Regeneration Essay
Regeneration by Pat Barker, is an attempt to illustrate the lasting psychological effects the helplessness and terror of no man’s land had on survivors of the First Great War. Rather than focusing on the battlefields of World War I, Barker sets Regeneration in Craiglockhart hospital, a real hospital treating soldiers for war neurosis during the period dramatised in the novel. Regeneration revolves around Capt. Siegfried Sassoon’s (Dec.) protest of the war (an historic event), and Dr. W.H.R. Rivers’ (Capt. Dec.) diagnosis that he does not “even think [Sassoon’s] got war neurosis.” Barker’s dramatisation of the relationship between Rivers and Sassoon attempts to demonstrate the meaninglessness of war while ostensibly forcing Rivers to face the real horrors endured by his patients (Barker 15).
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However, Regeneration only briefly examines Rivers’ fear that he may be harming, rather than helping, his patients; and it is the only during the torture (disguised as treatment) of Callan that Barker dramatizes the prevailing ‘treatment’ performed on those deemed “indifferent to [their own] condition” and told “‘you must speak, but I shall not listen to anything you have to say.’” (Barker 227, 231; emphasis in original).
The interplay between the characters portrayed in Regeneration illustrates the complex relationships between doctor and patient, officer and enlisted, and father and son. And, while Barker expertly stages these complex relationships against the horrifying backdrop of the First Great War, she fails to explore the dominant political, medical, and social attitudes surrounding war neurosis during this period. In this paper, I will demonstrate that Pat Barker’s Regeneration is a failed attempt to portray the psychological effects WWI had on soldiers and misrepresents the inhumane treatments inflicted upon those suffering from war neurosis during the period the author purports to
dramatise. Furthermore, Barker’s failure to accurately represent the conditions and procedures faced by those suffering from war neurosis, shell-shock, and what is now called post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), reinforces invalid assumptions and causes further harm to soldiers with these illnesses—both today and in the past.
What do I mean by ‘the real horrors’ mentioned above, and to what conditions and procedures were those suffering from war neurosis subjected? To answer these questions, per Cathryn Corns “there were over 8000 Courts Martial for capital offences during the Great War, resulting in 3080 death sentences, of which 351 were carried out,” and charges of cowardice led to the execution of at least 18 men (Corns 53–54). With a total of 3080 officers and enlisted sentenced to death compared to the 700,000 (approximate) British casualties of WWI, the ratio of reported Courts Martial death sentences to combat deaths is 1/200 (Baker). Furthermore, Corns is careful to note that “the information we have today is highly selective” and “there were occasions when proper procedures were not followed,” indicating inaccuracies in the official number of Courts Martial. As an added complication, no clear distinction between desertion and cowardice existed at the time; in the case of 2Lt. Eric Poole (Dec.), who “in the early days of the Somme… was knocked unconscious by a shell and evacuated to a base hospital suffering from shell-shock. [When] his unit was ordered to the front line; Poole stated he was unwell and saw the doctor of a neighbouring battalion, but then disappeared for two days.” Upon his return, Poole faced a Courts Martial and, regardless of his commander’s recommendation to send Poole home, “the Courts Martial went ahead, Poole was found guilty of desertion,” and subsequently executed. Poole’s execution, “despite evidence describing him as confused,” indicates the lack of distinction between desertion, cowardice (a crime covering many offences with no exact definition ), and mental illness (Corns 54). Furthermore, 2Lt. Poole’s execution for desertion when he was, by his admission, experiencing symptoms of shell-shock is not an isolated example; soldiers who had PTSD were regularly charged with the crimes of cowardice and desertion, and sentenced to death. To illustrate this, per Ted Bogacz: “there was widespread fear after the armistice that among the 3000 soldiers convicted… [of] cowardice, desertion or other crimes… there [was] a considerable number who had been suffering from [war neurosis]… and had been unjustly sentenced” (Bogacz 228). Barker’s total avoidance of issues surrounding improper Courts Martial (other than her portrayal of Sassoon’s Courts Martial), undocumented battlefield executions, and how these Courts Martial and executions were a common, if not the prevailing, form of ‘treatment’ administered for war neurosis, undermines the entire narrative of Regeneration.
