Beckett and Pinter:
the language of power and politics
Ron Delker S2337304
Supervisor: Dr. J.P.M. Jansen Word count: 14913
26-02-2018
Master’s Thesis English Literature and Culture code LEX999M20
Degree Programme MA Literary Studies University of Groningen
2 Abstract
This thesis examines the political aspects of The Theatre of the Absurd by looking at texts by renowned absurdist writers Samuel Beckett and Harold Pinter, including Waiting for Godot and Endgame by Beckett, and Pinter’s The Birthday Party, The Dumb Waiter, The Caretaker,
The Collection, and Mountain Language. To justify a political interpretation, and to
contextualize the political aspects within these interpretations, I will give autobiographical evidence of both authors that indicate their political inclinations. The notion that absurdist writing is by nature apolitical will be disproven by connecting the characteristics of The Theatre of the Absurd with a political interpretation of each text. These characteristics are the deconstruction of language, and the plot which revolves around an existential ideology. The political interpretation of these characteristics comes from their relationship with power. Regarding language, two main features should be recognized. Firstly, political order requires a uniform and definite language, and the deconstruction of language within absurdist writing therefore undermines political authority and power. Language also functions as a part of a language game, in which every utterance can be perceived as a move or action towards a particular goal. Power is defined as the instrumentality through which a goal is realized, meaning that language is a way of asserting power. In both the texts by Pinter and Beckett, language is utilized by authoritative forces to assert power, with the purpose of controlling and overpowering the individual. These forces also provide the individual with a meta-narrative, meaning a narrative that legitimizes their superior power while giving their followers purpose and meaning. This creates an escape for the existential condition of the individual, who struggles with the comprehension of his meaningless existence and his consequential existential identity.
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Content
Chapter 1: The power of language 4 Chapter 2: Beckett and the quest for meaning 13 Escaping the existential in Waiting for Godot and Endgame 15 Language games in Waiting for Godot and Endgame 19
Chapter 3: Pinter’s oppressors 24
Existential anxiety in The Caretaker and The Birthday Party 26 The language of the oppressor in The Collection, and The Dumb Waiter 34 The politicized oppressor in Mountain Language 40 Chapter 4: Beckett and Pinter’s political language 44
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Chapter 1: The power of language
Someone who is unfamiliar with absurdist drama might mistake the term “absurd” to signify senselessness, yet absurdist writing by authors such as Samuel Beckett and Harold Pinter does adhere to particular literary traditions and conventions that provide plenty of material for philosophical and literary analysis. Absurdist work is often a paradox, since literary critics attempt to find meaning in the stories that revolve around the useless search for meaning. However, the search becomes rewarding when exploring the political aspect of the plays. Although the individual plays by Beckett and Pinter appear to be apolitical at first glance, they can be perceived as more political when they are compared to Beckett and Pinter’s work as a whole and the absurdist tradition. Beckett and Pinter offer perfect examples of the political nature of absurdist writing, since both authors are well-known members of the Absurdist movement, and both have a personal background which can be related to the political aspect of their plays. For Beckett, the analysis of his texts is focused on his two most renowned plays Waiting for Godot and Endgame, since these texts function as accurate representations of his work. In terms of Pinter’s work, I have chosen multiple plays from his oeuvre, including The Birthday Party (1957), The Dumb Waiter (1957), the Caretaker (1959), The Collection (1961) and Mountain Language (1988). By analysing these plays, I will show Pinter’s shift from apolitical to political over time. In this chapter, the relevant definitions, literary technics, and philosophical theories will be explained, after which chapter 2 will include an analysis of each writer and their work. The findings concerning Pinter’s and Becket’s work will then be compared to find the overarching themes, which will construct a general picture of the political aspect of absurdist writing and the role of language in
examining power relations. The results will show that both authors express how political authorities assert power over the individual through language, and by providing a meta-narrative that functions as an escape for the individual’s existential condition.
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Before examining the power relations within the plays, it is necessary to define what the term ‘power’ means, since this differs amongst literary approaches. In Marxist theory, power is defined as institutional or individual power, of which the latter is determined by social class and the individual’s status within the means of production. However, in the plays of Beckett and Pinter, there is no such dichotomy, since the plays mostly take place in
isolated settings and with only a few characters whose social classes are often elusive. Although the power of a great institution is sometimes implied by for example the upstairs voice in The Dumb Waiter or through Godot in Waiting for Godot, this is more covert than overt in the plays. To discuss power relations in the plays by Pinter and Beckett, a definition of power which focuses on the individual is needed, instead of on his place within a greater setting outside the boundaries of the plays. Nigam recognizes a similar problem with the Marxist definition of power:
Marxism therefore, refuses to discuss anything, power included, as an “abstract eternal idea”. It insists on studying power and politics in the operations of the specific mode of production/social formation in which it exists and is exercised. (11)
She therefore consulted the work of the theorists Arendt, Parsons, Foucault, and Giddens, to define power in a more workable manner. Her definition of power is as follows: “power is the instrumentality through which ends are realized” (7). This holds for someone having power, i.e. the means to act on and realize that which is desired, and having power over someone, i.e. the means to realize that which is desired, even if this contradicts someone’s else’s desires. Throughout this thesis, I will use this definition of power to examine the characters of Beckett and Pinter by comparing the characters’ desires with their ability to fulfil these desires.
This definition of power can also be used to define what constitutes political theatre. According to Grimes, the main goal of political theatre is to “lead audiences to action or to
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frame social attitudes that progress can at least be contemplated” (27). This emphasis on the instrumentality of theatre adheres to the previously mentioned definition of power, since it indicates that political theatre has an objective, and therefore power in which to measure how well the objective is realized. On the level of a play, this can be used to see what the play aims to do and to what extent this is accomplished. In order to realize what the aims of the plays are, the social background of Beckett and Pinter will be used to illustrate certain aspects of their work. By comparing the power and power conflicts of the characters with the
political power of the plays themselves, the characters’ powers can also be placed in a political context, opening up the play to a more political interpretation.
