Zero points, shit in rivers, and weeping at Margaret's grave

I got an uncanny feeling of déjà vu when watching the recent Channel 4 drama about water company pollution, Dirty Business

A teacher, Reuben, gets an infection when surfing in sewage encrusted waters. Periodic attacks involving writhing on the floor and vomiting mean he has to give up his job. He applies for disability benefits but gets zero points because, as the assessor keeps repeating, when he is not having an attack, he functions normally (3^rd episode, 20.43).

You can see the tired resignation creep across Reuben’s face, as he realises that the fact he does have regular attacks which make him unemployable is completely irrelevant to the assessment.

This is so evocative of the hundreds of thousands of sick and disabled people deemed fit for work points in the roll-out of the Work Capability Assessment under the Con-Lib Dem coalition. They got zero points too because although they couldn’t do any job that existed in the real world, by reaching above their head or into their top pocket once, they revealed that they could do an entirely abstract form of work.

At the time, there were futile calls for a real-world test to take account of what jobs actually demanded people could do repeatedly (as jobs tend to). But these were slammed down by the government in the shape of employment minister Chris Grayling who declared himself “absolutely, unreservedly and implacably” opposed to such a real-world test.

Current Labour DWP enforcer Pat McFadden doesn’t need to signal his opposition to a real-world test – it’s taken as read that it’s a total non-starter. The unbending focus now is on reducing the numbers of people qualifying for Personal Independence Payments (PIP) (which is what the teacher in Dirty Business applies for) despite the fact that 300,000 claims a year are rejected.

Labour did want to make the PIP criteria much tougher, something even Iain Duncan Smith found too much to stomach, but plans were put on hold as a result of an unexpected rebellion of backbench drones. But they will undoubtedly be repackaged as a result of the Timms Review now out for consultation.

Nothing better illustrates the duopoly afflicting the allegedly adversarial British political system than the treatment of sick and disabled people. The default consensus that they are ‘taking the mickey’ and deserve to be punished for having the temerity to have something wrong with them, which is probably half in the mind anyway.

The attitude, as John Pring shows in The Department, can be traced back to the dog days of the Thatcher administration, when health minister and “Mr Privatisation” John Moore wrote to chief secretary to the Treasury John Major, saying rising spending on sickness benefits needed to be tackled, with ‘no choice’ but to make ‘long-term savings’.

In the old system, i.e. invalidity benefit which existed before the testing regime began in the early ’90s, the ‘overriding consideration’ had been one of reasonableness, with the claimants’ ability to work measured against jobs which existed in the real world.  But that is a bygone era in British history. Hence the assessor’s monolithic insistence that when the ex-teacher in Dirty Business was not having a debilitating attack, he was perfectly able to do a job. The fact that vanishingly few employers would want to employ someone who involuntarily squirmed around on the floor every week, being sick everywhere, is not the state’s problem.

Have a nice day.

As of the beginning of this month, new claimants in the Limited Capacity for Work Related Activity Group of the Health element of Universal Credit (formerly Employment and Support Allowance) will have to survive on £50 a week, a nearly 50% cut from the £97 they previously received. This is so the ‘perverse incentive’ to apply for sickness benefit is removed. Actually, there is now a ‘perverse incentive’ to say there is nothing wrong with you even though there is, to ensure against the possibility that you will be judged unfit for work and placed in the LCRWA group.

This, in case you needed any reminder, is being carried through by a ‘Labour’ government. I remember being told in 2020 – by some young careerist working his way up the greasy pole at a meeting to choose the Labour leadership candidate which the CLP I was in would support – to “think of the most vulnerable person” I knew and then cast my vote for Sir Kier Starmer.

What he forgot to say was that if I harboured some sadistic desire to make them suffer even more, I should vote for Starmer.

As Dirty Business makes clear, there is a unity of purpose between the ‘Labour’ party and the Conservatives, which was briefly under threat in the four years before 2020 (which now resemble some strange hallucination). And the wretched consensus is not merely about how to treat the chronically ill.

As the programme recalls, David Cameron promised to tear up 3,000 pieces of needless regulation in order, he claimed, to release the growth potential of the British economy. Over a decade later, Starmer wrote to all 17 regulators in the UK telling them to relax rules for companies. This has resulted in a steep decline in enforcement actions, as they obediently scrabble to fall into line with the government’s so-called growth agenda.

