What Makes us Human: Human-Animal Interaction in Gulliver’s Travels and Elsewhere

One well-known theme in Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, first published three hundred years ago this year, is the relation or relations between human beings and “beasts,” or non-human animals. In the fourth voyage Swift seems to reverse the roles of humans and beasts. The dominant or ruling class consists of Houyhnhnms or rational horses; they take a “live and let live” approach to most other species, but they cruelly dominate the Yahoos, who are more or less human beings as we know them—yes, Swift gave the word “Yahoo” to the English language. The Yahoos are inarticulate, and reason only for short-term benefits including food; the Houyhnhnms are altogether superior—their souls are in order, they almost automatically put the community first, they reason about the past and the future, and deliberate calmly about matters of public policy. One of Swift’s jokes is that the rational horses are fully justified in treating human beings as badly as horses are often treated in the England of his time—in fact the Yahoos are worse in various ways than “real” horses, perhaps more deserving of neglect and abuse. The Yahoos are sometimes enslaved, tied up if they work close to the horses; sometimes they are forced from place to place at the convenience of the superior species. In old aristocratic societies, the status of the upper classes was constantly reinforced by the use of horses—being able to afford them, make them work, ride them and otherwise be carried or conveyed by horses. In the fourth voyage horses themselves are the aristocratic rulers, and they dominate human beings who have neither agriculture nor the use of beasts of burden, and are completely lacking in aristocratic qualities. Even the rational horses have no technology to speak of: Yahoos pull sledges rather than wheeled vehicles, there is no metallurgy, houses are made from trees blasted by storms, and it is possible that crops of oats are “found” more than they are cultivated. The rational horses never eat meat, and they may come close to leaving nature exactly as they find it, except for their own cultivated excellence. There is even a question as to why exactly the horses need slaves. Apparently they don’t trust the Yahoos to harvest a crop; the crude tools that are used might be useful as weapons. It probably says something about human beings, as opposed to actual horses, that slavery is attractive to the slave masters in almost any circumstances.

Of course Swift was always more interested in human beings than in animals. The cruelty that humans habitually inflict on animals is of concern to him, but is only a small part of the depravity of which humans are capable. The Yahoos live like wild animals. Unlike the horses they eat meat, but apparently this is likely to be carrion or “rotting flesh”: they don’t kill and eat anything their own size, and they probably often do without meat, digging for herbs and plants. Their eating habits can be described as indiscriminate, and cannibalism cannot be ruled out. One would think, and the horse identified as the Master Houyhnhnm says, that one cannot blame any Yahoo habits, any more than one would blame a bird of prey for killing and eating other animals (IV.5, 230-31). Why then the apparent hatred or rage directed at the Yahoos by the Houyhnhnms? Aesthetically the human animals are disgusting, a blight on an otherwise orderly cosmos; more practically, their complete lack of birth control, and resulting tendency to over-population, may be a constant threat to the horses. Gulliver is so completely won over to the idea that the horses are simply superior, he offers no criticism of their cruelty to the Yahoos; he strives to emulate the horses, and in fact comes to kid himself that he is one of them. This is surely a pathetic example of emulating the oppressor, and being willing to deepen the oppression of one’s own kind. In the modern world, where we take pride in democracy and the successes of the “common man,” we are unlikely to agree with Gulliver that the horses are right to do what they are doing. Swift uses Gulliver as his eyes and ears, so to speak, but he does not always agree with him. It may be possible to gain a new appreciation of who the wild Yahoos are, and how they came to be the way they are. It is obvious that almost any group of humans who rule others, by squinting a bit, might like to see themselves as Houyhnhnms, and the others as Yahoos. This potential realistic link between the world around Swift and his creations would also obviously be only a starting point for wildly imaginative characterization, where everything is exaggerated for comic and pedagogic effect.

The British Establishment of Swift’s time might see themselves as wise horses in comparison to a number of people: the “little” untitled and impoverished people, including Swift himself; the majority Roman Catholic Irish in Ireland; “primitive” peoples being discovered by European explorers. It is easy to read this story as one of the many iterations of Swift’s support for an Irish rebellion against the British Establishment. Yes, the British rulers have generally graduated from good schools, and their habits and behaviour confirm the benefits of that background. But they seem not to consider the possibility that the Irish have the same potential to learn and take care of themselves that the Brits do—indeed by predicting that the Irish will live like beasts, and treating them accordingly, the Brits make this a self-fulfilling prophecy. Insofar as the Yahoos are described to some extent as actual beasts, and sometimes as (in old-fashioned language) primitive or savage people, one could even say from a progressive perspective that Swift shows some support for the liberation of many conspicuous groups of victims of European speciesism, colonialism and so on. There have been ingenious scholarly articles to suggest both black Africans and Jews as among the inspirations or analogues for the Yahoos (Stepakoff; Stewart). Somehow in the early days of Gulliver’s contacts with Yahoos, there is some confusion as to whether they are apes or ape-like humans—hairy with a stooped posture, evolved or adapted to living in a bestial way, grubbing for herbs, possible hints of cannibalism, and so on. Hateful stereotypes of blacks and Jews include tropes of this kind. Neither blacks nor Jews existed in noticeable numbers in the Britain of Swift’s time, so he would barely have been aware of them. It is fair to say he shows indifference to them, even where they are enslaved or otherwise oppressed, but Swift wants to insist on a kind of honesty to the effect that most of us are indifferent to most people, most of the time. Blacks and Jews were no threat to take over in any way, or even to impose costs on the majority in Britain. In the case of blacks we might say Swift’s criticism of European imperialism on the ground that it was not only cruel to “the others” but bad for the Europeans (IV.12, 274-75), might include the thought that some day there will be a large population of blacks, difficult to assimilate, among a white population.