Absurdist writing is often associated with an apolitical attitude. However, this should not be seen as inherent to “The Theatre of the Absurd”, a term first introduced by Martin Esslin in 1962 for the movement of playwrights that focused on existential ideas. According to Ionesco, a Romanian playwright who became one of the main representatives of The Theatre of the Absurd, absurdist theatre should be about freedom, and therefore free from “the tyrannies of political regimes and direction” (Ionesco 148). Political influence would confine the artist to the direction of its ideology. Ionesco rejected politics as a concept, and wanted theatre to be ‘apolitical’, referring to the absence of political ideologies as a whole, instead of the rejection of a particular existing political ideology. Similar to these
confinements, he perceived the Realist theatre to be constraining as well, since it was limited to familiar conventions of language and form. The rejection of the literary tradition of Realist theatre is also a statement in favour of apolitical theatre. As stated by the literary theorist Catherine Belsey, the presumption of Realist theatre that it reflects the real world implies that its account of the world is unmediated (Belsey 3), therefore validating the existing social structure of society. Rejecting the realist tradition means that theatre is freed from ideological constraints and solely led by the limits of the imagination, which Ionesco deems to be
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limitless. Other dramatists who were later categorized as part of the Theatre of the Absurd, including Pinter and Beckett, adhered to these ideas and resisted conventional and Realist theatre in a similar manner:
[…] the major dramatists of this group [the theatre of the absurd] took existentialism in an explicitly antipolitical direction, abandoning didacticism and rational
communication in favour of dramatic imagery that emerges from the subconscious and the mythic, and promoting the deconstruction rather than the reconstruction of social life. (Morgan 117-118)
This opposition was therefore against Realist theatre and political theatre. It illustrates the political quality of Realist theatre and the contrast with The Theatre of the Absurd. Lyotard describes Realism as something that can be defined by its intention “to avoid the question of reality implicated in that of art” (75). If the political party in power is given the authority to choose the images and messages of these plays, Realist theatre makes an ideal instrument for propaganda and other political means. The opportunities of Realist theatre for political parties also explains why more experimental avant-garde theatre was avoided and shunned by ruling political parties in the past, since it threatens the uniformity, simplicity, and communicability that is desired by the political power (Lyotard 75). Realist theatre gives a political power the possibility to create a narrative and communicate this to the public, while experimental theatre such as The Theatre of the Absurd questions the foundations on which this narrative is build.
The resistance against theatrical conventions is a manifestation of the ideas of existentialism, a theory that is conceptualized by theorists such as Sartre and Camus. One of the main ideas of existentialism is its rejection of essentialism:
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[…] existence precedes essence. That I to say, the notion of an original, immaterial archetype is jettisoned. There is no matric from which individual men in the concrete are drawn. There are only individual men, born undefined. (Kerr 4)
Barnes states that Sartre and Camus’ approaches to existentialism differ from the absurdist tradition when it comes to society. While Sartre and Camus attempt to use reason to
determine the irrationality of society, absurdist writers such as Pinter and Beckett deem this logical and rational approach to be futile:
These members of the Theatre of the Absurd, instead of protesting what the
conflicting premises have done to man since the Renaissance, are satisfied to reveal the senselessness of man – cut off, first, from a traditional God, next from a logical certitude, and finally condemned to the herd-like subordination to the group, to the state. (Barnes 31)
This contrast resembles the differences between modernism and post-modernism. Sartre and Camus should be placed in the former group of rationality and an emphasis on the
advancement of society, while the Theatre of the Absurd is more similar to the postmodern movement with their refutation of a universal truth. They accept the meaninglessness of man’s existence instead of protesting it. The quotation also reveals a pessimistic outlook for protest and revolution in Marxist terms, since it means that man is condemned to be
dominated by the power of the state. The use of postmodern theory is not meant to define either Pinter or Beckett as a postmodernist, but rather to help illustrate and differentiate the different approaches to existentialism.
What follows is that there is no predetermined or divine plan from which meaning can be derived. Everyone’s identity is derived from their past and therefore formed through their existence. There is no greater structure to which they can measure themselves, and
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existentialists believe that people’s choices are therefore unconstrained (Barnes 9). This means that there is no ‘right’ choice to make, because there is nothing to judge the choice by. As opposed to religion, which Sartre mentions as a way out of taking responsibility for one’s choices. He believes that a religious man places his responsibility on God, for he measures his choices to the theological doctrine of the church (Barnes 73). Regarding the term ‘absurd’, their approaches differ. Sartre sees the absurd as the “primordial quality of existence” (Hall 26), whereas Camus perceives the absurd as the conflict between man’s desire to understand the world and derive meaning from it, and the world’s limited capacity to fulfil this desire (Hall 27). He described the human condition as the struggle between the familiar world of reason and the realization that this idea is only an illusion (Esslin 23). Again, it is comparable to postmodern theory, since both Sartre and Camus show how mankind searches for a meta-narrative and is unable to find one. Postmodernism, which the poststructuralist thinker Lyotard defined as “incredulity toward metanarratives” (XXIV), denies the existence of a universal truth or plan on which man can rely its values and
meaning. Religion is one of those meta-narratives, and as mentioned before, was rejected by both Camus and Sartre. This absence of a meta-narrative corresponds to the idea of Absurdist theatre by Ionesco, since political ideologies such as Marxism or Capitalism also function as a meta-narrative. While Ionesco argues for excluding such a narrative, to free the artistic work from any political direction, existentialists such as Sartre and Camus deny the legitimacy of the ideology itself.
The role of language within the assertion of power can be found by examining the language-games within the text. The term ‘language-games’ is defined in Wittgenstein’s
Philosphical Investigations from 1953, who attempts to define the implicit rules of language.
These rules create the game, in which an utterance should be perceived as a move in the game
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recognize the use and intention of an utterance, i.e. the move within the language-game. In Lyotard’s book The Postmodern Condition (1979), which will be mentioned again later when discussing postmodernity, Lyotard uses this theory to examine power relations. The manner of communication becomes the way in which the characters of Pinter and Beckett attempt to realize their ends, so language is their primary instrument to assert power while participating in the language-game. Esslin’s argument on the language of the Theatre of the Absurd is relevant here. He states that language should be perceived as an action, a dramatic element which bears significance beyond the actual verbal content (38). Language becomes the action, the move within the game, which can be done through for example repetitions, silences, nonsense, orders, etc. Based on Nigam’s definition of power, language is an action or move within the language game, and therefore an instrument to pursue a particular goal or desire. The use of language becomes a way of asserting power.
The Theatre of the Absurd deems the definitive meaning of language in
communication to be an undesirable ideal, arguing that it should be free from any limitations. This emphasis on freedom is also supported by their idea that language is unconstrained, since existentialists deny that they can “be bound to the external control of any range of meanings” (Barnes 3). Although this leads to the paradoxical problem of defining
existentialism, since this would presuppose a fixed meaning of the words of this definition, the idea of language as unbound and undefinable is often present in the works of Pinter and Beckett:
[…] these dramatists realized that the usual language no longer had meaning. Thus, they use traditional terms in such a way as to show that they are so absurd as to have no rational meaning. That is because the meaning is not in the word, but in the person who uses the word. Because man’s personality has been dichotomized – as man
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seems a contradiction to the essence of mankind – since he is a contradiction, he and his words are absurd. (Barnes 31-32)
In addition to its resemblance to Wittgenstein’s later theory of language beyond its mere verbal content, this quotation also echoes Shlovsky’s idea of defamiliarization.
Defamiliarization is defined as the process which removes the “automatism of perception” (qtd in Renz, 16). By using traditional terms to emphasize its irrationality or absurdity, Pinter and Beckett are contradicting the manner in which one expects to see something. This draws the attention of those who are familiar with the conventions of language, and opens it up for re-evaluation. Ionesco mentioned the importance of this as well:
And what is sometimes labelled the absurd is only the denunciation of the ridiculous nature of a language which is empty of substance, sterile, made up of clichés and slogans; of theatre-that-is-known-in-advance.” (Ionesco 48 “The avant-garde theatre”).