And where has this deregulatory mania got us (aside from turds in rivers that is)? In the 18 years after the Financial Crisis of 2008, the economy has grown by 22% (an average rate of under 1%), while in the 18 years prior to 2008 it grew by 53% – more than twice as fast (and that record was terrible compared to the social democratic post-war years). But do carry on, won’t you.

We are in the grip of necrophile Thatcherism and it’s killing us. Some more than others, admittedly.

George Orwell, Communism and the Danger of Seeing the World Through Fiction

 

Despite being one of the greatest essayists in the history of the English language, George Orwell’s fame rests largely on two novels written near the end of this life – Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four.

Superficially they are about the same subject – the degeneration of Communism from something promising freedom and equality into its opposite. But because of when they were written, they are very different.

The time-gap between their creation, a mere three or four years, is so small as to appear irrelevant. But despite that, they inhabit separate epochs.

The first, Animal Farm, was written at the height of the Second World War alliance between Stalin and the West, between 1943 and 1944, and is about how Communism morphs into something as exploitative as capitalism. The book ends with the pig dictator, Napoleon, (an obvious portrayal of Joseph Stalin) changing the name of Animal Farm back to what it was under the ‘old regime’ when humans were in charge.

Nineteen Eighty-Four, meanwhile, was written as the Cold War began (between 1946 and 1948), and is about how communism vanquishes capitalism – “unquestionably the capitalists had been expropriated” — with the result that inequality and oligarchy become permanent.

Ingsoc – originally “English socialism” – is the ideology of Oceania, which incorporates Britain, and is one of the three huge blocs into which the world is divided. In the neighbouring bloc – Eurasia – the philosophy is called Neo-Bolshevism, which comes into being after Europe is absorbed by Russia. The three philosophies in control of the world are, according to Orwell, “barely distinguishable” and “the social systems which they support are not distinguishable at all”.

With his bushy moustache, Big Brother even looks like Stalin. The fact that ostensibly totally loyal party members are regularly purged in Oceania is also redolent of Stalinism. One notable feature of Stalin’s rule in Soviet Union, later adopted by other ‘Stalinoid’ countries like Czechoslovakia and North Korea, is that being a devoted Stalinist didn’t save you. The vast majority of delegates to the 17^th Communist party “Victors’ Congress” in Moscow, so-called because the ‘Stalinists’ used it to celebrate their victory over inner party opposition, were subsequently arrested and executed.

Orwell’s sporadic attempts to liken the ideology of Oceania to Fascism as much as to Communism were quite feeble.

For example, as he is torturing the hero Winston Smith, inner party bigwig O’Brien reflects on the Party’s place in history:

The German Nazis and Russian Communists came very close to use in their methods but they never had the courage to recognize their own motives. They pretended, perhaps they even believed, they have seized power unwillingly and for a limited time, and that just round the corner there lay a paradise where humans beings would be free and equal. We are not like that.

But the Nazis never claimed, or even pretended, to have taken power temporarily. They wanted, as they repeatedly said, to usher in a “thousand-year Reich”. Nor did they profess any belief in freedom and equality. On the contrary, they fervently believed in profound racial and social inequality, and acted out those beliefs with devastating consequences. Orwell feels like he should make some cursory reference to Nazism, which after all had just ravaged Europe, killed tens of millions of people and carried out a genocide, but he really just wants to expose Stalinism.

Some works of fiction, and this specially applies to Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four have an influence far beyond any literary merits they may have (and Orwell was a great writer). They enable people, often far better than works of non-fiction, to make sense of the world. And this is the problem with both novels. Though they impart great insights, they are partial. And in the world we are now entering, that of corporate Fascism, this partiality is only becoming more glaring.

Animal Farm gives hints of this, which become more flagrant in Nineteen Eighty-Four. In the former, the West (then Britain and France basically) is represented by Pilkington* of Foxwood Farm – “a large, neglected, old-fashioned farm”. Napoleon (Stalin), the leader of Animal Farm, vacillates between making deals with Pilkington or the other neighbouring farmer Frederick, who is a cypher for Hitler.

