The claim Masha Gessen makes in The Dying Russians – that Russia is experiencing a depopulation crisis due to the people’s loss of hope – is questionable at best, and nearly impossible to believe at worst. While I’m not fundamentally opposed to the notion that something like a loss of hope can lead to a less healthy population with a consequently higher mortality rate, Gessen doesn’t really manage to convince me that this is what has been happening in Russia.

Gessen starts off on the right foot by citing anthropological works like Michelle Parson’s Dying Unneeded and describing her research. Regrettably, she soon seemingly tries to support her claim by ruling out other potential causes (drinking, smoking, etc. ) of the mortality crisis based on statistical data. I see this as an improper method that has harmed the credibility of her paper. Statistical data alone is arguably insufficient evidence to rule out a cause of Russia’s high mortality Also, any kind of “ruling out” methodology for research requires a much more expansive scope than what Gessen allows. Even if we ignore the faults in her methodology, such a claim will always seem doubtful to many.

If we accept Gessen’s conclusion as correct, then the mortality crisis starts to sound a lot like the protests talked about in texts like Lisa Wedeen’s Acting ‘As If’: Symbolic Politics and Social Control in Syria and James C. Scott’s Normal Exploitation, Normal Resistance. In this case, the Russian population protests a government that gives them nothing with shocking fertility and mortality rates. A notable difference between these protests and those described in the aforementioned texts, however, is that these protests seem to be subconscious – it’s not like Russians are knowingly choosing to get heart attacks. This was a major point of interest in the paper for me, as it got me thinking about how (or if) subconscious protest even exists.

Depopulation won’t please the government, but how can an action be considered rebellious if it is not even executed consciously? My opinion is that it can’t be – protest requires a mindful decision to defy your oppressor in some way or form. In fact, I think that this decision is the greatest qualifier for protest. Therefore, I can’t interpret the depopulation crisis as some kind of rebellious action or display against the Russian government.

The shortcomings of the approach used by Parsons and the erroneous conclusions that were drawn from it highlight the importance of facts and data to supplement any qualitative analysis. Without data to adjudicate theoretical disagreements, qualitative analysis is at best informed opinion. However, this is not to say that data is a panacea to otherwise intractable disagreements in theory as there are limits to what data can tell you. Thus, the best approach is to use hard data, like statistics, in conversation with soft data, like ethnographies. In the case explicated by this reading, even this hybrid approach used by Eberstadt is incapable of any definite answers, but in leveraging data analysis to refine the scope of theoretical inquiry, a social scientist is at least able to to move closer to an answer.

Given technological and conceptual limits, there are, by necessity, plenty of things that are unknowable to us now. However attempting to place limits on human knowledge and capability is a fool’s errand. Just as people a hundred years ago would not have predicted the speed of the development of medical technology or electronic communication, people now are ill-equipped to declare insurmountable technological and conceptual barriers to human understanding. As such, to preemptively declare certain things unknowable and avoid seeking their answers is to impose unjustified and ultimately self-defeating limitations.  

Gessen’s claim that “Russia is dying of a broken heart” is misplaced in scientific or even social analysis. She attempts to use a kind of middle-range theory, such as the one Ziblatt advocates for, to describe a country of over 144 million people over a range of almost 100 years. Gessen completely fails to examine the scope conditions and any limitations on generalizing her (already questionable) findings. The conclusion that the death rate in Russia is due to cardiovascular disease is quite possibly a solid one – however, she fails to substantiate it with convincing evidence. It is true that the physiological outcome of stress, mediated by many deleterious effects of the hormone cortisol, can lead to immune suppression and increase the chance of contracting disease such as CVD. However, Gessen uses ungeneralizable and unsubstantiated evidence that in no way qualifies as scientific.

Gessen’s emotional approach, beginning with an (irrelevant) sob-story about how she lost many friends to AIDS in the US and then was told she shouldn’t be surprised that her Russian friends were dying as well – literally “crying on a friend’s shoulder” – is antithetical to any type of scientific study. While emotional appeals can be effective in journalism, Gessen’s article masquerades as scientific analysis of Russia’s high death rate, a quantitative statistic. Scientists of all kinds, including those in “soft” sciences, strive for impartiality because emotion leads to distortion such as confirmation bias. Gessen’s emotional connection to the country also dissuades her from considering what Scott proposed – that people may lie to analysts to portray themselves or their culture in a certain light. Parsons’ “long, unstructured interviews” offer only the perspectives of several in millions, and there is no guarantee that that these perspectives are reliable.

