. All in the head. A colonized mind is a mind subservient to the will of a few self-interested actors, and to call this out for what it is runs against the grain of a very elaborate ruse. The truth, you see, is that the majority can break the spell. This is Orwell’s thesis, after all. The police officer had the vestiges of authority, had the empire at his back, had the gun and the permission to use it, yet it was the will of the majority that, in effect, pulled the trigger, killing the elephant, destroying the empire.
What could this mean for those of us today in the grip of ideological colonizers? Imperialists of the mind?
Perhaps there is hope that a role reversal is possible. It will take an awakening, to be sure, but history shows us that empires do collapse – that power is never in the hands of the few forever – so let us all recognize the elephant in this current room and will that the weapons trained upon us become disagreeable to those who have them – those terrified of being made the fool in front of so many watchful eyes.