Napoleon finally puts his lot in with Frederick, only to be double-crossed and attacked (the Battle of the Windmill which represents the 1941 Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union). This is how Orwell portrays the episode:

Wistful glances were sent in the direction of Foxwood. If Pilkington and his men would help them, the day might yet be won. But at that moment, the four pigeons, who had been sent out the day before, returned, one of them bearing a scrap of paper from Pilkington. On it was pencilled the words: ‘Serves you right’.

But this doesn’t bear any relation to what actually happened historically, misrepresenting both the two-timing character of Stalin and the rightful moral effrontery of the West. In reality, Stalin (Napoleon) resorted to the deal with the Nazis (Frederick) – the Nazi-Soviet Pact, which was ended by the surprise German attack on the Soviet Union – only after years of fruitlessly trying to interest the West (Pilkington) in a military alliance against Germany (Frederick), even formally requesting an alliance in April 1939 and then offering to invade Germany with a million troops on eve of the outbreak of the Second World War.

Meanwhile the West (Pilkington) continually rebuffed Stalin’s (Napoleon’s) overtures, hoping, unsuccessfully, to convince the Nazis to leave the West alone and be satisfied with devouring the Soviet Union. Negotiations with ‘moderate’ Nazis (i.e. not Hitler) who would agree to ‘limit’ their ambitions in this fashion even continued after the Second World War had begun. They only ended after Churchill became Prime Minister.

In short, Orwell’s representation of events is almost the exact opposite of what actually happened.

Orwell’s rose-tinted view of the British elite can be seen in the war-time pamphlet the Lion and the Unicorn (sub-titled Socialism and the English Genius and written just before Animal Farm). There Orwell was trying to drum up support for the war by emphasising its patriotic underpinnings – ironically precisely what Stalin was doing in the Soviet Union.

In that book, the English are presented as a “rather stuffy Victorian family” which thwarts the young and cedes all the power to “irresponsible uncles and bedridden aunts”.

But in truth, as I think Orwell recognised deep down, the British elite was more malign than old-fashioned and thoughtless. They were, in more modern language, ‘Fascism enablers’.

The appeasement Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, for example, not only tried to do a with deal with Hitler so that he would exclusively turn his guns to the East but also previously pushed – unsuccessfully he was only the Chancellor of the Exchequer at the time – for the British government negotiate a non-aggression pact with Fascist Japan. This was after Japan had invaded the Chinese region of Manchuria in 1931 (it is a fact still barely recognised in the West that the Second World War in Asia began far earlier than the one in Europe).

But Orwell’s attitude, intimated in Animal Farm, of concentrating on the dangers posed by the official enemy while downplaying the sins of one’s own ‘side’, pervades Nineteen Eighty-Four. Indeed, with the coming of the Cold War, it became all-consuming. In the fictional Oceania the doctrine of Ingsoc grows out of “English socialism” while the Russians have absorbed continental Europe, imposing something called “Neo-Bolshevism”. Fascism, resting on slave labour, war and genocide, though clearly a recent memory, is nowhere in sight.

This is despite the fact that Fascism, or at least extreme right authoritarianism that routinely kills and tortures political opponents, became the norm after the Second World War in the part of the world – which was most of it – controlled by the West. Think of Suharto in Indonesia, the Shah in Iran, Mobutu in the Congo, the succession of genocidal generals ruling Guatemala, or Pinochet in Chile. Europe wasn’t immune either. Right-wing dictators presided over Spain, Portugal, and Greece in the late 1960s, all of which were, by the way, loyal members of Nato.

 As the writer Michael Parenti put it in 1969, “our fear that communism might someday take over most of the world blinds us to the fact that anti-communism already has”.

And the one thing that really defines Fascism is obsessive anti-communism. In 1936 Nazi Germany and Fascist Japan signed an alliance called the Anti-Comintern Pact (Comintern being an abbreviation of the Soviet Communist International). Later Mussolini’s Italy and Fascist regimes in Spain and Hungary joined.

Despite the fact that Communism, with the exception of isolated hold-outs, is no more, the influence of Nineteen Eighty-Four is so great that we are still trapped within its mental architecture. European leaders delude themselves that the real threat to Greenland comes from China and Russia, even though the corporate fascist in the White House openly threatens to invade it.

Our politicians obsess over the phantom of Russia attacking Europe – clearly a vestige of Cold War propaganda about the Soviet threat – but happily pave the way for the quasi-Fascist Reform ‘party’ (appropriately enough it’s actually a limited company) to become the next government.

