Greed and Religion in Shaw
Riley Moore
George Bernard Shaw’s plays John Bull’s Other Island and Major Barbara are
deeply concerned with greed, along with the political and religious implications of
the source of money. The connection between Undershaft and Broadbent, who
would be broadly defined as antagonists in their respective plays, is their status as
opportunists. Given these works’ publication’s chronological proximity to the First
World War, it’s interesting to think of these works as a premonition of the coming
impact of opportunists in the world. However, the focus of the moral conundrums
in the play is not these characters but rather the people who accept money from
these profiteers. In both plays, there isn’t a question of the immorality of the actions
of people who exploit others, but rather the implications of those who accept money
from them. This, when coupled with the religious imagery present in both passages
used from these plays, creates an interesting commentary on the religious
implications of being complicit in the exploitation of others. Whatever Shaw may
have intended with regard to these concerns, the textual evidence within the
passages below suggest contradictory attitudes regarding whether or not to accept
monetary support from an exploitative source.
When one explores the moral implications of Broadbent’s scheme in John
Bull’s Other Island, one must consider it within the context of its time. Irish
nationalism was being expressed more clearly and powerfully than ever before in
literature and Shaw, despite his background as an Irishman, had yet to write about
his home country. This play became his statement regarding Irish nationalism, with
Father Keegan delivering an impassioned speech regarding Ireland’s exploitation by
England and, on an individual level, Broadbent. The passage below, from act IV,
Page 96 through 97 in the Penn State University Online PDF, is a part of the
revelation of Broadbent’s sinister plans, in which Father Keegan admonishes him:
BROADBENT. But, hang it all, the idlers will bring money from England to Ireland!
KEEGAN. Just as our idlers have for so many generations taken money from Ireland to England.
Has that saved England from poverty and degradation more horrible than we have ever dreamed
of? When I went to England, sir, I hated England. Now I pity it. [Broadbent can hardly conceive
an Irishman pitying England; but as Larry intervenes angrily, he gives it up and takes to the bill
and his cigar again]
LARRY. Much good your pity will do it!
KEEGAN. In the accounts kept in heaven, Mr Doyle, a heart purified of hatred may be worth
more even than a Land Development Syndicate of Anglicized Irishmen and Gladstonized
Englishmen.
LARRY. Oh, in heaven, no doubt! I have never been there. Can you tell me where it is?
KEEGAN. Could you have told me this morning where hell is? Yet you know now that it is here.
Do not despair of finding heaven: it may be no farther off.
LARRY [ironically]. On this holy ground, as you call it, eh?
KEEGAN [with fierce intensity]. Yes, perhaps, even on this holy ground which such Irishmen as
you have turned into a Land of Derision.
BROADBENT [coming between them]. Take care! you will be quarrelling presently. Oh, you
Irishmen, you Irishmen! Toujours Ballyhooly, eh? [Larry, with a shrug, half comic, half impatient,
turn away up the hill, but presently strolls back on Keegan's right. Broadbent adds, confidentially
to Keegan] Stick to the Englishman, Mr Keegan: he has a bad name here; but at least he can
forgive you for being an Irishman.
KEEGAN. Sir: when you speak to me of English and Irish you forget that I am a Catholic. My
country is not Ireland nor England, but the whole mighty realm of my Church. For me there are
but two countries: heaven and hell; but two conditions of men: salvation and damnation. Standing
here between you the Englishman, so clever in your foolishness, and this Irishman, so foolish in
his cleverness, I cannot in my ignorance be sure which of you is the more deeply damned; but I
should be unfaithful to my calling if I opened the gates of my heart less widely to one than to the
other.
Keegan responds to the claim that “Idlers will bring money from England to
Ireland” with a retort that it is “just as our idlers have for so many generations taken
money from Ireland to England” (John Bull’s Other Island, 96). This passage explores
the nuances of one nation exploiting another; it is not possible for England to fully
exploit the Irish without the assistance of collaborators who Keegan refers to as “our
idlers” (96). One could also interpret this line as an indictment of Irish expatriates in
England, of which Doyle is one, who are wealthy enough integrate into an idle English
society. Later in the passage Keegan derides Doyle as an Irishman who has turned
Ireland from “holy land” to a “land of derision,” effectively equating him with these idle
Irish collaborators (96). Larry Doyle is an Irishman who has rejected his background in
order to assimilate in English Protestant society. This puts him in opposition to Father
Keegan, who is defiantly Irish and Catholic, as evinced in the above passage.