The weakest aspect of Gessen’s analysis is when she connects the “brief breaks in the downward spiral” with periods “of greater hope,” namely the Kruschev and Gorbachev eras. There is nothing that indicates causality between these eras and hope, or hope and low death rate. It would be more accurate to discuss the effects of less-repressive regimes and more open economies on, for example, food availability and nutrition, or stillbirths. Gessen states, “death and birth statistics appear to reflect nothing but despair.” Not only does she imply causality here, she implies exclusive causality! This is a huge oversight and inappropriate for any remotely scientific analysis.

Gessen’s piece begins with what feels like random anecdotal evidence for a rising mortality rate. She anthropological and sociological evidence in the first few pages as an introduction to her claim that more and more Russians are dying. Gessen jumps from the “unstructured interviews” conducted by Michelle Parsons to broad historical trends to economic conditions, all as possibilities for the cause of what seems like increased death rates in Russian. Her use of a great number and variety of possible causes does not make up for the fact that they are quite possibly unrelated. In other words, attempting to link together cultural, institutional, and historical arguments is not an effective method to summarize a specific trend that occurred over a vast number of years, specifically in the case of the Russian deaths. This becomes obvious in the latter half of the book review, when Gessen provides empirical facts about the deaths that occurred during times of famine, war, and emigration. While these periods of time had distinct, determinable causes of deaths, others did not. But this is not to say that they can or should only be explained by sociological or circumstantial evidence. Number of deaths and mortality rates are undeniably quantifiable statistics. We have records that keep track of the number of deaths, people’s age and cause of death, etc. Yes, Russia certainly has a distinct history and culture that has led its population to certain unique points of despair or hope that may or may not link to death rates; however, this is not to say that we should turn to sociological methods only as an explanation for scientific occurrences.

Once Orwell realizes “the hollowness, the futility of the white man’s dominion in the East” and continues to play his role designed by the British Empire, he gives power to the Empire (page 3). In the beginning of his essay, he states that his mind is detached from the work he does. In certain schools of thought, Orwell’s self realization can be interpreted as having the ultimate power. He understands the Imperial role that he has to play and feels guilty about how much power he owns in a land that is not truly his. What Orwell does not understand is that mentality of the establishment bleeds into one’s thoughts and feelings. This is because the public still sees Orwell as a part of the establishment and he feels compelled to play the part. Because of this, the power gets fed back into the larger image which is the British Empire.

The power comes from the Empire’s manipulation of Orwell’s desires. He is deathly afraid of looking weak in front of the natives. In Orwell’s mind, it is akin to survival: the natives can never see themselves as the superior people. When he thinks about death, it is not because he is scared to die, but it is because he is scared of the joy that the natives will get out of the image of his corpse. Everything Orwell does is revolving around his perceived power. In a larger scheme of things, Orwell is not unique to this issue as he states. This issue of perception and the image of the British Empire plagues “every white man’s life in the East” (page 3). Everyone has this internal struggle in their lives and they all choose to play their role in the imperialistic world.

George Orwell’s Shooting an Elephant is about how imperialism distributes power between the colonizer and the colony. We intuitively think that the imperial power, as the obviously stronger force, should be able to control the colony and its people. We’d also imagine a British officer (such as Orwell in this story) should dominate his relationship with natives, especially considering the power his position should give him over them.

The dilemma Orwell presents in Shooting an Elephant shows us that the power in an imperial relationship can often lie with the colonized people despite the colonizer holding all the official power: he doesn’t want or need to shoot the elephant, but does so anyway because the Burmese crowd that has gathered expects him to and – as a representative of the British empire – he needs to maintain (or gain) the respect of the natives by appearing resolute. Orwell’s writing makes it clear that the crowd’s expectations of the him control his actions. This is because the leader figure – in this context or any other- must continuously prove that he is worthy of his position.

The events of Shooting an Elephant also emphasize the power of groups. In the story, Orwell shoots the elephant because of the expectant Burmese crowd. Presumably, then, he would have acted differently if there were only a couple of natives watching him. Here, the Burmese show that they have influence and power in numbers. This relates to the notion (discussed in class) that a subjugated population or people have more power over when they form a large group.

