Brave New World
Stefano Tatai, December 27, 2015
It was 1963. I was so lucky to have an aunt like Mary Pannunzio, wife of Mario, Director of Il Mondo (The World) and one of the most followed and appreciated Italian intellectuals not only in Italy, but all over the world. (He was even invited by President Kennedy, but his modesty did not allow him to accept such an invitation).
On one of the evenings for which Rome has always been famous, when the Ponentino makes the air pleasant — I believe it was in June or July — there was a reception at the house of Carandini, to which I was also invited, apparently as a driver and a spare wheel of the Pannunzios. It was an after-dinner organised in honour of Aldous Huxley on his passage to Rome, in the presence and participation of the best of the journalism which today we would call of moderate left-wing views, with some exceptions, such as, for example, Guttuso who was openly a communist.
What left an indelible memory in me was, of course, Huxley. I was still in Hungary when I read (1956) “Brave New World”, which impressed me strongly. And not only me, but also other classmates of mine in the eight year of secondary school, the last one before the final-year examination.
The Head of our class was Professor Takács, who was also the Party secretary (needless to say which party) of the school, and, maybe out of a rebellious spirit we went on attack, bringing Huxley’s book out as a topic of discussion, whose plot, as far as we could feel and see, struck us as a detailed metaphor for society and ideals of communism. I do not exclude that the discussion, sometimes lively, was the cause of the report that Takács forwarded to his superiors, resulting in my non-admission to university. (It is a curious fact, however, that Takács emigrated to Israel a few months after the Revolution).
I’ll briefly tell you the story of the novel.
We live in an ultramodern society, in which problems and inconveniences of contemporary society are eliminated. The demographic explosion is obviated, because sons are born planned in a test tube and are raised in order to find a perfect social inclusion, in five categories (Alfa, Beta, Gamma, Delta and Epsilon) in which each one is proud of his belonging and is totally free from rebellious instincts. Religious conflicts, as well as any kind of social conflicts, are eliminated; in a word: a perfect society is created.
Until the unexpected happens. Although almost all of historical memories have been erased, some Indian reservations — that can be visited by the upper categories — have been maintained the way today we go to visit a museum. It is in one of these visits that a Beta woman gets lost and, remaining for years in the reservation, generates a child with the ancient system, giving birth to him. The already adult son is found back by the “outside world” which, in an impetus of solidarity, takes him and inserts him into the new society. Perfect for everyone, but not for a young without the psychophysical conditioning of “modern autochthonous”. The conflictuality between the two worlds explodes with tragic consequences.
My encounter with Huxley was disappointing. Huxley was kind to me and sympathetic for my Hungarian origins, but my rudimentary knowledge of the language did not allow me to express my admiration for his book, nor even to go into the details about which I would have wished to ask for his thought.
For example: in writing his story, did he have in mind communism which, either consciously or unconsciously, we identified as the basic philosophy of the book, or did he have in mind the development of the society going in the direction of an annihilating technology of human values in which we believe?
Stefano Tatai, December 27, 2015
It was 1963. I was so lucky to have an aunt like Mary Pannunzio, wife of Mario, Director of Il Mondo (The World) and one of the most followed and appreciated Italian intellectuals not only in Italy, but all over the world. (He was even invited by President Kennedy, but his modesty did not allow him to accept such an invitation).
On one of the evenings for which Rome has always been famous, when the Ponentino makes the air pleasant — I believe it was in June or July — there was a reception at the house of Carandini, to which I was also invited, apparently as a driver and a spare wheel of the Pannunzios. It was an after-dinner organised in honour of Aldous Huxley on his passage to Rome, in the presence and participation of the best of the journalism which today we would call of moderate left-wing views, with some exceptions, such as, for example, Guttuso who was openly a communist.
What left an indelible memory in me was, of course, Huxley. I was still in Hungary when I read (1956) “Brave New World”, which impressed me strongly. And not only me, but also other classmates of mine in the eight year of secondary school, the last one before the final-year examination.
The Head of our class was Professor Takács, who was also the Party secretary (needless to say which party) of the school, and, maybe out of a rebellious spirit we went on attack, bringing Huxley’s book out as a topic of discussion, whose plot, as far as we could feel and see, struck us as a detailed metaphor for society and ideals of communism. I do not exclude that the discussion, sometimes lively, was the cause of the report that Takács forwarded to his superiors, resulting in my non-admission to university. (It is a curious fact, however, that Takács emigrated to Israel a few months after the Revolution).
I’ll briefly tell you the story of the novel.
We live in an ultramodern society, in which problems and inconveniences of contemporary society are eliminated. The demographic explosion is obviated, because sons are born planned in a test tube and are raised in order to find a perfect social inclusion, in five categories (Alfa, Beta, Gamma, Delta and Epsilon) in which each one is proud of his belonging and is totally free from rebellious instincts. Religious conflicts, as well as any kind of social conflicts, are eliminated; in a word: a perfect society is created.
Until the unexpected happens. Although almost all of historical memories have been erased, some Indian reservations — that can be visited by the upper categories — have been maintained the way today we go to visit a museum. It is in one of these visits that a Beta woman gets lost and, remaining for years in the reservation, generates a child with the ancient system, giving birth to him. The already adult son is found back by the “outside world” which, in an impetus of solidarity, takes him and inserts him into the new society. Perfect for everyone, but not for a young without the psychophysical conditioning of “modern autochthonous”. The conflictuality between the two worlds explodes with tragic consequences.
My encounter with Huxley was disappointing. Huxley was kind to me and sympathetic for my Hungarian origins, but my rudimentary knowledge of the language did not allow me to express my admiration for his book, nor even to go into the details about which I would have wished to ask for his thought.
For example: in writing his story, did he have in mind communism which, either consciously or unconsciously, we identified as the basic philosophy of the book, or did he have in mind the development of the society going in the direction of an annihilating technology of human values in which we believe?
No comments:
Post a Comment