Another possibility, apparently barely hinted at by any scholar so far, is that Houyhnhnms may be stereotypical males, and Yahoos stereotypical females, both as seen from a self-serving male perspective. One could even wonder whether the 11-year old Yahoo girl who attacks Gulliver, hoping to mate with him, is a good example of a hillbilly or Irish wedding ceremony with a Sadie Hawkins or “shotgun wedding” feel, and/or an anticipation of women’s liberation as we came to know it in the twentieth century (IV.8, 248-49). The girl presumably finds Gulliver more attractive than the “boy next door” in some ways. Instead of being persecuted by the horses, Gulliver enjoys their protection because the Master Houyhnhnm wishes to continue a very personal teacher-student relationship. The girl may think (or sense) any children she has by Gulliver will have a higher status than other Yahoos; in terms of the issues of Swift’s time, some day the Irish may rise to positions of prominence including Prime Minister; and with no real birth control, they may even take over, perhaps the greatest fear of the English/horses. In some passages Swift presumably had in mind not only the “current events” of his time, but some particular readers who would share his concerns, and laugh at his jokes. The over-sexed girl may represent a woman Swift called “Vanessa,” who was substantially younger than him. She was roughly half Irish, and had died by the time of the publication of the Travels. Surviving documents suggest there was some physical intimacy between Swift and “Vanessa.” Meanwhile a somewhat older woman, referred to by Swift as “Stella,” still survived. They met when “Stella” was a girl, and Swift was her tutor. Stella was not Irish; she lived in Ireland for much of her life because she inherited some land there, and wished to be close to Swift. On the whole it seems unlikely that Swift and “Stella” were ever as physically intimate as Swift and “Vanessa” sometimes were. Swift may be reassuring “Stella” that while half-Irish “Vanessa” was very eager, Swift was either too austerely concerned with higher things, or simply too afraid of aristocratic public opinion (the horses were watching), to reciprocate. There may even be a teasing suggestion that “Stella” always loved Swift more than he loved her. As fond as Swift was of “Stella,” it might please Swift to suggest she was inarticulate, unable to learn, ruled by passion and so on—a bit like Henry Higgins talking to Eliza in My Fair Lady. Among friends in a social gathering Swift apparently expected everyone to both give and take this kind of treatment, for laughs.

There are other possible readings here. Swift was not only concerned that the Irish were treated unjustly; he was concerned about himself. Why did he get so little benefit, in terms of property or a position in the world, from serving as secretary to Sir William Temple? Why did Temple not keep his word to get Swift a position that was in the direct gift of the King or Queen? Why indeed did the English tend to treat Swift as Irish/Yahoo, no matter what he accomplished? Obviously he was celebrated for his words and wit, so no one would accuse him of being inarticulate; but was he treated as if nothing he said had any real weight? It may be true, and it may have come to Swift’s attention, that he was the illegitimate half-brother of his employer, which may have made differences in their social and economic standing even more galling. From this point of view, to see the horses taking over is not simply a correction of past injustice, but an example of those who are educated, public-spirited and in every way worthy, “finally” prevailing over relative degenerates who somehow know how to get ahead. Swift may have dreamed of people like himself prevailing over George I and “prime minister” Walpole—there is a brief glimpse at Yahoo elections that “surprisingly” resemble the Britain of Swift’s day (IV.7, 244). In the end, Swift seems to wish us both to admire the Houyhnhnms and to experience genuine sympathy for the Yahoos. The Yahoos have lost the capacity for articulate speech, probably owing to the event called the “great hunting,” in which all but the very young were killed (IV.9, 253). The Houyhnhnms, whether as part of a plan or not, may have eliminated all the Yahoos who possessed articulate speech, so that there was no way for any future generation to learn this capacity. Swift was an advocate of education for more or less everyone. He famously favoured education for girls that was roughly the same as for boys, and we can see this even in the first voyage of the Travels (I.6, 55-56). One criticism of “the Establishment” might be that they are inclined to deny education to “the others,” whoever they might be, and then blame or show contempt for those same “others,” partly on the ground that they are uneducated and show little capacity to learn.