In the 15 April 1992 edition of The New York Times, Herbert Mitgang writes: “we [as readers] are aware that [Barker] is inventing dialogue for her characters, but it is an informed invention” (Mitgang). Does Mitgang’s review of Barker’s ‘informed invention’ capture the story of the “man [who] was shot ‘to encourage the [other men]?’” How about the dreadful fact that, after receiving a guilty verdict for cowardice, a “guilty man frequently had to attend parade with his battalion, at which his sentence was read out and [afterwards] he was often shot by men of his own unit?” (Corns 55). When Mitgang remarks “rather than give Sassoon a Courts Martial… the army declared him temporarily insane and sent him to Craiglockhart,” does his anecdotal connection between a Courts Martial and a personal favour include the story of Lt. Edwin Dyett (Dec.)? (Mitgang; emphasis added). Lt. Dyett’s “chief crime was [getting] lost in fog” and despite the court’s recommendation of mercy on the grounds of his age (21) and that the fog was “likely to have [had] a detrimental effect,” Lt. Dyett was convicted of desertion and “shot on 5 January 1917” (Corns 54; emphasis added). Does Mitgang’s review consider the abject terror Lt. Dyett felt as his friends and allies tied him to a post, forcibly wrapped a filthy rag over his eyes, and he waited in terror until the men of his own unit were ordered to shoot him in the heart? No, it seems both Mitgang and Barker are unaware of the fact that those lucky few who made it to Craiglockhart are not even remotely representative of the torture, death (sometimes at the hands of their friends), rejection, and marginalisation inflicted upon those suffering from war neurosis. Mitgang’s question “can there be compromise between conscience and military responsibility?” ignores Barker’s avoidance of the real conditions imposed upon those displaying symptoms of war neurosis during WWI. Instead, Mitgang’s review assumes that Regeneration represents actual events and “extends the boundaries of antiwar fiction,” without acknowledging Barker’s avoidance of the issue she purports to describe (Mitgang). Mitgang’s review serves to reinforce false perceptions of war neurosis, shell-shock, and PTSD prevalent during WWI and strengthens the falsity that a broken soldier is weak, and thus a broken soldier is undeserving of our help.
On the few occasions in Regeneration when Rivers is brought face to face with the horrors of the battlefield, both overseas and on the homefront, Barker treats these moments as emotionally charged, but impersonal vignettes. Rivers’ reaction to Yealland’s “methods of treatment” and the disturbing revelation these “treatments” include the application of “very strong electric currents… to [Callan’s] neck and throat [as well as] hot plates… applied repeatedly to the back of [his] throat, and lighted cigarettes to [his] tongue,” solicits no reaction from Rivers (Barker 227). Instead, Rivers sits and silently observes as “Callan [smiles] and the key electrode [is] applied to the side of his mouth.” At the end of a disturbing scene, after Yealland had pronounced Callan cured, and everyone is leaving the “treatment” room, and it is clear that Yealland is torturing a man for the heinous crime of having a smile he finds “most objectionable.” During this outrageous display of cruelty, Rivers sits and silently watches Callan’s torture without offering a single word of objection (Barker 233). By this scene’s end, Barker has transformed Callan’s misery into his remedy, and Yealland’s horrific behaviour into benevolence; in explicit, non-metaphorical terms, this scene says: ‘sure, Callan was tortured, but when the treatment had run its course, he could talk. Therefore, the treatment worked.’ The moment Barker demonstrated Callan’s illness as the product of weakness and not a result of his war experiences, Yealland’s actions became altruistic. Consequently, I can no longer find any actual suffering in Prior’s muteness, Willard’s psychosomatic paralysis, or Rivers’ realisation that “the change he demanded of [his patients] was not trivial.” All these incidences of actual suffering become suspect due to the portrayal of Callan’s muteness as a weakness rather than an illness (Barker 48). Then, without even a moment spared to reflect on Callan’s torture, the novel takes us directly to Sassoon’s shocking return to his pre-Craiglockhart sentiments about the war, and the book’s concluding words: “discharged to duty” (Barker 249). Sassoon, the real man, is returned to his rightful place in the “sausage factory” of war, needing only a brief stop in Garrington to “explain [himself] to the pacifists” on his triumphant return to the field of glory (Barker 247). Sassoon’s courage leaves no room for a Callan’s cowardice, real or otherwise. Not all early reviews of Regeneration were positive, in New Statesman & Society Harriett Gilbert writes: “between them, [Sassoon and Rivers] try to tease out the meanings of courage, duty, and masculinity… [but the] problem is that none of [these explorations] are pushed to [their] imaginative limits.” Adding, “no matter how theoretically disturbing, in practice the book remains resolutely nice: as though in her pity for the damaged young men, Barker has decided to return them to the safety… to a land where their worst nightmares can be soothed by a matron’s protective hand” (Gilbert 37; emphasis added).