Here Ionesco emphasizes the emptiness of language, which he connects to popular and Realist theatre. The “clichés and slogans” can be seen as both a reference to the automatism of everyday language, as well as a statement against political language, which often uses these instruments to support a political statement.
The political side of language is also examined by Eagleton, who emphasizes the necessity for a well-ordered and shared language as the foundation on which to build a successful political state:
For a stability of signs – each word securely in place, each signifier (mark or sound) corresponding to its signified (or meaning) – is an integral part of any social order: settled meaning, shared definitions and regularities of grammar both reflect and help to constitute, a well-ordered political state. (Eagleton 1).
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This means that resisting a unified language, like the existentialists and the Theatre of the Absurd, is ultimately a move against a well-ordered state. Belsey supports this aspect of language by saying: “Ideology is inscribed in language in the sense that it is literally written or spoken in it” (5). Ideology in this sense means the way in which the world is experienced and perceived, and Belsey echoes Eagleton by stating that language is essential in identifying and shaping ideology. Together with political or economic practise, language influences how society is shaped and perceived. A uniform and unchanging language would therefore
exclude any other ideology, making it easier for political parties in power to validate their ideology and maintain social order. One could argue that these opponents of a uniform language are against it because of their belief that a unified and stable language is
unattainable, but Beckett’s decision to write in French is a literary choice which shows his deliberate choice to deconstruct language through using a foreign language. According to Deleuze and Guattari, a minor literature (i.e. literature written by a minority writer in a major language) differentiates itself from the major literature, since it has an inherent collective value as a representation of the particular minority. This causes every minority literature to be against the majority literature, and therefore it is political by nature (16). A minority literature also involves a significant degree of deterritorialization (Deleuze and Guattari 16) as the process of language to escape its original territory. It challenges the ‘stability of signs’ that is mentioned by Eagleton, and therefore the ability of a major language to give order to a political state. Colonizers who imposed their languages upon the colonized, and immigrant writers who feel they betrayed the culture of their birthland by writing in a majority language all function as examples of the anxiety and capabilities that are involved in the relation between a nation and its language. The characteristic deconstruction of language within Absurdist writing should therefore be seen as a political act, since it undermines the ability of language to form an ordered political state.
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Chapter 2: Beckett and the quest for meaning
Beckett was born in Ireland, yet lived in Paris for the majority of his life. The prize
motivation for his Nobel prize in Literature in 1969 stated that the elevation of his work is obtained through the ‘destitution of modern man’ (‘The Nobel Prize in Literature 1969’). This destitution means the human condition that is described in Beckett’s work, a
meaningless existence of alienation and homelessness. Although his writing revolves around these existential themes, Beckett refused to interpret his work within a philosophical context (Moran 94). His critics have either focused on Beckett’s writing as a depiction of the human condition, or the workings of the text as it “undermines and negates the condition of
placedness” (Boxhall 163). The placedness refers to the universality of Beckett’s writing, and how he abstains from allusions or references to an outer reality. This aspect of his writing can also be related to his approach to the political:
His perceived longing for silence, for voicelessness and placelessness, his
indeterminate nationality, his relentless, ascetic refusal of all forms of belonging, his paring down of reference to the point that his writing seems barely to refer to the world at all, have all led critics to suggest that his writing constitutes an abdication from, a denial of, or an indifference to the political. (Boxhall 159)
Other critics disagree with this notion of placelessness, and consequently argue against an apolitical interpretation of Beckett’s work. This approach can be traced back to O’Brien’s
Beckett Country, a book published in 1986 with a foreword by James Knowlson, who states
that the book encourages literary critics to shift their criticism towards considering the outer reality of Beckett’s work. In his book, O’Brien argues that Beckett’s writing is linked to the “reality of existence” (XIX) through Beckett’s memories of Dublin, a world which he has made unrecognizable by stripping away time and place, yet still rooted within the imagined
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reality of his plays.
The decision to write his plays in French as an Irishman can be explained by his own statements, but also holds significance for the political interpretation of his work. Beckett’s decision to write in French was not a rejection of the English language. It was motivated by his insistence to deconstruct language. When asked about his decision to write in French, Beckett answered: “Because in French it is easier to write without style” (qtd. in Pilling 201). This echoes the earlier mentioned research by Deleuze and Guattari (see chapter 1), who state that authors who use a language that is not their native language leads to the
deterritorialization of the non-native language. This creates the possibility to use that language with more creative freedom, and distances it from its original form by
deconstructing it. Edwards describes this process when he examines Beckett’s use of French: […] French written by a foreigner, were it even impeccably correct, is not the same thing as French written by a Frenchman. Without moving in the least, the words change meaning. Beckett’s French is not French. There is a gap, a confusion, and we find ourselves conversing in Babel. (69)
Beckett’s own different kind of French that Edwards mentions here can be perceived as Deleuze and Guattari’s idea of the deterritorialized version of French. The language is deconstructed and therefore different from the uniform version of French with its own fixed meaning and consistency. Beckett’s French is less constrained and gives him more creative freedom.
Besides Beckett’s own intentions behind his choice for French, this also has
consequences for the interpretation of his work from a political perspective. Golden states the importance of choosing French over English: “the language and literary tradition of the conqueror carry the hegemony or ideology of the conqueror and would necessarily be inimical to the conquered if used as a medium for self-expression” (426). It resembles the
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theory of Deleuze and Guattari, who also argue that minority writers automatically hold a revolutionary power through their writing. By not using his native language, Beckett distances his writing from the literary tradition and ideology of England. Although he later did translate his works into English as well, his initial decision still proves to be a significant detail when examining the politics of his work. Moreover, Beckett’s experiences during the second world war also support this political reading, since he witnessed the oppression by a political party himself (Knowlson 188). Although a political reading of his work in relation to Ireland would require more research in Beckett’s personal relation to Ireland and the political history of Ireland, his biographical context does provide enough evidence to justify an
examination of political oppression as a concept within his texts.