Keegan then elaborates, “Has that saved England from poverty and degradation
more horrible than we have ever dreamed of? When I went to England, sir, I hated
England. Now I pity it” (97). Just as the exploitation of colonialism is toxic to the
colonized, the colonizer is also negatively affected. Keegan, who is of Irish-Catholic
origin and saw through Broadbent before other characters were aware of his intent,
initially felt England’s exploitation of Ireland created only the literal, monetary poverty
experienced by the Irish. However, as he spent more time in England, he realized the
cost of affluence in England was a moral poverty. He even goes so far as to suggest that
both Broadbent and Doyle are “damned,” with yet another use of a binary of “two
conditions of men: salvation and damnation” (97). While religious imagery in the passage
is not directly used for the purpose of being a theological debate on greed, its
juxtaposition with a discussion on greed warrants exploring the possible connections
between the two.
Major Barbara is a play more obviously concerned with questions of the
overlapping between greed and religion than John Bull’s Other Island. Despite its being
more in the foreground in Major Barbara, the play still rewards close attention. The
Passage below, from Act III, Page 89 through 90 in the Penn State University Online
PDF, is a prime example of the explicit dialogues regarding the religious and moral
implications of accepting money from exploitation:
CUSINS. I think all power is spiritual: these cannons will not go off by themselves. I have tried
to make spiritual power by teaching Greek. But the world can never be really touched by a dead
language and a dead civilization. The people must have power; and the people cannot have
Greek. Now the power that is made here can be wielded by all men.
BARBARA. Power to burn women's houses down and kill their sons and tear their husbands to
pieces.
CUSINS. You cannot have power for good without having power for evil too. Even mother's
milk nourishes murderers as well as heroes. This power which only tears men's bodies to pieces
has never been so horribly abused as the intellectual power, the imaginative power, the poetic,
religious power that can enslave men's souls. As a teacher of Greek I gave the intellectual man
weapons against the common man. I now want to give the common man weapons against the
intellectual man. I love the common people. I want to arm them against the lawyer, the doctor,
the priest, the literary man, the professor, the artist, and the politician, who, once in authority,
are the most dangerous, disastrous, and tyrannical of all the fools, rascals, and impostors. I want
a democratic power strong enough to force the intellectual oligarchy to use its genius for the
general good or else perish.
BARBARA. Is there no higher power than that [pointing to the shell]?
CUSINS. Yes: but that power can destroy the higher powers just as a tiger can destroy a man:
therefore man must master that power first. I admitted this when the Turks and Greeks were last at
war. My best pupil went out to fight for Hellas. My parting gift to him was not a copy of Plato's
Republic, but a revolver and a hundred Undershaft cartridges. The blood of every Turk he shot--if
he shot any--is on my head as well as on Undershaft's. That act committed me to this place for
ever. Your father's challenge has beaten me. Dare I make war on war? I dare. I must. I will. And
now, is it all over between us?
Before one analyses the passage itself, it is important to consider the textual
evidence that Cusins’ argument is the one the author pushes the reader to support.
Cusins’ argument is the favored one, given its being more elaborated upon than
Barbara’s as well as Barbara’s reversion to a child-like state in the face of his
argument. It is also noteworthy that, by the end of the play, Barbara is alone in her
opposition to receiving money from her father.
When moving on to analyzing the wording of the passage, one of the first
noteworthy aspects of this passage is the use of “power” to describe the goals of the
Salvation Army and the impact of the money received. Cusins describes all power as
being “spiritual,” while Barbara claims that the power acquired from this money is
unspiritual immediately before the above passage. However, within Cusins’ view of
all power being spiritual, he claims to have “tried to make spiritual power by
teaching Greek. But the world can never be really touched by a dead language and a
dead civilization. The people must have power; and the people cannot have Greek.
Now the power that is made here can be wielded by all men” (Major Barbara, 89).
Cusins’ is essentially arguing that power can no longer be brought to the poor
through outdated means of education, but rather through more modern means of
obtaining monetary power, such as war. Cusins is framed in this passage as being
more in touch with the brutality of the modern world and the necessary action
required to adapt to it, while Barbara is attempting to use outdated moral standards
to argue against receiving money from her war profiteer father. The theme of
teaching Greek is returned to when he claims teaching Greek “gave the intellectual
man weapons against the common man. I now want to give the common man
weapons against the intellectual man. I love the common people… I want a
democratic power strong enough to force the intellectual oligarchy to use its genius
for the general good or else perish” (89). Cusins is arguing these classical means of
“culturing” people are merely a means of oppressing the uneducated, and he no
longer wants to be complicit in this, even if it means being complicit in the deaths of
people by firearms from which he is benefiting.
