ANIMAL FARM

Author: George Orwell
Year: 1962 (1945)
Publisher: Penguin Books
Language: English

Let’s not complicate things: “Animal Farm” is simple. It is by all standards a straightforward and easy novel to understand, with little to no hidden meaning or subtext to explore. George Orwell, its author, does not cloak his ideas in dense symbolism or ambiguous allegory; rather, he presents a transparent political fable whose parallels to historical events and figures are direct, intentional, and unmistakable. On the nose, one might even be tempted to say. Yet this accessibility is a defining feature of the text. Orwell’s purpose is not to invite endless interpretive speculation but to instruct, warn, and criticise through clarity. As a journalist, he wants to help you understand; not challenge you to dig through layer upon layer of obscure symbolism.

The novel recounts the rebellion of farm animals against their human owner, Mr. Jones, after they are inspired by the ideals of equality and collective ownership articulated by the aging hog Old Major. Following a successful uprising, the animals establish a new society based on shared labour and common benefit. However, a group of pigs gradually assume leadership roles, consolidating power over the other animals and altering the farm’s guiding principles to serve their own interests. Over time, the revolutionary ideals erode entirely, culminating in a regime that is indistinguishable from, and arguably worse than, the human tyranny it replaced. The simplicity of this plot mirrors the simplicity of the historical trajectory Orwell critiques: the rise, corruption, and betrayal of revolutionary movements.

The characters all correspond to historical persons or events.

Old Major, who represents Karl Marx, functions primarily as an ideological catalyst rather than an active participant in events. Like Marx, Major articulates a theoretical vision of liberation rooted in equality and collective struggle, but he does not live to see how his ideas are implemented, or indeed distorted. His speech lays out the moral foundation of the rebellion, yet its vagueness leaves ample room for manipulation. Orwell suggests that abstract theory, when detached from practical safeguards, is vulnerable to appropriation by those seeking power rather than justice.

Mr. Jones embodies negligent and decaying authority and is based on Tsar Nicholas II. He is neither competent nor particularly malicious; instead, his downfall results from indifference and failure to recognise the needs of those he governs. Orwell portrays Jones not as a uniquely evil ruler but as a dysfunctional one, whose removal seems inevitable.

Napoleon’s role as Joseph Stalin is one of the novel’s most overt parallels. Napoleon is defined by his brutality, secrecy, and obsession with control. He does not persuade through reason or charisma but rules through fear, violence, and the systematic elimination of rivals. Orwell’s portrayal emphasizes the transformation of revolutionary leadership into authoritarian dictatorship, underscoring how power, once centralised, tends to perpetuate itself regardless of ideological justification.

Moses, representing the Church, occupies a marginal yet symbolically important position. His tales of Sugarcandy Mountain provide comfort and distraction, offering spiritual consolation that discourages resistance. Orwell presents religion not as an active oppressor but as a tool tolerated or suppressed depending on its usefulness to those in power. In practice it serves to pacify suffering rather than alleviating it.

Mr. Frederick of Pinchfield, symbolising Nazi Germany, is characterised by aggression, deceit, and opportunism. His eventual betrayal of Napoleon highlights the fragility of alliances formed purely on convenience. In contrast, Mr. Pilkington of Foxwood, representing the British government, is portrayed as complacent, self-interested, and ultimately accommodating. Orwell suggests that external powers are less concerned with justice than with stability and self-preservation.

Boxer, the embodiment of the uneducated and naïve working class, is the novel’s most tragic figure. His unwavering loyalty, physical strength, and simplistic maxims, render him indispensable yet disposable. Orwell’s treatment of Boxer illustrates how exploitation thrives not only through cruelty but through misplaced trust and lack of critical awareness.

Squealer, the propagandist, is perhaps Orwell’s most scathing creation. He embodies the machinery of misinformation, manipulation, and rhetorical deceit that sustains tyranny. Squealer’s power lies not in strength or intelligence but in his frantic eagerness to serve authority. He is weak, subservient, and hysterically devoted to justifying every abuse committed by his masters. Orwell’s contempt for such figures is palpable. Mouthpieces like Squealer thrive not because they believe in truth, but because they crave proximity to power. Their worthlessness is masked by their utility, and their moral emptiness by their loud orations.

Snowball’s function as a representation of Leon Trotsky is one of “Animal Farm’s” most historically interesting parallels. Like Trotsky, Snowball is an intellectual architect of the revolution, distinguished by energy, eloquence, and a genuine commitment to improving collective life. Trotsky played a central role in the Bolshevik Revolution and later organised the Red Army. Similarly, Snowball is instrumental in defending Animal Farm and shaping its early policies. His emphasis on education, committees, and long-term planning reflects Trotsky’s belief in modernisation and ideological development.

The windmill project closely mirrors Trotsky’s advocacy of rapid industrialisation and technological progress. Snowball envisions a future in which labour is reduced and productivity increased, while Napoleon dismisses such ideas in favour of consolidating personal power. This ideological divide echoes Trotsky’s conflict with Stalin, whose rise depended less on visions than on control and violence.

In sum, “Animal Farm” achieves its enduring impact precisely because of its clarity. Orwell strips political catastrophe of complexity to reveal its recurring patterns, making the novel not a cryptic allegory but an unmistakable warning which rightfully occupies its unquestionable position in any Wester school curriculum. One may only hope, that the ears of future generations do not grow deaf to its message. Authoritarianism, after all, does not thrive among the wicked as much as among the ignorant.

Special shoutout to Paul Hogarth for the evocative cover art.