Escaping the existential in Waiting for Godot and Endgame
The title of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot relates to the primary action in the play, namely waiting. However, Godot never appears in the play and remains an elusive entity. The first few pages suggest that Godot could be God, yet Beckett himself claimed to if this were the case, he would have just used the word ‘God’ (Blau 22). Although Godot can be perceived as merely the embodiment of something to wait for, there is enough textual evidence to go against Beckett’s own statement and make an argument in favour of Godot as God. This is especially important since it helps to illustrate how Beckett describes the characters’ wish to escape their existential condition. In addition to the resemblance between the names ‘God’ and ‘Godot’, the connection is also evident from Vladimir’s proposition: “suppose we repented.” (2623). The possibility to repent is mentioned right after Vladimir mentions the biblical story of the two thieves who were crucified together with Christ. Vladimir is therefore comparing him and Estragon with the thieves, who are also waiting on their “saviour” (2624). Another instance which hints to Godot being God is the boy in act two, who says that he is send by Godot. His mentioning of the parable from Matthew 25 also
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equates Godot with God, since the boy states that Godot beats his brother for herding sheep (2649). The boy also hints at Godot being God by saying that his beard is white (2675). This reminds Vladimir of Lucky’s earlier monologue, who described God as follows: “a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves us dearly with some
exceptions for reasons unknown” (2643). The similarities between Godot and God are therefore both physical and symbolically, providing the necessary evidence to examine the relation further in terms of their significance to existentialism.
These allusions to God with regards to Godot exemplify the need for meaning through religion, as described by Sartre. In order to find meaning in their meaningless existence, Vladimir and Estragon are waiting for Godot to save them from their existential condition. Given that Godot is in fact God, Vladimir and Estragon are waiting for religion to give them meaning and consequently to save them from their meaningless fate. They are also pondering suicide to escape their existential dilemma (2676), the second way of escaping the absurd according to Camus, yet they remain unmoved by the end of the play. They are only left with accepting the absurd, or to keep struggling with the never arriving meta-narrative by Godot i.e. religion. Throughout the play, their hopeful reliance on the arrival of Godot shows how they have not yet accepted the post-modern world of their existence, in which “grand narratives, upon which modernism bases itself, have all broken down, giving way to a postmodern society” (Nealon 521) that does no longer believe in these meta-narratives. By believing in it, Vladimir and Estragon remain bound to their absurd quest for meaning:
VLADIMIR: Tied to Godot? What an idea! No question of it. [Pause] For the moment. (2629)
Although Vladimir is initially confident with his answer, there is a form of realization during the pause that makes him understand his situation. Although he does not question his quest
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for meaning directly, he does acknowledge the possibility to doubt the credibility of this quest, meaning the credibility of the meta-narrative. It is a form of partially realizing his existential condition.
Beckett’s Endgame, about four characters in a post-apocalyptic world, is another characteristic example of Beckett’s absurdist writing and his use of the existential condition. One of the absurd aspects is the play’s existential meaninglessness, concerning its setting, language, and plot. The play is set in a post-apocalyptic world which is not shown or explained. Time has become meaningless there, as is evident from Clov’s reaction to
Hamm’s question about what time it is: “The same as always.” (13). A similar instance of this is when Clov mentions ‘yesterday’, and Hamm reacts: “Yesterday! What does that mean?” (32). These examples show how any indications of time are neglected or questioned, since they do not mean anything in a world which continuously stays the same, consisting of nothing but the routines that Clov and Hamm display throughout the play. The approach to this meaninglessness does differ between them, since Hamm is constantly urging Clov to indulge in the routines, while the latter deems these a “farce” (26). This shows how Hamm finds solace in attempting to add meaning to the meaningless world, implementing the routines to give structure and meaning to his daily existence. He uses this constructed meta-narrative to give himself meaning, giving him power over Clov as the one thing that holds the meta-narrative intact. Clov however seems to sulk about his existence and is repeatedly talking about leaving Hamm and the daily routines behind. Clov, however, would “not be able to exist without him” (Hale 81). His struggle to come to terms with the meaninglessness of his existence implies that he cannot escape the illusion of meaning that Hamm has created through routines within the house, making his departure from Hamm at the end of the play most likely a temporary one.
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Moreover, the story itself appears meaningless as well. Clov and Hamm discuss the possibility of their meaningless existence:
HAMM: Clov!
CLOV: (impatiently). What is it?
HAMM: We’re not beginning to . . . to . . . mean something?
CLOV: Mean something! (Pause.) You and I, mean something! (Brief laugh.) Ah that’s a good one!
HAMM: I wonder. (Pause.) Imagine if a rational being came back to earth, wouldn’t he be liable to get ideas into his head if he observed us long enough. (Voice of
rational being.) Ah, good, now I see what it is, yes, now I understand what they’re at!
(Clov starts, drops the telescope and begins to scratch his belly with both hands.
Normal voice.) And without going so far as that, we ourselves . . . (with emotion) . . .
we ourselves . . . at certain moments . . . (vehemently.) To think perhaps it won’t all have been for nothing! (26-27)
This moment is a form of meta-theatre, since it draws the audience’s attention to their own experience as an audience. By mentioning beings that are observing Clov and Hamm, the audience recognizes that they are the observers that are being talked about. Clov’s brief laugh about the notion of them holding any meaning is therefore directed towards the audience, who automatically search for meaning when they are seeing the performance. At the same time, Clov is looking through the telescope at their own world, making him an observer as well. Just as Clov and Hamm cannot make sense of their own world, so is the audience unable to make sense of the play. At least, that is the suggestion that Clov and Hamm are making.
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Language games in Waiting for Godot and Endgame
Going back to the speech by Lucky, his words illustrate the postmodern language game that characterizes Beckett’s role within the Theatre of the Absurd. Throughout his writing, Beckett constantly lets his plays push the boundaries of language, either through the earlier mentioned deterritorialization, as well as by using other ways of deconstructing language, such as misunderstandings, disintegrations, and nonsensical conversations. By doing so, Beckett is making language devoid of meaning, just as the plot remains void of meaning for Vladimir and Estragon. Put into the context of later postmodern literary criticism, this breaking with the traditional language norms is a postmodern language game, which is also evident from Lucky’s speech:
“Lucky's think is directed against all the grand Narratives of Western metaphysics, which ground themselves in discourses claiming to be: referential and self-validating ("quaquaquaqua"); ahistorical ("outside time"); metaphysicalor mystical ("for reasons unknown"); teleological and revelatory ("but time will tell"); and bulwarks against radical scepticism ("a calm which even though intermittent is better than nothing"). (Nealon 523)
In other words, Lucky’s speech criticizes the belief in meta-narratives, while the other characters do not show the same kind of credulity. The stage-directions in the margin of Lucky’s speech (2643-2645) also show how Pozzo becomes increasingly disgusted and angry with Lucky throughout the speech. Pozzo’s reaction is due to his belief in meta-narratives and his own superior position towards Lucky. Not only is he figuratively blind for the actual message of Lucky’s speech, he also becomes literally blind in the play, symbolizing his stubbornness to accept that the presence of a meta-narrative is an illusion, since there is no philosophical escape from their meaningless world.