However, Regeneration only briefly examines Rivers’ fear that he may be harming, rather than helping, his patients; and it is the only during the torture (disguised as treatment) of Callan that Barker dramatizes the prevailing ‘treatment’ performed on those deemed “indifferent to [their own] condition” and told “‘you must speak, but I shall not listen to anything you have to say.’” (Barker 227, 231; emphasis in original).
The interplay between the characters portrayed in Regeneration illustrates the complex relationships between doctor and patient, officer and enlisted, and father and son. And, while Barker expertly stages these complex relationships against the horrifying backdrop of the First Great War, she fails to explore the dominant political, medical, and social attitudes surrounding war neurosis during this period. In this paper, I will demonstrate that Pat Barker’s Regeneration is a failed attempt to portray the psychological effects WWI had on soldiers and misrepresents the inhumane treatments inflicted upon those suffering from war neurosis during the period the author purports to
dramatise. Furthermore, Barker’s failure to accurately represent the conditions and procedures faced by those suffering from war neurosis, shell-shock, and what is now called post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), reinforces invalid assumptions and causes further harm to soldiers with these illnesses—both today and in the past.
What do I mean by ‘the real horrors’ mentioned above, and to what conditions and procedures were those suffering from war neurosis subjected? To answer these questions, per Cathryn Corns “there were over 8000 Courts Martial for capital offences during the Great War, resulting in 3080 death sentences, of which 351 were carried out,” and charges of cowardice led to the execution of at least 18 men (Corns 53–54). With a total of 3080 officers and enlisted sentenced to death compared to the 700,000 (approximate) British casualties of WWI, the ratio of reported Courts Martial death sentences to combat deaths is 1/200 (Baker). Furthermore, Corns is careful to note that “the information we have today is highly selective” and “there were occasions when proper procedures were not followed,” indicating inaccuracies in the official number of Courts Martial. As an added complication, no clear distinction between desertion and cowardice existed at the time; in the case of 2Lt. Eric Poole (Dec.), who “in the early days of the Somme… was knocked unconscious by a shell and evacuated to a base hospital suffering from shell-shock. [When] his unit was ordered to the front line; Poole stated he was unwell and saw the doctor of a neighbouring battalion, but then disappeared for two days.” Upon his return, Poole faced a Courts Martial and, regardless of his commander’s recommendation to send Poole home, “the Courts Martial went ahead, Poole was found guilty of desertion,” and subsequently executed. Poole’s execution, “despite evidence describing him as confused,” indicates the lack of distinction between desertion, cowardice (a crime covering many offences with no exact definition ), and mental illness (Corns 54). Furthermore, 2Lt. Poole’s execution for desertion when he was, by his admission, experiencing symptoms of shell-shock is not an isolated example; soldiers who had PTSD were regularly charged with the crimes of cowardice and desertion, and sentenced to death. To illustrate this, per Ted Bogacz: “there was widespread fear after the armistice that among the 3000 soldiers convicted… [of] cowardice, desertion or other crimes… there [was] a considerable number who had been suffering from [war neurosis]… and had been unjustly sentenced” (Bogacz 228). Barker’s total avoidance of issues surrounding improper Courts Martial (other than her portrayal of Sassoon’s Courts Martial), undocumented battlefield executions, and how these Courts Martial and executions were a common, if not the prevailing, form of ‘treatment’ administered for war neurosis, undermines the entire narrative of Regeneration.