Even if human life raises more questions than bestial life, and such questions are always in a way the most urgent ones, Swift shows some genuine interest in the lives of animals, and their perspective—how things that happen, including things inflicted on them by humans, might be seen by them. Gulliver sees the Yahoos as apelike before he even guesses they might be human—they have apparently devolved, as it were, in their bodies. Swift, who read avidly and kept up with current events, may have seen the dawn of a new awareness of a distinction between monkeys and apes. Even before Darwin, it was hard to avoid the conclusion that in comparison to any other animals, monkeys are somewhat like us, and apes including chimpanzees even more so. What are the possible relationships between human beings and animals? Insofar as animals are wild, some are killed and captured for meat and other uses; predators are killed for our self-protection, and the protection of livestock. Generally speaking, farmed land is protected against “wildness,” including wild plants and insects; it is even defined by such protection. There are domestic farm animals, descended from wild species, with apparently many experiments at domestication having failed. There are pets, with the domestication of dogs going back far beyond historical records. Alice Roberts is among those who have argued that dogs domesticated humans as much as the reverse; dog lovers might say cats have never been truly domesticated. Somewhere at or beyond the limits of “civilization,” there are intimate relationships, going beyond the typical ones between “pet” and “master,” between domestic or even wild animals and humans. Swift with his insistence on a kind of rude truth-telling is interested in such possibilities.

Veterinary Medicine

Veterinary medicine could be a subject in itself; it might help us to see how we see animals as both like us and unlike us. Do we care for animals, regardless of how this will benefit us, because we “feel their pain,” assuming it is like our pain, and we want to alleviate the pain as we would our own? Perhaps veterinary care always means paying attention to the needs of a particular animal, and having a relationship with that animal. In a recent book on some highlights in the history of veterinary medicine, Philipp Schott says that while “deeply empathetic relationships with animals had existed at various times in history in various cultures around the world,” the “veterinary profession as we understand it today” arose from “a more modern conception of empathy toward animals.” As warfare became more mechanized and industrial as at the Battle of Waterloo, with more destructive weapons, and larger numbers of men and horses on the battlefield, the suffering of horses on the battlefield became more conspicuous or impossible to ignore. It was horses vs. guns, with big guns in some ways coming before small ones, rather than vs. swords and similar weapons. It was also part of modernity to become more aware of the causes of plagues, and work on treating and preventing disease. There is an obvious similarity between human diseases and animal ones, and insofar as we identify to some extent with the suffering of animals, we want to treat them in somewhat like the same way we treat each other, and our own children. There is still always a question: is the main motive for caring for animals to help them, or to make them more useful (or in some cases more pleasant) to ourselves? Are war horses, like soldiers, patched up so they can fight again? Is sickness among domestic animals treated primarily for business reasons? Without such human motivations, how much concern for their well-being would beasts ever receive from humans? A shepherd, let us say, working for little or nothing, is expected to sacrifice his well-being, even perhaps his life, to protect his charges; but surely the shepherd is working for someone who profits from wool and lamb chops.

Schott describes a prehistoric burial site indicating that medicinal treatment, quite possibly loving or caring treatment, was given to a dog, presumably a household pet. It makes sense that when people had time on their hands, they would experiment with herbs and other treatments both for themselves and for domestic dogs. Why would human beings care at all for non-human animals, when they are not famous for showing love or concern for a large number of their fellow humans? Schott explains that in many cultures, there was no thinking of a clear separation between human beings and the world around them, including animals and plants. What we might call divine qualities were attributed to many things and events; any of them might provide a kind of order or organization to what is otherwise a random if not chaotic world. People who were thought of as healers or “witches” would have animals known as “familiars,” who might have certain powers of their own; by almost the same token, when accusations of black magic and witchcraft arose, a “familiar” animal was often blamed. Still going back to ancient times, Schott describes documents confirming that veterinary work was performed on elephants and horses in India. Such animals require expensive care, so there would be a rich client or patron paying for the work of the vet. There were treatments for constipation—a big job in the case of elephants–among other things. Schott says one famous practitioner “gives every indication of having genuine concern for the welfare of the elephants, although, unfortunately, he also recommended giving them alcohol to make them more aggressive in battle.” When Jumbo the elephant was in service for human amusement, first as a fund-raiser for a museum in England, then in the Barnum and Bailey Circus in North America, he became increasingly moody, sometimes even violent. Belated autopsies have revealed that for various reasons, he would have lived in considerable pain. He did not chew “hard” foods like branches, that would have allowed older teeth to be replaced by newer ones, so he suffered from abscesses and other issues. In general his trudging around in a performance was not enough exercise—in the wild he would have walked and even run for some distance. He probably carried too much weight on his back. His long-time handler knew Jumbo was suffering, and got in the habit of giving him beer every day to calm him down. The show must go on.

