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July 16, 2008

Wednesday Poem

//

The Unknown Citizen
W.H. Auden

(To JS/07/M/378 This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State)
.......................................................................

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be

One against whom there was no official complaint,

And all the reports on his conduct agree

That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,

For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.

Except for the War till the day he retired

He worked in a factory and never got fired,

But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.

Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,

For his Union reports that he paid his dues,

(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)

And our Social Psychology workers found

That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.

The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day

And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.

Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,

And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.

Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare

He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan

And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,

A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.

Our researchers into Public Opinion are content

That he held the proper opinions for he time of year;

When there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went.

He was married and added five children to the population,

Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.

And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.

Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:

Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

//

Posted by Jim Culleny at 07:07 AM | Permalink

Comments

I think that I would have once read this poem and felt pity on the subject. And I would have imagined that there but for the grace of my freedom go I. But today, or this morning, for some reason, I feel more pity for the author, and I am more inclined to wonder to what degree he was chafing at all the richness of ordinary life that he felt was denied him because of his freedom from social norms. Certainly the implication (which, in fairness, may have been only inference on my part) that these descriptions describe the limits of the man rather than his starting points is something now jarringly false to me. I suppose, of course, that Auden could have intended this ambiguity, but I'd have to be sold on the idea.

Posted by: Carlos | Jul 16, 2008 7:31:38 AM

The unknown citizen of Auden, the Mr. Jones of Dylan.

"Was he free? Was he happy?" are questions that may not be absurd after all?

Posted by: Jim | Jul 16, 2008 8:25:22 AM

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