Orwell states that it was enlightening. I assume he is referring to the work of the elephant was something interesting that he did. As he wrote, it was a tiny incident in itself, but it helped him realized what the true government was and how they worked with issues occurring in the area. In this case, the issue was the elephant. In the conclusion of the life experience, Orwell shoots the elephant; he did not want to look like a fool to all of the people that were watching him.
He had the power and authority to do so. The two things, the elephant and imperialism are the two things that Orwell uses. He has lost his freedom to think for himself as his hand is pushed by those who are being tyrannized. Imperialism affects the oppressed as well as the oppressor. Because it is an immoral relationship of power, it compels the oppressor to act immorally to keep up appearances that he is right.
On the one hand he is regarded as a wise ruler, but on the other he knows he is wrong in what he does but must behave in such a way to disquise this. I'm assuming that you mean theme rather than thesis. One these of Orwell's short story "Shooting an Elephant" is the effect of the masses on the individual. The narrator of the story shoots and kills an elephant that is no no longer dangerous to the Burmese village. He kills the elephant because he does not want to appear a fool in front of a crowd of Burmese, numbering in the thousands.
If you dig a little deeper, though, you will see that Orwell is showing us the effects of imperialism. When a powerful nation exploits the people of another country, the resulting tension causes everyone to become somewhat savage. The narrator is a British police officer, and even though he sympathicizes with the plight of the Burmese, he despises their contempt for him, as a representative of the British empire. To me, the thesis and main point of Orwell's essay is that imperialism is bad.
He argues that it is bad for the ruling people and he argues that it is bad for the people who are ruled. Orwell shows in the beginning of the essay how colonialism degrades the colonized people.
They come to hate the colonizers so much that they will spit on them out of spite whenever they get the chance. Orwell feels that this sort of fairly inhuman behavior would not happen without colonialism. Orwell also shows that the colonizers come to hate the people they rule. They hate them, in part, because the people force the colonizers to do things like shooting the elephant that they do not want to do.
Imperialism, to Orwell, causes both the rulers and the ruled to lose their dignity and their integrity. Orwell's widely anthologized non-fiction essay "Shooting an Elephant" has an implied thesis: Orwell felt pressured by the people, almost overwhelmed by their power over him through their mere presence. His choice of words shows that he resented and disliked the Burmese. Orwell shoots the elephant because the two thousand native people standing behind him expect him to. They want vengeance for the man it killed, the meat the carcass will provide, and the entertainment of watching the shooting.
Despotic governments result from the need to maintain power over subtly resistant people. Orwell points to the irony that he stood armed in front of an unarmed crowd, yet he was powerless to do as he wished or as his judgment told him. Expert Answers Karen P. Orwell's thesis can be paraphrased as stating that imperialism tears apart and out the heart and soul of both peoples--the oppressors' heart and soul and the oppressed's --and is well encapsulated in the following long quotation that both ends his background introduction necessary to establish time, place and mood and leads into the heart of his narration: Doug Stuva Certified Educator.
And my whole life, every white man's life in the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed at. But I did not want to shoot the elephant. I watched him beating his bunch of grass against his knees, with that preoccupied grandmotherly air that elephants have.
It seemed to me that it would be murder to shoot him. At that age I was not squeamish about killing animals, but I had never shot an elephant and never wanted to. Besides, there was the beast's owner to be considered. Alive, the elephant was worth at least a hundred pounds; dead, he would only be worth the value of his tusks, five pounds, possibly. But I had got to act quickly. I turned to some experienced-looking Burmans who had been there when we arrived, and asked them how the elephant had been behaving.
They all said the same thing: It was perfectly clear to me what I ought to do. I ought to walk up to within, say, twenty-five yards of the elephant and test his behavior. If he charged, I could shoot; if he took no notice of me, it would be safe to leave him until the mahout came back.
But also I knew that I was going to do no such thing. I was a poor shot with a rifle and the ground was soft mud into which one would sink at every step.
If the elephant charged and I missed him, I should have about as much chance as a toad under a steam-roller. But even then I was not thinking particularly of my own skin, only of the watchful yellow faces behind.