Veterinary science might be divided into two somewhat different enterprises: the domestic one, and the agricultural or more scientific one. With the domestic version of this science, we can be assured that we demonstrate a proper awareness that animals who are seen as pets have “feelings” just like us, probably even a consciousness of some kind. We show our superiority to our ancestors by establishing standards for the proper treatment of pets and other domestic animals. There are laws to protect them, along with a great deal of shared information about properly acknowledging the animals, being willing to sacrifice time and money for their well-being. In Britain the establishment of the  Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA) predated any society dedicated to the well-being of children, although children were mentioned in passing in some of the founding documents about animals. We do not believe in leaving the treatment of pets to chance. The scientific version of veterinary medicine, on the other hand, reminds us that modern science focuses on making life better for human beings. Animals are generally treated well so as to maximize the eventual return that can be gained from them, whether from skins, milk, or meat. There are rules that supposedly require farm animals to be treated humanely, but it is fair to say profit is allowed to come first, or to be tied for first. Largely away from farms, but overlapping with them, some animals are tortured for research purposes. In his tour of laboratories run by “Projectors” in the third voyage, Gulliver finds a dog being subjected to a cruel and grotesque experiment, which turns out to be fatal (III.5, 169). Something can apparently be learned from this, but the Projector involved here is apparently in the habit of working on people so that more can be learned. The Projectors all need to seek money to continue their research. If there is little or no profit or learning to be had from captive animals, they are disposed of unless they somehow happen to be adopted as pets. Modern science proceeds by experiments, and more is learned from large-scale, somewhat cruel experiments than from anything smaller or kinder; captive animals live with the consequences of these somewhat troubling facts. Of course, with modern medicine we work on human beings in much the same way we work on captive animals, another somewhat troubling fact. The history of surgery, for example, shows that progress only became possible when patients were tortured and killed on a considerable scale. We wish for human life both to last longer and to be more comfortable than it has been in the past. People in the present might have to suffer so that experts can learn how to benefit “posterity”—somewhat hypothetical people of the future. Some dreamers like to imagine that in that imagined future we will have more scientific discoveries, more great literature, and so on—not just more comfortable life, and longer, but richer, perhaps spiritually and in other ways. Swift shows extreme skepticism about this kind of optimism—if everything becomes completely different, this will mean our lives are better—in his treatment of modern science. Our treatment of animals, how we care for them, may be an indicator of what we think of our selves—whether, for example, every life is in a way precious, to be considered an end in itself rather than a means to an end.

Back to Swift

Even looking outside Gulliver’s Travels, we can credit Swift with some of the attitude to animals that we might associate with veterinary care. Swift had undeniable affection for certain animals, most notably dogs and horses. He did not actually originate the expression “every dog has its day”; there is a source in English for this phrase in 1539—two centuries before the Travels. This may go back to an ancient source: “even a dog gets its revenge,” with the interesting implication that dogs, like people, are capable of waiting for a chance to get back at their oppressors. The peasants who are expected by the masters to remain docile, passive, and compliant may rise up; the same is perhaps true of dogs. If it seems unlikely that dogs think about revenge—surely that would be more characteristic of cats—we can at least say a good dog has a way of finding some good, something to be cheerful about, even on a bad day. Dogs take a great deal of abuse, including from humans and sometimes from each other. I have heard a dog lover say humans don’t deserve dogs. Plato has Socrates say that perhaps the most desirable quality in a dog is loyalty—the tendency to accept discipline from a master. A “good” dog will remain loyal even to a bad master—not that anyone ought to be encouraged to be a bad master. For all their famous loyalty, dogs may always be waiting to get their chance for a little more happiness.

What may have been new with Swift is the thought that “every dog must have its day.” This appears in a poem by Swift about a political and legal controversy: was a famous English bishop corresponding with an exiled royal family in France in a way that constituted treason, or was he simply arranging for a prize puppy to be sent to him? (Upon the Horrid Plot discovered by Harlequin, 1723. The bishop in question was Atterbury, a friend of Swift’s). Swift, who was often identified as a Tory, says a Whig claimed that in a case of treason there was an informer who helped identify the culprit—the informer was a dog who, confusingly enough, is unable to speak. Swift replies that human informers are always described as dogs by their enemies, and they are given treats, of the kind that dogs would appreciate, by the people who benefit from their betrayal. Swift makes it clear he has no complaint about dogs as such; “every dog must have its day,” and accepting treats in return for a betrayal of friendship may not be a bad deal—for a dog. Obviously Swift hopes that people can appreciate dogs, even feel affection for them, while aspiring to a higher standard of conduct for themselves.

One can also find an interesting discussion as to whether Swift originated the expression “raining cats and dogs.” In a 1710 poem (A Description of a City Shower), he described how a “spring shower” caused torrents of water to flow through the streets of London, on their way to the various rivers. One could tell from what neighbourhood a particular stream originated by the types of refuse that were carried along, the “sight and smell” of various things. Swift refers to “kennels” being carried along by the flood, with their “trophies” inside; the original meaning of “kennel,” of course, is a container for dogs. One neighbourhood that is mentioned is Smithfield, home since the Middle Ages to a meat market where butchers work. Surely Swift is not going to imply that in the London of his time, people might be eating dog meat and cat meat? Well, there may be a hint of such a thing.

Sweepings from butchers’ stalls, dung, guts, and blood,
Drowned puppies, stinking sprats [a small oily fish], all drenched in mud,
Dead cats, and turnip tops, come tumbling down the flood.