Cusins expresses indifference to the root of the money through the metaphor
of “mother’s milk” as nurturing both evil and good people. This metaphor is at the
core of his argument and the argument of the text as a whole regarding Barbara’s
moral quandary. Through the metaphor of mother’s milk, he is comparing the
salvation army’s rejection of money because of its source to claiming good and evil
is rooted in the mother’s milk consumed by someone who commits good or evil acts.
Cusins’ final point is noteworthy as well, claiming he will dare to “make war on war”
(90). This effectively sums up the argument that immoral means of achieving a
moral end do not negate the morality of the action, making the use immoral action
justified by its positive outcome.
Both passages share the concern for the moral consequences of accepting
monetary assistance by unjust means. Interestingly, Cusins argues in favor of
accepting money regardless of its source while Keegan makes a case against
accepting a deal which could potentially create a tourist industry in Ireland. It is
worth noting that Cusins is justifying accepting money that exploits others
elsewhere while Keegan is arguing against a plan that would exploit people of his
own background. However, these quotes are still worth comparing due to their
similar concerns regarding the origin of monetary support.
While the general moral implications of the issues explored in the play are
compelling and at least implicitly addressed in the play, another interesting parallel
is the use of religious imagery by both speakers and the religious implications of the
decisions made by the characters. Within the context of the plays themselves, this
makes sense given the Salvation Army being a religious organization and one of
Ireland’s key differences from England being its majority Catholic population.
However, the real significance of the use of religious imagery in both plays is the
question of misuse of money’s impact on the soul. When one compares the religious
attitudes of both works towards the issue, the difference in attitudes towards the
origin of money becomes compelling.
England is a country that Doyle pities, in contrast to Ireland, which he refers
to as “holy ground” (96). This contrast also occurs in close proximity to his claim
that there are “two conditions of man: salvation and damnation,” with Doyle and
Broadbent being among the damned (97). This use of binary opposition in a
discussion about Anglo-Irish relations gives one fair cause to infer that the positive
and negative nature of each nation is caused by their relation to each other; just as
good is defined in opposition to evil, Ireland’s culture is defined by its differences
from English culture. Once one has reached this conclusion, then one can infer that
Doyle’s pity for England is its lack of holiness due to its exploitation of Irish
Catholics. England’s exploitation of Ireland causes a corrosion of the collective soul
of England. The evil of this exploitation of Ireland as a whole is not distinguished
from the individual case of Broadbent’s plan – Keegan condemns both, regardless of
the possibility of English Idlers bringing money. In a broad sense, the individual
example of increased Irish tourism is not acceptable due to its attachment to a
broader exploitation of Ireland, a holy land, by England, a land to be pitied.
Major Barbara, however, argues the exploitation of the victims of violence
from which Undershaft profits is not irreligious when the money from this
exploitation is used nobly. In Barbara and Cusins’ discussion regarding power, the
question of spiritual power becomes important when exploring the religious
attitudes expressed by the play. This is most clearly illustrated when Barbara asks
“is there no greater power than that [pointing to the shell]?” to which Cusins replies
“Yes: but that power can destroy the higher powers just as a tiger can destroy a
man: therefore man must master that power first” (90). Cusins and Barbara have
implicitly agreed “that power,” implied to be God, is the most powerful possible.
However, Barbara disagrees with Cusins, feeling that religious principles are a
power from which the Salvation Army cannot deviate. Cusins, however, implicitly
argues that his empowering of the common man through embracing the monetary
possibilities of war profiteering is justified in its keeping with the charitable
ambitions of the Salvation Army, despite deviating from other pacifist religious
inclinations.
When comparing John Bull’s Other Island and Major Barbara, the contrast in
implied attitudes regarding their characters’ moral crossroads becomes stark.
George Bernard Shaw at once expresses disgust with a lucrative exploitative tourist
attraction in the former and acceptance of a sizable donation to the Salvation Army
from a war profiteer in the latter. It is unique for an author to publish two plays
implicitly concerning similar issues yet providing textual evidence for an opposing
opinion from one play to the other.