A Clockwork Orange: Free Will, Morality & the Importance of Violence in Art
Spoilers ahead for both the book and the film adaption of A Clockwork Orange.
The crucial philosophical conflict of A Clockwork Orange is whether Alex Delarge deserves the Ludovico treatment or not. Should he be stripped out of his free will for his crimes, or must his free will be protected?
Though one can argue that all of our actions and decisions are deterministic and that free will is an illusion, that illusion plays a huge role in defining us as humans. A Clockwork Orange explores the idea that without free will, we’re not humans. When imposed to act in a certain way, we are animals forced to behave like machines. Hence the title, A Clockwork Orange.
The author, Anthony Burgess believes, ‘It is as inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil. The important thing is moral choice. Life is sustained by the grinding opposition of moral entities.’
The novel has a scene with a meta-reference where Alex DeLarge finds a book called ‘A Clockwork Orange’ inside the writer’s house. He reads,
‘That’s a fair gloopy title. Who ever heard of a clockwork orange?’ Then I read a malenky bit out loud in a sort of very high type preaching goloss: ‘ — The attempt to impose upon man, a creature of growth and capable of sweetness, to ooze juicily at the last round the bearded lips of God, to attempt to impose, I say, laws and conditions appropriate to a mechanical creation, against this I raise my swordpen — ’
Although Kubrick’s film adaptation was fantastic in its own way, it sacrifices the big idea for the sake of experience. The book’s original ending was omitted in the American version because its tone was inconsistent with the rest of the novel, much to Burgess’ dismay. In the last chapter, Alex meets his former droog friend, Pete, who is married, well-mannered and is virtually unrecognisable. Shocked but intrigued by Pete’s change, Alex dreams of having a family for himself and puts an end to his ultraviolent activities.
‘When I had my son I would explain all that to him when he was starry enough to like understand. But then I knew he would not understand or would not want to understand at all and would do all the veshches I had done, yes perhaps even killing some poor starry forella surrounded with mewing kots and koshkas, and I would not be able to really stop him. And nor would he be able to stop his own son, brothers. And so it would itty on to like the end of the world. But first of all, brothers, there was this veshch of finding some devotchka or other who would be a mother to this son. I would have to start on that tomorrow, I kept thinking. That was something like new to do. That was something I would have to get started on, a new like chapter beginning.’
This chapter recontextualises the whole book. Burgess conveys that true moral values can be achieved only by exploring immoral ideas and that a man can genuinely change through free will and not through enforced laws. On the other hand, Kubrick’s film omits the last chapter and remains as a mere satirical critique of authoritarianism.
It would be ridiculous to apply Burgess’ ideas in the real world, but art provides us with a safe space to explore such radical, cruel, abstract and impractical concepts.
There’s a huge difference between ‘I’m not going to perform this crime because another person will suffer because of it’ vs. ‘I’m not going to commit this crime because the law says so, or because people will judge me if I commit it.’ The former is the orange, who organically chooses to be good. The latter derives his moral values through clockwork i.e, law and social expectations. One cannot guarantee that the latter would keep his words when the lights are turned black.
Imagine if Alex was an accountant who swindled some money. It would be easy to conclude that the Ludovico technique is a violation of personal freedom, but the fact that Alex is such a despicable person who has committed abhorrent crimes forces us to question where to draw the line. Putting ourselves in the shoes of Alex DeLarge forces us to think about the complex nature of morality.
When Alex is affected by Ludovico technique, he’s not genuinely a morally good person. He’s still the old droog on the inside, who is unable to act on his will. His genuine change doesn’t occur until he meets Pete. Here, the change takes place through his personal will, not a mechanical force imposed by external factors.
Our personal experiences are limited to our past, our surroundings and the people we meet. Art expands our perception. It makes us think about topics that we’d have never dared to think about, perspectives we’d have never considered.
Of course, I’d be lying to myself if I ignore the fact that there are real crimes based on subversive literary works. Kubrick had to pull out his film from the theatres because of a series of violent acts inspired by A Clockwork Orange.
Is it fair to hold the artist responsible for the consumer’s misinterpretation? Art, like any form of communication, requires the involvement of both the source and the receiver. In 1968, Paul McCartney wrote Helter Skelter, a song about spiral slides in amusement parks. Charles Manson interpreted it as a prophecy for an apocalyptic racial war and committed serial murders. Should Paul McCartney be held accountable for Manson’s misinterpretations? If your answer is no (I hope so), the same logic applies to works like A Clockwork Orange and American Psycho.
It’s a bit unusual that A Clockwork Orange and Picture of Dorian Gray were both ostracised for their immoral decadence, but ironically, they were two of the greatest fictional works on the subject of morality.