It wasn’t until 1738 that Swift actually used the phrase “raining cats and dogs” in print.

Returning to Gulliver’s Travels: when little Gulliver lives among the giants in the second voyage, he is treated like some kind of strange creature—no one is sure what kind—and even with people trying to look after him, he inevitably finds himself living among, to some extent at the mercy of, other animals, all very large compared to him: a monkey, a rat, a cat, birds and some insects, to give only a few examples. If Gulliver is approximately 6 feet tall, the giants are more like 72 feet and animals are of a proportionate size. Gulliver wants to argue that human beings should be judged by their inner qualities, including such things as the ability to learn and speak rationally, and their demonstration of certain virtues like bravery. This is a problem when you are so much smaller than the superior people, easily confused with mere beasts who are also on the small side, some of them actually bigger than yourself. As the giants in the second voyage become acquainted with Gulliver, it gradually dawns on them that he might be capable of reason, even of prudence and statesmanship. The Queen gets to know him a bit before the King does. She offers a kind of praise: “The Queen giving great Allowance for my Defectiveness in speaking, was however surprised at so much Wit and good Sense in so diminutive an Animal” (II.3, 92). Later the King hears Gulliver give a brief account of the Europe of Gulliver’s and Swift’s time. After a “hearty Fit of laughing,” he asks Gulliver if he is a Whig or a Tory.

Then turning to his first Minister, … he observed, how contemptible a Thing was human Grandeur, which could be mimicked by such diminutive Insects as I; And yet, said he, I dare engage, these Creatures have their Titles and Distinctions of Honour; they contrive little Nests and Burrows, that they call Houses and Cities; they make a Figure in Dress and Equipage; they love, they fight, they dispute, they cheat, they betray. And thus he continued on, while my Colour came and went several Times…. (II.3, 96)

So far of course this does not mean that actual insects are capable of the kind of “civilization” that humans achieve; only that inferior humans, no matter what they achieve, must appear like insects to great and accomplished humans.

Later, in order to make a case that he deserves more of a hearing than he is getting, Gulliver insists that we can learn from small animals.

I one Day took the Freedom to tell his Majesty, that the Contempt he discovered towards Europe, and the rest of the World, did not seem answerable to those excellent Qualities of the Mind, that he was Master of. That, Reason did not extend itself with the Bulk of the Body: On the contrary, we observed in our Country, that the tallest Persons were usually least provided with it. That among other Animals, Bees and Ants had the Reputation of more Industry, Art, and Sagacity than many of the larger Kinds. And that, as inconsiderable as he took me to be, I hoped I might live to do his Majesty some signal Service. The King heard me with Attention; and began to conceive a much better Opinion of me than he had ever before. (II.6, 116)

One might question whether it was strategically wise for Gulliver to tell a giant that tall people tend to be stupid; but the King, demonstrating his prudence as always, takes this very well. The thought that “we” can learn from small animals is repeated in a way in Gulliver’s conversations with the Master Houyhnhnm or rational horse in the fourth voyage. The Master is speaking to the assembly of horses, and he recommends that they learn one specific improvement from this European Yahoo. Instead of keeping wild Yahoos as slaves, why not castrate all the males, and then enslave asses or donkeys? This idea is somewhat novel, even literally foreign—it may amount to the only actual technology ever practised by the horses. Gulliver did not hear the speech directly, but apparently the Master said: “it was no Shame to learn Wisdom from Brutes, as Industry is taught by the Ant, and Building by the Swallow” (IV. 9 254-5).

Gulliver always somehow feels safe with dogs, even big dogs such as mastiffs, and sure enough, when he is among the giants a dog who grabs him in his mouth does not actually bite him, and in fact delivers him to safety. This particular dog is well trained. One gets a sense that one could never count on the other animals to be so careful. Little Gulliver has more to fear from two human children, including a baby, than from dogs. When Gulliver is raised in the air, and put in danger, by a boy of about ten, the boy is threatened with punishment by his father, Gulliver’s “Master.” This makes Gulliver afraid that the boy might “owe me a spight,” or harbour thoughts of revenge; “remembering how mischievous all Children among us naturally are to Sparrows, Rabbits, young Kittens, and Puppy-Dogs; I fell on my Knees, and pointing to the Boy, made my Master to understand, as well as I could, that I desired his Son might be pardoned.” The typical boy-dog experience might involve some deliberate cruelty. A huge baby puts Gulliver in his mouth, as a dog might; when Gulliver yells, he is dropped; it is only by luck that Gulliver’s life is saved. A bit later a female monkey tries to mother Gulliver, as she would one of her own young, but she subjects him to dangers in the process, and is killed like other animals who are perceived as a threat.