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be inferred from these language games distinguish different approaches to existential themes. There are two main relationships that can be recognized, namely between Estragon and Vladimir, and between Pozzo and Lucky. The former two characters appear to have equal power in the play, and refrain from any power struggle. The latter two characters are more significant when it comes to power relations, since Lucky is under the complete control of Pozzo. From a Marxist perspective, this couple can be seen as the master/slave relationship. Pozzo represents the land-owning bourgeoisie, while Lucky is the proletariat that keeps the bourgeoisie in power by subjecting its thoughts and actions to it (Golden 443). Lucky is only allowed to speak and think when given permission by Pozzo, and even then, his words are perceived as worthless and meaningless. Pozzo is the authority that controls Lucky’s language, and consequently his thinking and agency. Vladimir and Estragon remain
powerless in the play, not being able to achieve meaning within their meaningless existence, consisting of the endless process of waiting for something which seems not capable of appearing. Elizabeth Barry recognizes an absence of agency for the characters, which she derived from the presence of ‘the middle voice’. This voice falls between the designations of active and passive, or subjective and objective. She claims that the characters who use this voice construct agentless sentences, making the character’s language a manner of conveying their agentless existence. The characters are therefore trapped between “their failure to assert their own agency and the lack of absolute authority to call them into being” (130). The latter creates a form of anxiety for the characters, explaining their constant urge to take action and their constant failing to do so. This is made evident by their proposals to commit suicide, and to leave each other for good. In fact, their conversations are the only thing that makes sense of their timeless and meaningless existence, making them reliant on each other, which explains their equal power. Even Pozzo relies on these conversations with Estragon and Vladimir to give his existence meaning, which evident when he wishes to depart:
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POZZO: Adieu.
[Silence, No one moves] […]
I don’t seem to be able … [long hesitation] … to depart. (2646)
The silence and hesitation are a moment of realizing the existential condition. It shows an inability to express the exact conditions of his existence, yet still being confronted with the fallibility of his adherence to a meta-narrative.
Language games are also an aspect of Endgame, which also characterize certain approaches to existential meaninglessness. The conversations between the characters seems to be about nothing, meaningless reminiscing about the past or arguing about routines. They show the emptiness of everyday language. Through their language games, they are constantly trying to get the upper hand. The title of the play therefore refers to both the endgame of the world, surrendered to the absurd meaninglessness and an apocalyptic emptiness, as well as the endgame of the language game between Hamm and Clov. Whenever Clov says that he wants to leave, Hamm emphasizes how he needs Clov and that he cannot leave him: “Gone from me you’d be dead” (45). It means that both characters cannot fathom the true
meaninglessness of their existence. Hamm is literary and figuratively blinded to see the world as it is, while Clov is unable to leave the comfort of Hamm’s non-existential illusion. Even their identities remain impossible to define through these language games, since Clov and Hamm speak without any representative qualities of their identities, and anything which appears to signify their identity is counteracted or contradicted (Schwab 91). Beckett’s language therefore deconstructs the conventional meaning of the words, as well as their function within the language game underneath these words.
Clov and Hamm are also the most significant characters when it comes to the power relations within the play. Hamm functions as the representation of the bourgeoisie, while
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Clov is the working proletariat: “Hamm and Clov are familiars, intimately bound together by the relationship of oppressor to oppressed, of owner to worker” (Golden 444). Their
arguments make up the major part of the play, and they display a struggle between the oppressor and the oppressed. Hamm deems himself to be both figuratively as well as literally at the centre of the play:
HAMM: I’m more or less in the centre? CLOV: I’d say so.
HAMM: You’d say so! Put me right in the centre! CLOV: I’ll go and get the tape. (24)
Hamm commands Clov successfully throughout most of the play, and this passage exemplifies that. It also shows Hamm’s desire to be at the centre of the room, implying metaphorically how he desires to be in power within his own constructed existence by focusing on his routines. The fact that Clov is ordered to fulfil this desire shows the
difference in power. While Clov states that he wants to leave the house, he is unable to do so throughout most of the play. He marvels in his inability to disobey Hamm: “There’s one thing I’ll never understand. (He gets down.) Why I always obey you?” (48). Hamm’s statement that it wouldn’t be an easy answer is because Hamm himself might not realize it. His idea that it might be compassion is false, since Clov shows predominately irritation and anger towards Hamm, and inevitably does leave him by himself. To understand his obedience, one must first look at language again. The story that Hamm tells to Nagg and Clov appears to be about Clov and how he met Clov’s poor father. This illustrates Clov’s remark about the language that he uses:
CLOV: […] I use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything anymore, teach me others. Or let me be silent. (32)
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Here Clov states that Hamm taught him the language. As discussed before, language can be used to control, as is also the case between Hamm and Clov. Hamm functions as the
authoritarian power which dictates the language that is being spoken. The play also shows how Hamm uses the similar principle of silencing someone with inferior power with language:
HAMM: Nothing stirs. All is– CLOV: Zer–
HAMM: (violently). Wait till you’re spoken to! (25)
Clov needs permission to use his language, which shows how Hamm controls the language that Clov uses. By not giving Clov permission to speak, Hamm is denying Clov to partake in the language game and to assert his power.
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Chapter 3: Harold Pinter’s oppressors
Pinter is difficult to characterize when it comes to his politics, since he has changed from a more apolitical perspective towards being an outspoken political activist. His first plays were not perceived as overtly political by critics (Merritt 138), a view justified by Pinter’s own statements on politics. He deemed “most political thinking and terminology suspect and deficient” (Quigley 14), and his initial apolitical stance is described by his words during a speech in 1962: “beware of the writer who puts forward his concern for you to embrace…” (qtd in Quigley 9). One year earlier, he also stated: “I'm not committed as a writer, in the usual sense of the term, either religiously or politically. And I'm not conscious of any particular social function.” (qtd in Quigley 24). These statements echo Ionesco’s ideal of literature as apolitical. However, Pinter became a significantly more political playwright in the early 80s (Grimes 14). This shift towards politics is also reflected in his Nobel Prize speech in 2005, in which he mentions for example the violent suppression of Eastern Europe and the invasion of Iraq (Pinter 22). He was also involved in the organisation PEN, "which raises the profile of censored and imprisoned writers" (Luckhurst 112). It may appear as if Pinter became the political writer he initially warned about, yet by comparing his earlier work with the political themes within his later work Mountain Language, the similarities will prove that Pinter’s earlier work is political as well. The main similarity that will be discussed is political interpretation, since they often involve a “a central figure who is squeezed by
authoritarian forces” (Pinter qtd in Merritt 137). These forces can also be defined as a form of ‘usurper’:
Pinter has produced an impressive volume of work, insisting in play after play on the precariousness of man’s existential security. Pinter’s device for expressing this theme has been the “usurper”, a menacing figure who, either actively or passively,
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undermines the existence of other characters, and who sometimes is undermined. (Pesta 123)
The usurper is therefore an authoritative force that asserts its power over the individual, which can be either a character or another force within the play. Given Pinter’s statements on politics, these authoritative forces should be interpreted as a metaphor for political forces, an aspect of both Pinter’s early and later works. This will be discussed in more detail in chapter 4, when Pinter’s usurper will be compared to Beckett’s plays.