For at that moment, with the crowd watching me, I was not afraid in the ordinary sense, as I would have been if I had been alone. A white man mustn't be frightened in front of "natives"; and so, in general, he isn't frightened.
The sole thought in my mind was that if anything went wrong those two thousand Burmans would see me pursued, caught, trampled on and reduced to a grinning corpse like that Indian up the hill.
And if that happened it was quite probable that some of them would laugh. That would never do. There was only one alternative. I shoved the cartridges into the magazine and lay down on the road to get a better aim.
The crowd grew very still, and a deep, low, happy sigh, as of people who see the theatre curtain go up at last, breathed from innumerable throats. They were going to have their bit of fun after all. The rifle was a beautiful German thing with cross-hair sights. I did not then know that in shooting an elephant one would shoot to cut an imaginary bar running from ear-hole to ear-hole.
I ought, therefore, as the elephant was sideways on, to have aimed straight at his ear-hole, actually I aimed several inches in front of this, thinking the brain would be further forward.
When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or feel the kick--one never does when a shot goes home--but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went up from the crowd. In that instant, in too short a time, one would have thought, even for the bullet to get there, a mysterious, terrible change had come over the elephant.
He neither stirred nor fell, but every line of his body had altered. He looked suddenly stricken, shrunken, immensely old, as though the frighfful impact of the bullet had paralysed him without knocking him down. At last, after what seemed a long time--it might have been five seconds, I dare say--he sagged flabbily to his knees. An enormous senility seemed to have settled upon him. One could have imagined him thousands of years old.
I fired again into the same spot. At the second shot he did not collapse but climbed with desperate slowness to his feet and stood weakly upright, with legs sagging and head drooping. I fired a third time. That was the shot that did for him. You could see the agony of it jolt his whole body and knock the last remnant of strength from his legs. But in falling he seemed for a moment to rise, for as his hind legs collapsed beneath him he seemed to tower upward like a huge rock toppling, his trunk reaching skyward like a tree.
He trumpeted, for the first and only time. And then down he came, his belly towards me, with a crash that seemed to shake the ground even where I lay. The Burmans were already racing past me across the mud. It was obvious that the elephant would never rise again, but he was not dead. He was breathing very rhythmically with long rattling gasps, his great mound of a side painfully rising and falling.
His mouth was wide open--I could see far down into caverns of pale pink throat. I waited a long time for him to die, but his breathing did not weaken. Finally I fired my two remaining shots into the spot where I thought his heart must be. The thick blood welled out of him like red velvet, but still he did not die. His body did not even jerk when the shots hit him, the tortured breathing continued without a pause.
He was dying, very slowly and in great agony, but in some world remote from me where not even a bullet could damage him further.
- George Orwells Shooting an Elephant In George Orwell's essay "Shooting An Elephant," he writes about racial prejudice. Orwell is a British officer in Burma. The author is, "for the Burmese and all against their oppressors, the British"().
elephant has to be killed, like a mad dog, if its owner fails to control it. Among the Europeans opinion was divided. The older men said I was right, the younger men said .
Shooting An Elephant Essay Words | 6 Pages. The story that my evaluation will be based on is Shooting an Elephant written in The author George Orwell was born in in India to a British officer raised in England. He attended Eton College, which introduced him to England’s middle and upper classes. The essay "Shooting an Elephant" is set in a town in southern Burma during the colonial period. The country that is today Burma (Myanmar) was, during the time of Orwell's experiences in the colony, a province of India, itself a British colony. Prior to British intervention in the nineteenth century Burma was a sovereign kingdom.
Shooting an Elephant study guide contains a biography of George Orwell, literature essays, quiz questions, major themes, characters, and a full summary and analysis. Shooting an Elephant analysis Giving in can either be good or bad. Whether large or miniscule, situations that are faced everyday require serious decisions. As humans, we sometimes have the inability to decide. In, “ Shooting An Elephant”, choices are made for the pleasure of others. The theme in this short autobiographical essay deeply .