Back to Yahoos and Houyhnhnms

Whatever their faults, the somewhat bestial Yahoos are distinguished from beasts by their imagination, and this can affect bodily health in ways both good and bad. Apparently because of their diet and way of life, Swift’s horses suffer very few illnesses or serious injuries; they live to a ripe old age, and then die. They eat hay, with oats and cows’ milk as a treat. This is all in contrast to the Yahoos, who may get sick because of their eating and other habits. At one point the Master Houyhnhnm says:

There was nothing that rendered the Yahoos more odious, than their undistinguishing Appetite to devour every thing that came in their Way, whether Herbs, Roots, Berries, the corrupted Flesh of Animals, or all mingled together …. If their Prey held out, they would eat till they were ready to burst, after which Nature had pointed out to them a certain Root that gave them a general Evacuation. (IV.9, 255-56)

The Houyhnhnms eat only what is necessary and healthy, and use herbs only as a supplement to overall good health. The Yahoos eat in a way that has little relation to what they need, and generally to the point of being sick. It is some relief that they use one gift from nature that is not exactly food: a root that causes them to expel what is making them sick.

There is also another root which in a sense meets the natural needs of Yahoos, “very juicy … which the Yahoos sought for with much Eagerness, and would suck it with great Delight.”

It produced the same Effects that Wine hath upon us. It would make them sometimes hug, and sometimes tear one another; they would howl and grin, and chatter, and reel, and tumble, and then fall asleep in the Mud. (IV.7, 243)

Not satisfied by some kind of cycle of “repletion” and “evacuation,” the Yahoos become addicted to a root that intoxicates them, removes all inhibitions, and finally puts them to sleep, as if this is all an escape from an unbearable quotidian existence. The Yahoos are somehow always dissatisfied: “… it was peculiar in their Temper, that they were fonder of what they could get by Rapine or Stealth at a greater Distance, than much better Food provided for them at home.” Their greed, enhanced by their imaginations, exposes them to danger and violence, making them risk their health in various ways, possibly driving them mad.

In addition to ills related to food and drink, the Yahoos get sick in another way that no other animal in Houyhnhnm-land does. Sometimes “a Fancy would … take a Yahoo to retire into a Corner, to lie down and howl, and groan, and spurn away all that came near him, although he were young and fat, wanted neither Food nor Water; nor did the Servants [low class or low caste horses] imagine what could possibly ail him.” The cure that has been discovered by the horses is good old hard work, “after which [the Yahoo] would infallibly come to himself.” Swift understands all this better than the Houyhnhnms do, and as usual he is hesitant to share the secrets of just how bad the modern Europeans, and Yahoos in general, actually are.

To this I was silent out of Partiality to my own Kind; yet here I could plainly discover the true Seeds of Spleen, which only seizeth on the Lazy, the Luxurious, and the Rich; who, if they were forced to undergo the same Regimen, I would undertake for the Cure. (IV.7, 245)

The Yahoos apparently have imagination, which one might not have guessed from their presentation as beasts. Thinking about the future, the past, and perhaps about fantasies, they can get moody and depressed. At the same time, they cannot think and plan for themselves; the horses have to do the thinking and planning for them.

The Yahoos suffer from many of the constraints of wild beasts, along with a kind of benighted and catastrophic failure of some human beings to live a human life. They may present an exaggerated picture of humans in Plato’s cave of ignorance, except that without articulate speech, they seem to have no contact with the ladder of sight and thought that might lead out of the cave to the ideas. They may remind us of how difficult it might be to achieve something like rational and deliberative political life where it has not existed previously—indeed of how much such an outcome depends on luck. Even before the Yahoos “lost” articulate speech in “the great hunting,” they seem to have been easy prey, as if they had lost any sense of community and tradition. On the positive side, we might say, the violence of the Yahoos is more apparent than real; they never seem to do any real harm to each other, and they are too afraid of the horses to react with violence against their violence. Arguably the Yahoos are good candidates for life under a welfare state, answering in some ways to a United Nations, whereas the rational horses are not. The Yahoos also protect their children, albeit as one herd, seeing the children as a different more vulnerable herd. The putative virtues of progressives today, and of Nietzsche’s “last man,” may be virtues present among the Yahoos. If it is true, as the rational horses believe, that the Yahoos are not “aboriginal” in this land, their ancestors must have arrived by boat as Gulliver does later. It would be a good guess that they were Europeans. How did they end up as they appear to Gulliver and to us? It would also be good guesswork to say they have been exposed first to Christianity, then to modern science. Events in the first voyage are somewhat in the past as Gulliver writes; the second voyage might remind us of the reign of Charles I or II, with Swift making life easier for a king than it actually was, with no Ireland or foreign countries. The third voyage is set in a future in which the modern scientists rule. The fourth voyage may present an even more distant future—a utopia insofar as horses might live like citizens in the just city of Plato’s Republic; a dystopia for anyone not considered to be a candidate for guardianship or rule.