In the 15 April 1992 edition of The New York Times, Herbert Mitgang writes: “we [as readers] are aware that [Barker] is inventing dialogue for her characters, but it is an informed invention” (Mitgang). Does Mitgang’s review of Barker’s ‘informed invention’ capture the story of the “man [who] was shot ‘to encourage the [other men]?’” How about the dreadful fact that, after receiving a guilty verdict for cowardice, a “guilty man frequently had to attend parade with his battalion, at which his sentence was read out and [afterwards] he was often shot by men of his own unit?” (Corns 55). When Mitgang remarks “rather than give Sassoon a Courts Martial… the army declared him temporarily insane and sent him to Craiglockhart,” does his anecdotal connection between a Courts Martial and a personal favour include the story of Lt. Edwin Dyett (Dec.)? (Mitgang; emphasis added). Lt. Dyett’s “chief crime was [getting] lost in fog” and despite the court’s recommendation of mercy on the grounds of his age (21) and that the fog was “likely to have [had] a detrimental effect,” Lt. Dyett was convicted of desertion and “shot on 5 January 1917” (Corns 54; emphasis added). Does Mitgang’s review consider the abject terror Lt. Dyett felt as his friends and allies tied him to a post, forcibly wrapped a filthy rag over his eyes, and he waited in terror until the men of his own unit were ordered to shoot him in the heart? No, it seems both Mitgang and Barker are unaware of the fact that those lucky few who made it to Craiglockhart are not even remotely representative of the torture, death (sometimes at the hands of their friends), rejection, and marginalisation inflicted upon those suffering from war neurosis. Mitgang’s question “can there be compromise between conscience and military responsibility?” ignores Barker’s avoidance of the real conditions imposed upon those displaying symptoms of war neurosis during WWI. Instead, Mitgang’s review assumes that Regeneration represents actual events and “extends the boundaries of antiwar fiction,” without acknowledging Barker’s avoidance of the issue she purports to describe (Mitgang). Mitgang’s review serves to reinforce false perceptions of war neurosis, shell-shock, and PTSD prevalent during WWI and strengthens the falsity that a broken soldier is weak, and thus a broken soldier is undeserving of our help.
On the few occasions in Regeneration when Rivers is brought face to face with the horrors of the battlefield, both overseas and on the homefront, Barker treats these moments as emotionally charged, but impersonal vignettes. Rivers’ reaction to Yealland’s “methods of treatment” and the disturbing revelation these “treatments” include the application of “very strong electric currents… to [Callan’s] neck and throat [as well as] hot plates… applied repeatedly to the back of [his] throat, and lighted cigarettes to [his] tongue,” solicits no reaction from Rivers (Barker 227). Instead, Rivers sits and silently observes as “Callan [smiles] and the key electrode [is] applied to the side of his mouth.” At the end of a disturbing scene, after Yealland had pronounced Callan cured, and everyone is leaving the “treatment” room, and it is clear that Yealland is torturing a man for the heinous crime of having a smile he finds “most objectionable.” During this outrageous display of cruelty, Rivers sits and silently watches Callan’s torture without offering a single word of objection (Barker 233). By this scene’s end, Barker has transformed Callan’s misery into his remedy, and Yealland’s horrific behaviour into benevolence; in explicit, non-metaphorical terms, this scene says: ‘sure, Callan was tortured, but when the treatment had run its course, he could talk. Therefore, the treatment worked.’ The moment Barker demonstrated Callan’s illness as the product of weakness and not a result of his war experiences, Yealland’s actions became altruistic. Consequently, I can no longer find any actual suffering in Prior’s muteness, Willard’s psychosomatic paralysis, or Rivers’ realisation that “the change he demanded of [his patients] was not trivial.” All these incidences of actual suffering become suspect due to the portrayal of Callan’s muteness as a weakness rather than an illness (Barker 48). Then, without even a moment spared to reflect on Callan’s torture, the novel takes us directly to Sassoon’s shocking return to his pre-Craiglockhart sentiments about the war, and the book’s concluding words: “discharged to duty” (Barker 249). Sassoon, the real man, is returned to his rightful place in the “sausage factory” of war, needing only a brief stop in Garrington to “explain [himself] to the pacifists” on his triumphant return to the field of glory (Barker 247). Sassoon’s courage leaves no room for a Callan’s cowardice, real or otherwise. Not all early reviews of Regeneration were positive, in New Statesman & Society Harriett Gilbert writes: “between them, [Sassoon and Rivers] try to tease out the meanings of courage, duty, and masculinity… [but the] problem is that none of [these explorations] are pushed to [their] imaginative limits.” Adding, “no matter how theoretically disturbing, in practice the book remains resolutely nice: as though in her pity for the damaged young men, Barker has decided to return them to the safety… to a land where their worst nightmares can be soothed by a matron’s protective hand” (Gilbert 37; emphasis added).