A final word on Orwell’s decision to shoot and kill the elephant: I think his actions were arguably necessary and think his reasoning is acceptable. To have word go round that the British imperialists are soft would make the occupation of Burma more difficult. Put in a similar position, I probably would act as he did.

Orwell’s Shooting An Elephant represents an interesting display of the power dynamic between the British Imperialists and the Burmese population they are oppressing. While Orwell attempts to create a sympathetic look on the white man oppressed by his own system and tries to discover some type of power that lies with the Burmese people, his story fails to recognize the violence and systemic race politics that clearly keep any power from the larger oppressed majority.

A quote from the story, “And my who life, every white man’s life in the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed at (3),” shows the starkly ironic contrast between the fears of the Burmese people and the white officer. The Burmese are subjected to violence, regardless of failing to perform their social roles, and they have no choice in the matter. The lives of these people are not valued in this system, and only at the end of the story does Orwell acknowledge this, “…because an elephant was worth more than any damn Coringhee coolie (4).” Orwell’s characters inability to reconcile his own power dynamic in contrast to the one he perceives in the elephant situation elucidates his lack of understanding of the way his race and position really affect the performances of those around him. He seems absurdly concerned about his public image when he could easily use his own power along with the incredible power of the system he works in to reinstate his place above the Burmese.

What I think is most important to analyze in George Orwell’s Shooting an Elephant are the feelings Orwell elicited throughout the story as he is tasked to shoot the elephant. What Orwell is getting at is that by being an Englishman–white and representing (though not willingly) British imperialism–he is forced to act as “an absurd puppet” to the “yellow faces behind.” Although he states that he is secretly against the Burmese Oppressors, his vocabulary suggests that his hatred for the Burmese citizens far exceeds that of the “dirty work of Empire.” Ultimately, this–what I presume–fictitious hatred towards the British, is superseded primarily by an anger and frustration with the Burmese who fail to give him the respect he feels he deserves.

When confronted with the problem of the once rampaging elephant, Orwell decides to shoot the animal not due to an allegiance towards his occupation as a police officer nor a feeling of retribution considering the elephant did kill someone, but rather due to the mere fear of being laughed at by the “natives” who are, in that society, below him. I ascertain that this feeling of (absurd) “fear” and “vulnerability” is exacerbated by the fact that those who surrounded him are of a lower class than him. The idea that his façade performance of dominance will be exposed for its real weakness, is unacceptable for Orwell, a man who has been given the power to decide who or what lives or dies based upon his rank as an official. This pivotal exposure demonstrates the varying and dichotomous stakes of the oppressor-oppressed dynamic. In total, whether or not Orwell shoots the elephant, the only thing at stake is his pride. He understands this but does not understand how ludicrous and comical it is; rather he accepts the role he feels he needs to play and shoots the elephant. Only once the gun is shot and the huge animal staggers at the sudden blow, does this “veil” of the dominant fall from Orwell’s eyes. Unlike what Orwell expected however, the animal does not die immediately, but instead half an hour later and only after couple of more bullets had been shot into its rough skin. During this process, Orwell seems to believe that he is taking the higher road by trying to quell the anguished cries of the poor beast. And yet when he can no longer deal with the elephant’s whimpers, Orwell leaves–unwilling and unable to accept the consequences of his actions. And to think that all of this could have never happened if only he had the will to get over a fear of ridicule.

In Shooting an Elephant, Orwell asserts that the system of imperialism has the power. Orwell says referring to the role of the colonizers, “For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the ‘natives’, and so in every crisis he has got to do what the ‘natives’ expect of him. He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it.” Orwell attributes his actions to “the condition of his rule”, demonstrating that he is bound by structure, just like the Burmese. He also presents in this quote the argument that performance shapes attitudes (i.e. the mind and the body become blurred). These arguments are very similar to Havel. Also like Havel, Orwell believes that the system is absolute. He presents his decision to shoot the elephant as the only option, because deviating from the role of the “sahib” would undermine the system.

Orwell contradicts this argument at the beginning of the essay. In the first paragraph, he describes the small actions of the Burmese, in the streets and on the football field, which served to demonstrate their hatred towards Europeans. These small acts of defiance are not performative of the roles of the Burmese in this system and therefore would not be allowed to exist if in fact the system was absolute. Orwell therefore also had a choice to not shoot the elephant. He falsely attributes his insecurities, of “looking a fool”, to his powerlessness under the system of imperialism.