Two passages in the Republic may be relevant here. Fairly early in the dialogue, before the famous “philosopher kings” passage, we learn that the foreign policy of the just city is what we might call Machiavellian (419a-423a). The goal is to eliminate any threat posed by other cities. Of course it will help to have soldiers, always well trained and ready. There will probably be civil wars underway in a typical city; strengthen one side or the other, making the war more destructive for the “other” city. Thomas More in Utopia adds the detail of having brutal mercenaries on call at all times. Assassination would seem to be an option; also espionage so that trouble can be anticipated, rather than waiting for it to develop. As a last, almost desperate expedient, it should be possible to offer delegates from the unjust city a tour of the just one, so they can see for themselves that there is nothing worth stealing. Despite having that ready class of soldiers, it seems there is a lot to be said for avoiding war altogether. One problem might be that loyalty comes before either physical attributes that one has from birth, or even training. A loyal but weak soldier might be of more use to the right side than a disloyal strong one. This is implicitly part of the rationale for ensuring that women have their chance to compete for positions among the guardians; if they pass the loyalty test, there may be some kind of affirmative action on the physical tests. In a purely physical sense, the loyal soldiers might not be as impressive as they seem at first. The Houyhnhnms have no enemies other than the Yahoos; they know nothing of any country other than their own. The Yahoos are apparently a domestic enemy, more of a threat than a foreign enemy, living elsewhere, would be. Possible solutions to the problem are accordingly more drastic. Much later in the Republic, in Book IX, we learn the fate of people who are not good enough to be trained as soldiers.

[Socrates]: “… aren’t flattery and illiberality blamed when a man subjects this same part [of the soul], the spirited, to the mob-like beast; and, letting it be insulted for the sake of money and the beast’s insatiability, habituates it from youth on to be an ape instead of a lion?”

[Glaucon]: “Quite so,” he said.

“And why do you suppose mechanical and manual art bring reproach? Or shall we say that this is because of anything else than when the form of the best is by nature so weak in a man that he isn’t capable of ruling the beasts in himself, but only of serving them, and is capable of learning only the things that flatter them?”

“So it seems,” he said.

“In order that such a man also be ruled by something similar to what rules the best man, don’t we say that he must be the slave of that best man who has the divine rule in himself? … it’s better for all to be ruled by what is divine and prudent, especially when one has it as his own within himself; but, if not, set over one from outside, so that insofar as possible all will be alike and friends, piloted by the same thing.” (590 b-c)

The artisans, masters of “mechanical and manual arts,” were originally the only denizens (not really citizens) of the “healthy city” near the beginning of the dialogue. Now they are generally to be treated as natural slaves, to borrow a phrase from Aristotle. The difference between the best people, who are truly capable of virtue, and the worst who are not, seems to be as great as between the rational Houyhnhnms and the bestial Yahoos.

Machiavelli, Plato, and Swift’s Friends

Swift invites us to speculate further as to what some of his jokes and references might mean. Mansfield has said in an interview that the monkey in the second voyage of the Travels probably represents Machiavelli, admitting that this suggestion is “a little bit far out.”[1] The monkey sees little Gulliver suffering among the giants, grabs him, and carries him up high to where it is supposed to be safer. Gulliver is terrified, convinced he will be dropped or will suffer in some other way. The monkey is a female who tries to feed Gulliver “monkey food,” just as she would for one of her own babies. The food is disgusting. The giants, to some extent representing aristocrats with old-fashioned ideas, give orders to have Gulliver rescued, and then to have the monkey killed. Machiavelli encourages us to think that if we accept that we are beasts, and focus on becoming the most successful kind of beasts, we will be much better able to achieve our personal goals. We can think of leaders who seek “glory,” but to some extent Machiavelli suggests that it is always “security and well-being” that count. It is important to focus on the “effectual truth,” what is likely to happen, and what can be made to happen, rather than any kind of truth that might be involved with contemplating “ideas.” This of course is a big part of the inspiration for modern science. In light of the discussion above, we might say Plato puts in an appearance in the fourth voyage. Is the Master Houyhnhnm a philosopher, sufficiently deferred to by other Houyhnhnms in their decision-making to be considered a philosopher-king? If so, we do not learn from Gulliver about actual philosophic as opposed to public-spirited conversation. The Master may be more like Plato, keeping the teachings of his Master alive as much as possible. The Master never mentions the name of a philosopher, but when he says it is important not to teach physics in a way that conflicts with the good of a community, Gulliver reminds us that the Master “agreed entirely with the Sentiments of Socrates, as Plato delivers them; which I mention as the highest Honour I can do that Prince of Philosophers” (IV.8,. 249). Of course, Socrates like Gulliver’s Master didn’t write any books.