Language is a feature in Pinter’s writing that combines his ideas about power, existentialism, the absurd, and the political. As Pinter notes in his Nobel Lecture:
Political ‘language, as used by politicians, does not venture into any of this territory since the majority of politicians, on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth but in power and in the maintenance of that power. (Pinter 22)
In other words, Pinter deems language to be an important instrument for politicians to assert power. The way in which this works is through language games, asserting power through language as a move or instrument. To understand these moves, one must look beyond the verbal meaning of the text and examine the words as actions within their conversational context. The writing style of Pinter should therefore be examined as a whole, so the exact nature of the language games becomes clearer, after which this can be applied to each text. Pinter’s general approach to his characters’ language is that they are, similar to reality, often elusive when it comes to their speech. They employ “a language, […] where under what is said, another thing is being said” (Pinter qtd in The Guardian 1962). The meaning of language is no longer limited to what is being said, its real meaning is derived from its role within the language-game. As described in chapter 1 with regards to Esslin’s description of The Theatre of the Absurd, the use of language as an action rather than for its verbal content
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is a characteristic of absurdist writing. Pinter’s writing style consists of using language that adheres to this Absurdist tradition, meaning that it challenges the definite nature of language and explore its meaning beyond the words themselves. This does not only hold for when someone speaks, but also when nothing is being said at all. Pinter often deploys pauses in his plays that signify a silence that is also part of the language game. Pinter explained this himself by differentiating between two kinds of silences: “There are two silences. One when no word is spoken. The other when perhaps a torrent of language is being employed.” (Pinter qtd in The Guardian 1962). The silences and dialogue as employed by Pinter become
therefore a move within the language game, adopting the methods of the Absurdist tradition, and gaining a political connotation through its relation to power.
Existential anxiety in The Caretaker and The Birthday Party
Pinter’s The Birthday Party portrays both the emptiness of language in ordinary speech, as well as the use of language as an instrument to assert power. The emptiness of language is shown in the language and dialogue of Meg and Petey. Throughout the play, Meg remains oblivious about the story surrounding Stanley and the two strangers, while Petey accepts Stanley’s fate and goes back to his familiar life at the end of the play. Meg and Petey symbolize the meaningless mundanity of life, stuck in an endless loop of meaningless activities and conversations. At the beginning of the play, the audience is invited into a morning ritual which strikes as both familiar and unsettling meaningless. Meg has prepared breakfast for Petey and asks him about his job and the newsletter that he is reading:
MEG. Is it good? PETEY. Not bad. MEG. What does it say? PETEY. Nothing much.
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PETEY. Yes, well, I haven’t finished this one yet.
MEG. Will you tell me when you come to something good? PETEY. Yes.
(10)
Petey’s short answers convey a feeling of disinterest, as well as a genuine feeling that there is nothing happening that is worth mentioning. Meg’s mentioning of yesterday’s ritual
emphasizes the continuity of it, as well as her joy about the idea that there are things in the world that are important enough to be read out. Her eagerness to organize a party for Stanley also shows her willingness to look for meaningful things in their lives. This makes her the most absurd character of the play, since she is actively trying to seek meaning in a
meaningless existence. She is therefore an irrational character, which explains the end of the play. The true motives of McCann and Goldberg remain unbeknownst to her, and all she takes away from the story is how everyone said that she was “the belle of the ball” (87). Petey on the other hand is present when Stanley is being taken away. In an
uncharacteristic urge for action, Petey even yells: “Leave him alone!” (85). However, when Goldberg responds by threatening to take him away as well, Petey does not move. When they exist, he walks back to the table and starts reading the newspaper. It makes the play go full circle, in that the first breakfast ritual is being repeated. When Meg asks him about the newspaper, he returns to his short and meaningless answers: “All right” (86). The fact that he does not mention the confrontation with the two strangers shows that Petey rather finds comfort in the daily ritual of having breakfast and reading the newsletter, embracing the meaninglessness of it. He values it to such an extent that he lies to Meg about Stanley being asleep, since the truth would break the ritual.
Therefore, the relationship between Meg and Petey marks itself by their differing approaches to their existence. Their conversations are a result of this dynamic, with Meg
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asking for any significance and meaning, while Petey refuses to acknowledge anything that is out of the ordinary by responding with short and empty answers. These conversations
exemplify the use of language that Ionesco criticizes, namely empty and ordinary. The audience recognizes these conversations as familiar, yet the repetition of the conversation at the end confronts this feeling of familiarity with a feeling of irrationality, a critical approach to conventional dialogue, adhering to the tradition of Absurdist theatre.
Another play by Pinter which resolves around power relations and existential problems regarding identity and meaning is The Caretaker. This play consists of three characters who keep attempting to assert power over each other. In order to examine these power relations, it is necessary to indicate what every character aims to realize and to what extent this is realized through language. At the start of the play, Davies is homeless and is given shelter by Aston. However, he keeps making new demands regarding his shoes and the clothes he is given: “No, don’t look the right size. […] Can’t wear shoes that don’t fit.” (23) Although Davies is naturally not in the position to make these demands, given that he does not have the means to get these items himself, his rejection of these societal norms makes him appear more
powerful in relation to Aston. When Mick makes his appearance, the power relations are shifted again. The stage directions at the beginning of act two show that Mick is even physically above Davies, seated on a chair while Davies is “on the floor, half seated, crouched” (39). Mick immediately places Davies into the position of someone who is homeless, and when he asks which bed Davies chose, he cynically remarks that Davies is “choosy” (40). The objection by Mick of Davies’ choosiness is a clear difference between the two brothers. While Aston gives in to Davies’ attempts to assert power, Mick criticizes Davies’ behaviour. Davies recognizes the difference in power and realizes that he cannot overcome it. Instead, he helps Mick to assert his position above his brother, in the hopes of benefiting from the second position within the hierarchical structure of the play. In act three,
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Davies is complimenting Mick for his straightforwardness (70) and equating himself with Mick by mentioning how they could work together:
You want to tell him… that we got ideas for this place, we could build it up, we could build it up, we could get it started. You see, I could decorate it out for you, I could give you a hand in doing it… between us. (72)
The repetition of ‘we’ indicates how eager Davies is to identify himself as an associate and to put himself at a similar level of power as Mick. He also speaks ill about Aston, claiming that “he’s got no feelings” (71).