And Reform looks to Dubai as a model for the society it wishes to create. Dubai is part of the United Arab Emirates, a country “owned” by the Royal Family that rules over it. Dissent is not allowed. In Dubai, 92% of the population (all immigrants without rights) serve (and that is an appropriate word) a wealthy elite that regards the city as a sun-filled playground. Corporate Fascism is an accurate description.

Like imperialism, Fascism is one of those things we can only see in inverted commas, as archaic accusations coming from fevered, extreme leftists. But both are real, and in the First World, becoming realer by the month. That we suffer from such intellectual blindness owes a lot to the aura of the undoubtedly great work of fiction, Nineteen Eighty-Four.

* The fact that in the new Andy Serkis version of Animal Farm the billionaire who plots to take over Animal Farm is called Frieda Pilkington is possibly an indication that it’s not as dumb as people make out.

 

Animal Balm – The Noble Art of Getting Orwell Wrong

 

 

The trailer for the new Andy Serkis (Lord of the Rings) directed reimagining of Animal Farm has caused apoplexy among the right-wing guardians of George Orwell’s true message. With which there can be absolutely no messing. By order of God himself.

As is well known, Orwell’s novella is a thinly-veiled allegory of the descent of the Russian Revolution into Stalinist totalitarianism and repression. The dream of freedom and equality and liberation from human slavery is gradually turned into a nightmare of repression by the domination of the pigs, led by Napoleon (Stalin). In the end, the animals of Animal Farm are worse off and work harder than animals on neighbouring human-run farms. “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”

This is where communism leads so don’t go getting any ideas is what they want you to think Animal Farm is saying.

Serkis’s unpardonable sin is to have ‘updated’ the plot of Animal Farm to make it about capitalism. The film, 15 years in the making apparently but only a trailer has been made public so far, has a tech billionaire plotting to take over Animal Farm and allying with pig dictator Napoleon to do so. Rather than leading a communist enclave, Napoleon now craves to “belong among the ruthless human billionaires”. And there are fart jokes, which last I checked weren’t in the original book.

Cue a predictable torrent of outrage from the sentinels guarding Saint George’s official message. The new Animal Farm is a “complete perversion of the book”, “they literally INVERTED Orwell’s message”, “It guts the entirety of the book’s message,” “Orwell must be spinning in his grave”, etc, etc.

Central Unintelligence Agency

It might be possible to take this avalanche of offence more seriously if the film adaptations of Animal Farm that have already been made, such as the iconic CIA-financed 1954 animation, weren’t also – while, unlike Serkis, outwardly sticking to the original plot – “complete perversions of the book”.

The problem for it seems almost everyone who wants to adapt Animal Farm is the way Orwell ends it *. In the final chapter, neighbouring farmers, including the old established farmer Mr Pilkington, come to visit the now unassailable pigs on Animal Farm. In the analogies of the book, Pilkington represents the West (Britain and France basically) while another farmer, Mr Frederick, who brutally mistreats his animals and leads a failed attempt to destroy Animal Farm (‘The Battle of the Windmill’, the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union) is a stand-in for Hitler.

“Years later” it is Pilkington who comes to Animal Farm clutching an olive branch, lauding the fact that “a long period of mistrust and misunderstanding” was now over. “Between pigs and humans,” he declares, “there was not, and there need not be, any clash of interest whatever …. If you have your lower animals to contend with … we have our lower classes.”

A gratified Napoleon clinks beer mugs with Pilkington, regretting the unfortunate misconception that Animal Farm had been trying to stir up rebellions by other animals on neighbouring farms. He then announces that, henceforth, Animal Farm will revert to its old pre-rebellion name under Mr Jones, the Manor Farm.

There then comes Orwell’s kicker of a last line:

The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and looked from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

Seriously, could this be any more obvious? Orwell is saying that the communists, Stalinists whatever you want to call them, were becoming indistinguishable from the exploitative capitalist countries that surrounded them, a fact celebrated by the latter.

But such an ending was unacceptable to the CIA in 1954. In that adaptation of Animal Farm, “pig delegates come from far and wide” ** to celebrate their supremacy with Napoleon. No human is in sight. This scene so incenses the watching animals that they rise up in revolt, overthrowing their porcine overlords. This was described by one critic as “a wholesale inversion of Orwell’s ending”.