There is a “sorrel nag” who is a “servant,” even “valet” to the Master Houyhnhnm, and becomes Gulliver’s best friend and companion in the land of the Houyhnhnms. He helps Gulliver find his way around, helps him learn to speak the Houyhnhnm language with no accent, protects him when he goes near wild Yahoos, helps him with his building projects, and perhaps to some degree spies on him to ensure he does not pose any danger, as Yahoos in general are presumed to do. Gulliver is invited by the Master to join a discussion group, a kind of elite among the horses; it is not clear whether the sorrel nag is included. Supposedly by the kind of racial segregation that is practised among the horses, no “sorrel” (chestnut), white or “iron-grey” horse can be in the same upper classes as those that are “bay” (reddish brown with black points), “dapple-grey” or black (IV.6, 238-39). Gulliver says he came to realize that this horse felt a “tenderness” towards him, and in fact “always loved him.” As Gulliver finally departs in his roughly-made canoe, this horse stands on the shore crying out in his own language “take care of thyself, gentle Yahoo” (IV.11, 265). This loving horse may serve as a kind of Plato, helping a student gain access to the thought of Socrates without unnecessary distraction or disturbance. On the other hand, the loving horse may represent Alexander Pope, one of Swift’s friends in England who never made the trip to Ireland; after Swift moved permanently to Ireland, it’s possible he never saw Pope again. If so, Swift might be said to give Pope a beautiful horse’s body, as opposed to the body Pope actually had which was deformed by disease.[2] Pope was known among other things as a translator of Homer; perhaps not a philosophic student of Socrates or Plato. Swift may see himself as more of a Yahoo than Pope, less perhaps of a gentleman; yet somehow more able to penetrate the thought of Plato. Pope may have inspired Swift’s creation of the magician in the third voyage who can bring Homer and other greats among the dead to life.

Pope is also of course famous for the Essay on Man, including the passage in Epistle II beginning “the proper study of mankind is man.” By all means, Pope says, search whatever intellectual heights you are capable of; imagine yourself communicating directly with gods. At the same time, or after some “higher” learning, as a kind of correction, it is necessary to “come down to earth,” and admit one’s weaknesses, the extent to which one’s very accomplishments are undermined by passion and folly. Newton is seen as a great scientist who indulged in many mistaken pursuits, and seemed to lack self-knowledge as to his own limitations, and the limitations of what his science can teach us. Science must be “stripped” of her “equipage” of pride. Some parts of this poem must remind us of the Travels. In particular, it can be hard for us to tell whether “man,” meaning mainly the great among us, is a god or a beast. Pope was among the friends of Swift who criticized the Travels for leaving the reader with a “misanthropic” view that human beings do not even have a reliable orientation toward the good or true happiness. Without such a “telos,” how can it make sense to seek a lasting truth, even if one is always somewhat skeptical? And of course, how can one have faith that God is always guiding us, despite more or less everything that we experience in this world? One can read Swift as saying we dream of being gods or godlike beasts; it is closer to the truth to say we are bestial beasts. Part of Swift’s answer to Pope was that he never had foolish hopes for people, so he was never disappointed; it is idealists who become (probably selectively) misanthropes. Another part of Swift’s response is that there are important distinctions between the great ancients and the moderns. Pope urges us to see, after we have “expunged” from science what is mere vanity, “how little the remaining sum, Which serv’d the past, and must the times to come!” The past can offer us timeless truths. Swift suggests in various ways in the Travels that we can learn from the ancients, going beyond perhaps what Pope had discovered for himself.

NOTES:

[1] See Mansfield, Interview XIII (Bill Kristol). Mansfield has repeated this suggestion, while agreeing with Clifford Orwin, at least up to a point, that Swift sides with the ancients against Machiavelli. See “Response to Critics,” 340—part of a published exchange of views on on Mansfield’s 2023 book, Machiavelli’s Effectual Truth.

[2] The loving nag is “sorrel” or reddish brown; Google AI reports that Pope’s hair was “light, brownish, or even reddish brown.”

SOURCES

Mansfield, Harvey C. “Harvey Mansfield XIII Transcript.” Conversations with Bill Kristol, February 2, 2017. https://conversationswithbillkristol.org/transcript/harvey-mansfield-xiii-transcript/

________. “Response to Critics.” Pages 333-345. Part of “Mansfield’s Montesquieu: Can There Be a Moderate Machiavellianism? By Paul Carrese, pp. 333-345. The Political Science Reviewer, 49:2 (2025), pp. 296-345. Essays on Mansfield, Machiavelli’s Effectual Truth: Creating the Modern World. Cambridge University Press, 2023.

Roberts, Alice. Tamed: From Wild to Domesticated: The Ten Animals and Plants that Changed Human History. The Experiment, 2025.

Schott, Philipp. Heal the Beasts: A Jaunt Through the Curious History of the Veterinary Arts. ECW Press, 2025.

Stepakoff, Shanee. “Hiding in Plain Sight: Judaeophobia in Swift’s Portrayal of the Yahoos in Gulliver’s Travels,” Swift Studies, 35 (2020), 106-151.

Stewart, Anthony. “The Yahoo and the Discourse of Racialism in Gulliver’s Travels,” Lumen Selected Proceedings from the Canadian Society for Eighteenth-Century Studies Travaux choisis de la Société canadienne d’étude du dix-huitième siècle Volume 12, 1993. URI: https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1012577ar DOI: https://doi.org/10.7202/1012577ar

Swift, Jonathan (Rawson/Higgins). Gulliver’s Travels. Oxford World’s Classics. Edited with an Introduction by Claude Rawson, and Notes by Ian Higgins. Oxford University Press, 2005.

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