A Clockwork Orange

The ominous atmosphere that concluded the previous chapters comes to fruition by the end of Part 1. Alex’s hubris—his sense that he is special, a natural-born leader, and a wily operator—will ultimately lead to his downfall. It is a biblical progression; as the adage says, pride goes before the fall. Still, it is notable that Alex never expresses remorse, only self-pity and a constant stream of opprobrium directed at everyone else, especially his fellow droogs. Nothing is his fault, Alex insists; his sense of self is marred by narcissism.

As in the previous three chapters, Alex’s disdain for authority, in whatever form, is pronounced. He is disrespectful toward his parents and has no patience for the condescending tone of his Post-Corrective Officer, who continuously calls him “little Alex” (43-46). Though Alex’s disrespectful behavior is inappropriate and his criminal behavior is undeniably disturbing, the author displays some sympathy for the generational divide that separates Alex from the authority figures in his life. His parents are hapless, with no idea how to communicate with their son, and they seem to have instilled virtually no values in him. Alex’s love of music and his fastidious manners seem to be sui generis. In addition, his caseworker shows him nothing but contempt, culminating in the shocking act of spitting in his face. As the police brutally beat him, Alex cries out, “if all you bastards are on the side of the Good then I’m glad I belong to the other shop” (81). It is difficult to empathize with Alex, though the author makes it clear that Alex is, at least on occasion, a figure worthy of the reader’s consideration. Alex belongs within the long tradition of antiheroes; from Satan in Paradise Lost to Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye or Bigger Thomas in Native Son, the antihero’s typical amorality and lack of control (as well as self-control) describe “little Alex” well.

There is also the suggestion within this section that Alex’s impulses may not necessarily be entirely his own. When he sits down to breakfast after Deltoid leaves the apartment, he reads the newspaper: “The gazetta was the usual about ultra-violence and bank robberies and strikes and footballers making everybody paralytic with fright by threatening not to play next Saturday if they did not get higher wages” (47). There are also advertisements for “bigger stereo TV screens and offers of free packets of soapflakes in exchange for the labels on soup-tins” (47). It appears as if the noise of consumer capitalism, coupled with the decay of post-war modern society (evident in violence and theft), engenders exactly the kind of behavior that Alex displays. Consumer capitalism fuels the modern malaise and underlying discontent that leads to Alex’s violent impulses. He is mimicking what he sees in the newspapers and on TV. He does exactly what he likes—he thinks, “what I do I do because I like to do” (47)—in both senses of the phrase: He commits violent acts without oversight or self-control and because he “likes” and enjoys, committing such acts. This is explored more in Themes, particularly Free Will as Essential for Humanity.

In addition, Alex’s misjudgments and missteps throughout this section speak to a kind of guilelessness that belies his youth. Part 1 ends after he learns that he has committed manslaughter, and he admits that he is just 15 years old. His insistence that he take on the mantle of gang leader—directing all of their unlawful activities, lashing out when he is insulted, and engaging in physical altercations to assert dominance—leads to unintended consequences. Alex is so self-absorbed, in typical teenage fashion, that he cannot read the room. He is oblivious when he offends his droogs, and he is just arrogant enough to believe he is teaching them a lesson or putting them in their place: “So they knew now who was master and leader, sheep, thought I” (63). Not coincidentally, this is also how he frames his sexual assault on the two preteen girls he picks up in the record shop: “Well, if they would not go to school they must still have their education. And education they had had” (53-54). Later, during the ill-fated break-in at the Manse, Alex conceitedly decides to commit the robbery on his “oddy knocky,” on his own: “I would show these fickle and worthless droogs of mine that I was worth the whole three of them and more [. . .] They must learn all about leadership” (69). Alex is the self-appointed arbiter of manners, leader of men, and educator of young women until the authority that he scorns catches up with him, largely due to his own inflated sense of self-importance.

There is also the matter of betrayal explored here: Alex suffers the consequences of his actions against his companions, and Dim has his revenge. Alex’s impulsivity stands in stark contrast to Dim’s patience. Dim has been biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to strike back, which leads one to rethink the appropriateness of his nickname. Dim might not be so dim, after all. As he says to Alex after he whips him in the eyes with his chain, “I don’t like you should do what you done, old droogy. Not right it wasn’t to get on to me like the way you done, brat” (73). If there is honor among thieves, as Alex himself suggested in the first chapter by echoing the Three Musketeers, then Alex has broken that code. His comeuppance is upon him.