Ironically, in portraying the pig dictator Napoleon’s “desperation to belong among ruthless human billionaires”, the new version of Animal Farm may be truer to Orwell’s actual message than its supposedly more faithful predecessors.

The History Nobody Knows

Because the events and history that Orwell was drawing on in the conclusion of Animal Farm have been deliberately forgotten, and in the current era of compulsory Russophobia are unlikely to be remembered. The uncomfortable kernel of that history is that Stalinism, while internally incredibly repressive (in that sense the story of Animal Farm hit the nail on the head) was externally totally hostile to revolution, desiring nothing more than, in Orwell’s words in Animal Farm, “normal business relations” with its capitalist neighbours.

Orwell was inspired to write Animal Farm (and its equally famous successor Nineteen Eighty-Four) by his experience in fighting on the Republican side against the Fascists in the Spanish Civil War in 1937. There he saw first-hand the role of the Soviet Union (then run by one man, Joseph Stalin) in destroying the anarchist and syndicalist revolution that had gripped Catalonia and other Northern provinces and that Orwell enthusiastically supported.

In the only instance of Stalin’s feared secret police (Napoleon’s dogs) operating in a Western European country, left-wing opponents of the Communist party were hunted down, tortured and disappeared. You can see something of this atmosphere in the Ken Loach film Land and Freedom. Orwell himself feared for his life and had to secretly slip across the border to France.

Contrary to the presumption of Western historians that in the 70 years of its existence the Soviet Union had an unvarying policy of fomenting world socialist revolution, the actions of Stalin and his henchmen in Spain were aimed at reversing a revolution. “The Russians,” as Orwell was later to write, did “all in their power to crush the Spanish revolutionary movements, defend private property and hand power to the middle class as against the working class”.

Why on earth would devout ‘communists’ do that? The answer lies in Stalin’s (prolonged) desire to do nothing to offend the Western capitalist countries in the hope that they would agree to ally with the Soviet Union against the threat of Nazi Germany. This alliance – the so-called ‘Grand Alliance – did eventually come about after the Nazis invaded the Soviet Union in 1941 but it was a definite last resort for Britain and France who would have much preferred that Hitler leave the West alone and concentrate on the barbarians to the East.

Stalin pursued the same policy in the Grand Alliance – that of appeasing the Right and supporting non-Fascist conservatives in the West – as he did in the Spanish Civil War. For example, in the so-called ‘Salerno Turn’ of March 1944, Italian Communist party leader Palmira Togliatti – under instructions from Moscow – joined with ex-Fascists and monarchists in a unity government and disbanded the Communist resistance. In war-time Britain, the Communist party, in decidedly non-revolutionary fashion, threw its weight behind Conservative party candidates in by-elections.

Animal Farm was written between November 1943 and February 1944, i.e. when this war-time alliance between official Communism and actually existing capitalism was in full bloom. And many people overlook the fact that the book was not merely a barely disguised history of the Russian Revolution and the depredations on Stalinism in the 1930s, it was also a prediction. The last historical event ‘covered’ by Animal Farm was probably the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union – in the book ‘The Battle of the Windmill’. The animals, at immense cost, beat back Mr Frederick’s (Hitler’s) men. Although, at the time Orwell was writing Germany hadn’t yet been expelled from the Soviet Union, it was clearly going to happen.

Thereafter, and especially in the last chapter (‘Years passed…’), the book becomes Orwell’s prediction of what would happen, based on what was already happening in the ‘Grand Alliance’ between Stalin and the West. That capitalism and communism would merge, or to be more specific communism would become indistinguishable from capitalism, losing all traces of its revolutionary origins. Symbolically, in the penultimate page of the book, Napoleon/Stalin announces that Animal Farm will no longer be called Animal Farm – it will revert to the name it had under the ‘old regime’ of Mr Jones.

Of course, as it turned out, none of this actually occurred. Rather than converging, Stalinist communism and Western capitalism faced each other down for decades in the Cold War – ironically a term coined by Orwell himself in 1945. Stalin instituted socialist revolutions from above in Eastern Europe and the Baltic states and the West seriously considered invading the Soviet Union after Nazi Germany was no more.