All three characters show anxiety when it comes to their identity. For example, Mick is constantly describing himself as a successful man, and forms his identity through his self-proclaimed success as a business man with his own van. When his success is threatened by the realization that Davies is not an interior decorator, he immediately starts an argument with Davies that he is being misled, placing the blame entirely with Davies. Mick’s claims that Davies is violent, erratic, and completely unpredictable (82) can also be attributed to Mick himself, yet he refuses to take any responsibility for the misunderstanding, since this would damage his image as a successful business man. His anger towards Davies is therefore a manifestation of the anxiety that surrounds his identity. This anxiety can also be seen with his brother Aston, who describes himself as someone whose purpose it is to fix up the apartment. As someone whose cognitive abilities have been negatively affected by a surgery to rid him of his hallucinations, Aston struggles with the realization that he can no longer keep his thoughts straight (66), and gets hope and purpose from the prospect of fixing up the apartment and building the shed outside. Davies is aware of Aston’s anxiety about his mental state and the shed, and when he says that it is a “stinking shed” (77), Aston is pointing the knife towards Davies and is hurtful for the first time: “You have been stinking the place out” (78). At the end of the play, Davies has put both Aston and Mick against him, and
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immediately resorts to the idea of the shed: “I’ll give you a hand to put up your shed.” (85) It appears that he does not realize its actual meaning for Aston. The shed functions as prove of Aston’s usefulness, despite his cognitive disability. The last character that shows this kind of anxiety is Davies, who is a homeless man with no papers and traveling under a false name:
DAVIES. If only I could get down to Sidcup! I’ve been waiting for the weather to break. He’s got my papers, this man I left them with, it’s got it all down there, I could prove everything. (29)
Here Davies creates the illusion that his identity can be proven with these documents, he keeps making up excuses not to go to Sidcup. His false name and lack of papers indicate that he is an immigrant, and his anxiety to prove otherwise is evident from his own discriminatory position towards minorities:
DAVIES. […] Ten minutes off for a tea-break in the middle of the night in that place and I couldn’t find a seat, not one. All them Greeks had it, Poles, Greeks, Blacks, the lot of them, all them aliens had it. (17)
In this way, he both differentiates himself from the minorities as a form of
over-compensation, as well as attempts to socialize with the native population, adhering to their anti-immigration sentiments. Davies’ anxiety about his origins becomes especially evident when he is questioned about it:
ASTON. Where were you born?
DAVIES. I was… uh… oh, it’s a bit hard, like, to set your mind back… see what I mean… going back… a good way… lose a bit of track, like… you know… (34) Davies exhibits his skill as a proficient talker throughout the play, yet loses his confidence and ability to speak comprehensively when he is pressured about his heritage. As discussed before, the loss of voice indicates a loss of power, which is also the case here. As an
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immigrant, Davies is in a worse position of power in relation to the natives Mick and Aston. His constructed identity of Bernhard Jenkins gives him the appearance and confidence of a more powerful position, yet when this identity proves to be insufficient, Davies loses his voice and power as indicated by his stammering. Mick also uses this method when he first meets Davies, claiming that he resembles two people that he knows. The two biographies that Mick gives indicate Mick’s immediate assumption that Davies is an immigrant. As pointed out by Woodroffe, there is a “sharp contrast between the “native” and the “foreign” in these two portraits” (502). Thus, by comparing Davies to these two people, Mick implicitly questions the ethnicity of Davies, wondering whether he fits with the native or the foreign portrait. By doing so, Mick is emphasizing his own position as a native, and asserting power over Davies by exploiting the anxiety surrounding his ethnicity. All three characters show therefore anxiety concerning their identity, shown through their efforts to establish their particular identity, and challenging these identities becomes a way of asserting power.
In The Birthday Party, Goldberg and McCann utilize the defamiliarization of
language to stoke Stanley’s existential anxiety and to assert power. This is most evident from the interrogation scene, in which they keep asking question to Stanley. Although their
questions do have a few reoccurring aspects, for example the mentioning of an “organization” (48), they also contradict each other or seem unrelated to the rest of the questions. The
questions about Stanley’s wife for instance contradict each other: GOLDBERG. What have you done with your wife? MCCANN. He’s killed his wife!
[…]
GOLDBERG. Why did you never get married? MCCANN. She was waiting at the porch.
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Here Goldberg is using his command of language to indicate Stanley’s identity, and confuses him with the contradicting assertions about this identity. Within the chaos of the
interrogation, Stanley is pressured into believing he both killed his wife and never married at all. Goldberg’s skill concerning language becomes already evident earlier on, when he seduces both Lulu and Meg during his speech at the party. Goldberg is capable of using both the traditional manner in which language is used, as well going against the conventional use, and is able to assert power through both uses. However, as ordered as his words were during that scene, they are now used in a chaotic and disordered manner with the intent of unnerving Stanley. Language becomes an instrument of power, breaking Stanley’s defences and
undermining his self (Pesta 127). The interrogation works through a form of
defamiliarization. Both the audience and Stanley expect the questions to form a coherent whole, yet they remain incoherent and chaotic. The function of the words is therefore no longer based on the actual meaning. Instead, the questions themselves become an action through which Goldberg asserts power. This is also why Stanley is rendered dumb at the end of the scene, only able to utter “sounds from his throat” (84). Being rendered powerless by the defamiliarization of the words and no longer able to use language himself, Stanley needs to surrender himself to the power of Goldberg and McCann’s language. The whole
interrogation scene is a realized version of the process of the earlier mentioned denunciation of language that is argued by the Theatre of the Absurd, contradicting the automatic reaction of the audience to find order and meaning within the text. When comparing this scene to the conversations between Petey and Meg, the characters show different approaches to their existential problems, without one being superior to the other. When confronted with chaos and meaninglessness, Stanley gives in to a superior power and sacrifices his own power for it. Petey is aware of his meaningless existence and finds comfort in his routine, while Meg actively tries to find meaning and remains oblivious to most of what happened. Goldberg
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remains a difficult character to examine in these terms, since he does not reveal much about himself or a possible existential problem, and functions mainly as a superior and all-knowing character. His function is therefore the embodiment of a meta-narrative, a voice which gives meaning to characters who give in to him, such as Meg and Stanley.
The interrogation scene between Mick and Davies resembles the scene in The
Birthday Party. Davies is made inferior to him both physically as well as verbally, which is
done by constant interruptions by Mick: DAVIES. Now wait-
MICK. Listen, son. Listen, sonny. You stink. DAVIES. You ain’t the right to-
MICK. You’re stinking the place out. You’re an old robber, there’s no getting away with it. You’re an old skate. You don’t belong in a nice place like this. You’re an old barbarian. (44)
Just as Stanley lost his own voice and power at the end of the interrogation by Goldberg, so does Davies by Mick’s hand. Mick is asserting his power by not letting Davies speak. In addition, Mick also gives Davies an identity by pointing out similarities between Davies and his uncle’s brother (40) and someone he knew in Shoreditch (41). Mick is implying a
resemblance in both physical as well as character aspects, confusing Davies with these various identities. Even when he is telling him that he stinks and is nothing by “an old skate”, he follows it up with the possibility of Davies being an actual potential buyer for the
apartment. Although this can also be interpreted as another insult towards Davies, since his appearance makes it easy to assume that he does not have the financial means for such a purchase, the mentioning of this other identity by Mick is confusing for Davies either way. It is only through the appearance of Aston that Davies is able to recover his dignity by putting on his pants, escaping the aggressive questioning.