But two things should be borne in mind. Outside of the confines of its buffer, Soviet communism remained non-revolutionary even, in Orwell description, “counter revolutionary”. Stalin and his successors never reneged on the “percentages agreement” hammered out with Churchill in October 1944, whereby each side was given control over its zone. This is why Italian and French Communists tamely left post-WW2 governing coalitions in their respective countries despite the huge well of support they enjoyed after leading the war-time resistance, and why Britain and America were given carte blanche to fight the Left in Greece (in fact also while the Second World War was still raging). This was their zone and they could do what they wanted in it.

Secondly, Stalin did avidly court the West (notwithstanding the interlude of the Nazi-Soviet pact) for about a decade (1934 to 1944). And this was the context in which George Orwell wrote Animal Farm.

After the Thaw

However, the passing of the Cold War and of the state that Stalin led for 29 years did not lead to more honest adaptations of Animal Farm. The ending of the 1999 Babe-style version (with talking animals) is, if anything, even more ridiculous than the 1954 CIA-financed animation.

In this version, the animals leave Napoleon’s dystopia which eventually collapses of its own accord (get the symbolism?). In time, a new human family comes to take over, promising that the mistakes of the past won’t be repeated. In a final voice-over narration, Jessie the sheepdog gasps “And now at last, we shall be free!”

How wonderful. Given that, in the real-world, the restoration of capitalism in the former Soviet Union after 1991 had led to the biggest decline in life expectancy, outside of war or famine, in human history, that final line should be seen, in retrospect, as somewhat ironic.

In truth, Animal Farm was a subversive book that satisfied virtually no-one. It was, predictably, banned in the Soviet Union. But ostensibly supportive Ukrainian and Russian translations in the late 1940s also saw fit to delete certain offending passages. There then came the travesty of the CIA-approved version of 1954, to be followed 45 years later by an even more inept interpretation.

And despite the weary, fatalistic assertion that Animal Farm is a parable of the inevitable fate of all revolutions – “humans are not equal and you can’t force them to be” – the book retains its pep 80 years after its publication precisely because it is not inherently pessimistic – the novella ends with the animals finally realising what is going on.

Orwell was a democratic socialist (and a real one, he thought Attlee and co. were sell outs) lambasting communist totalitarianism for becoming no better, probably even worse, than capitalism. HG Wells called him a “Trotskyist with big feet”. If Animal Farm was really a conservative critique of revolution as such, its author would hardly have bothered to fight for a real revolution in Spain, nearly being killed in the process. Why fight for something that would inevitably be perverted anyway?

In point of fact, Orwell did criticise precisely the fatalistic, conservative attitude that Animal Farm supposedly embodies. In 1946 (a year after the publication of Animal Farm), he wrote an essay admonishing the shallowness of ex-Communist Arthur Koestler, a man who had precisely concluded that because the Russian Revolution had ended in oppression and murder, “This is what revolutions lead to”. Orwell’s response was:

Perhaps some degree of suffering is ineradicable from human life, perhaps the choice before man is always a choice of evils, perhaps even the aim of Socialism not to make the world perfect but to make it better. All revolutions are failures, but they are not all the same failure.

The “unwillingness to admit this”, in Orwell’s words, had led all adaptations of Animal Farm to be travesties of the original book. Perhaps because Serkis’s version gets Orwell so wrong, it can turn out to be more right than any of its inglorious predecessors.

 

*Orwell’s endings, even of his ostensibly non-political novels, always seem to confound the adapters of his works. The end of the 1997 film version of Keep the Aspidistra Flying, for instance, is a joyous celebration of the belated maturity achieved by its ‘hero’, Gordon Comstock. But in the 1936 novel, the final act – putting an aspidistra in the window – is portrayed as a resigned succumbing to middle class respectability, after years of impotent defiance. Again a “wholesale inversion” of Orwell’s meaning.

** This makes no sense from the point of view of the book – or indeed the film. Both show Napoleon’s Animal Farm dedicated to trading with the surrounding human-run farms, so where exactly do these “pig delegates” come from? Their presence might ring more true if Snowball (Trotsky) had won the battle for control with Napoleon (Stalin) because he was dedicated, unlike Napoleon, to “stirring up rebellion” on neighbouring farms. But early on in the book, Snowball is chased out of Animal Farm by Napoleon’s dogs, never to return.