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The language of the oppressor in The Collection, and The Dumb Waiter
In order to further examine the relation between language and power, the plays The
Collection and The Dumb Waiter provide significant examples of the way in which language
is used as an instrument to realize certain goals, following Nigam’s definition of power. The title of The Dumb Waiter refers to several parts of the play that support a Marxist
interpretation. The significance of the dumbwaiter is emphasized by the play’s title, and it functions as a depiction of the cold and impersonal manner of correspondence between the two characters and the people who are above them. The orders that are given by people upstairs are deemed non-sensical by the two characters. When Ben is able to communicate with the people above, he is ordered to kill his partner. This illustrates how the higher power corrupts and mistreats the individuals below it. The title could also refer to either one of the two characters, since both are waiting the purpose of their waiting, giving meaning to their actions. As discussed before, Pinter adheres to the existential idea of meaning as something that is non-existent when it comes to humankind’s existence and deems trying to find meaning absurd. The waiting Ben and Gus can be equated with finding meaning, therefore making their waiting something that is deemed ‘dumb’ or absurd. In fact, their desire for meaning is corrupted by a higher power, which is represented metaphorically by the dumbwaiter.
The dialogue between Gus and Ben expresses their approaches to their waiting, in other words, their efforts to find meaning within their existence. When they discuss their working hours, Gus complains that they always have to wait for a call to come in. Ben claims that Gus’ problem stems from his lack of interest:
BEN. You haven’t got any interests. GUS. I’ve got interests.
35 Pause
GUS. I’ve got interests.
BEN. Look at me. What have I got? GUS. I don’t know. What?
BEN. I’ve got my woodwork. I’ve got my model boats. Have you ever seen me idle? I’m never idle. […] Then when a call comes, I’m ready.
GUS. Don’t you ever get a bit fed up?? BEN. Fed up? What with?
Silence (2819)
This passage shows several things, for example that their task-giver holds power over Gus and Ben, since he prohibits them of moving out of their house during their time off. Ben states that he distracts himself with hobbies, while Gus is denying the fact that he does not have any special interests. The two pauses indicate a moment of realization for each character when it comes to their own existence. The first pause is a moment for Gus to realize that he does not have the distractions that Ben has, and therefore is constantly aware of the power that the client holds over him. The later silence is a moment for Ben to realize that his interests are trivial and merely distractions from the inferior power that he has.
The dialogue between Ben and Gus exemplifies how Absurdist writing questions the fixed meaning of language. For example, during their conversation about making tea, Ben asks Gus to light the kettle, to which Gus responds that the phrase does not make sense (2823-2824). The discussion that ensues goes as far as Ben grabbing Gus by his throat and cursing at him. This display of anger might look like an overreaction to the audience, yet it presents a strong message regarding the uniformity of language. As Ionesco argued, everyday language is full of empty and meaningless phrases which can be pointed out in Absurdist
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writing. In this case, Gus is showing an Absurdist approach to the language used by Ben by pointing out how it does not work logically and that there are other alternatives of saying it. Ben on the other hand refuses to question the fixed meaning of language, which shows how he adheres to the ideology of the superior authority that agrees with him: “You know what he said? Light the kettle! Not put on the kettle!” (2832) Ben’s anger is a representation of the establishment’s attitude towards the Absurdist idea of language, for example by realist writers. Ben’s arguments against any alternative to his phrase “light the kettle” are therefore “it’s common usage” (2823) and “who’s the senior partner here, me or you?” (2823). These arguments are based on the infallibility of common speech (i.e. the system of the
establishment), and his own superior power as Gus’ senior partner. Gus’ doubt to whether the phrase is correct is therefore not only an Absurdist approach to language as something with no fixed meaning, it is also a violation of the power dynamic between Gus and Ben, which explains the violent reaction by Ben. It happens again when Gus asks how many times Ben has read the paper:
BEN. What are you doing, criticizing me? GUS. No, I was just –
BEN. You’ll get a swipe round your earhole if you don’t watch your step. GUS. Now look here, Ben –
BEN. I’m not looking anywhere! (2826)
Again, Ben refuses to accept any possible criticism from Gus as he deems himself to have superior power in comparison to him. As can be seen in both this passage as well as the previous one about the kettle, Ben’s immediate reaction is aggression and prohibiting Gus to speak. Even when Gus is urging Ben to calm down by saying “now look here”, Ben
immediately interprets this as a literal command, increasing his anger even more.
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functions as the climactic end to the waiting, followed by the realization of the meaning of the waiting. The silence that ensues when both characters are put against each other shows how their waiting was in fact meaningless, that their perceived roles within the greater scheme of things was misjudged and solely formed by a power literally beyond their reach. Their silence encompasses this realization, and the audience is left with a similar feeling of discomfort and realization. From a Marxist perspective, the ending functions as the inevitable outcome of Gus’ gradual revolt against the intangible greater power in the play. As discussed before, Gus is aware of the power that the client has over them, and does not distract himself with other interests like Ben. He is also more critical than his position allows him, and his absurdist approach to language places him opposite the establishment and therefore Ben. In other words, the ending shows how the superior power of the establishment mistreats
individuals by placing its followers against its opponents, both encouraging and discouraging a revolt against itself.
Pinter’s play The Collection fits into the tradition of Pinter’s writing by its absurdist approach to the truth, and the power struggles through its language. The play revolves around two couples who are constantly trying to assert power over both their own partner as well as the other couple. Its plot consists of the confusion around a meeting in Leeds between Stella and Bill, who are suspected of having committed adultery. However, the truth of what really happened remains obscured by changing accounts by both Stella and Bill, and the ambiguous relationship between Bill and Harry. The reluctance of Bill and Stella to tell the truth can be attributed to their guilt towards their partner, yet given the tradition of the Theatre of the Absurd, it also shows an inability to convey the truth accurately. While James and Harry are trying to find out what happened, they are searching for meaning in the incident,
One significant deviation from the earlier mentioned uses of language as a means of asserting power, is the manner in which silences are used in the play. Pinter’s other work
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often includes the use of silences to indicate a loss of power. However, The Collection has silences which are used to assert power by the characters. One example of this is the reversal of power between Stella and James, which is conveyed through their use of silences. At the beginning of the play, Stella asks James a few questions, to which James only smiles or not responds at all:
STELLA. What are you going to do?
He looks at her, with a brief smile, then away.
Jimmy…
Pause.
Are you going out?
Pause
Will you… be in tonight? (122)
The desperate tone of Stella combined with the dismissive attitude of James shows a picture of the power relations within their relationship. James’ reluctance to answer indicates that he blames Stella for her alleged adultery, and Stella’s insistence on his presence that evening emphasizes her desperation and inferior power. This interpretation is supported by the reversal of the scene at the end of the play, in which James has just confronted with Bill’s final account of the event in Leeds, and is faced to accept his mistake regarding his attitude:
JAMES. You didn’t do anything, did you?
Pause.
He wasn’t in your room. You just talked about it, in the lounge.
Pause.
That’s the truth, isn’t it?
