Virginia Woolf's critique of 1930s poetry as too often an exercise in didacticism is perhaps justified from a general perspective. The overwhelming scale of the fascist threat that emerged in Franco's Spain, however, holds a unique place in the literary history of this period. The Spanish Civil War served as a call to arms that legitimized for many the adoption of a far-left alternative to awaken the closed eyes of many in Britain and across Europe. As a subject for adopting a speaker mentality, few moments in modern history are more worthy. What perhaps escapes Virginia Woolf's general opinion is that many of those poets had but one problem guiding them. Far more instructive in analyzing his claim is how the talented writers who chose to address the question of radical liberalism succeeded or failed. The real question that needs to be addressed is whether active engagement with beliefs is best suited to transforming propaganda into art, or whether the key lies in detached, observational analysis. In other words, is propaganda more likely to rise to the level of art if one is fully or only partially committed to the cause? Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay WH Auden was never a card-carrying member of the Communist Party, but like so many artists and intellectuals of the time his response to the widespread advance of fascism manifested itself in the embrace of some left-wing ideals commonly associated with the Party. Although the iconic symbol of the dangers of right-wing extremism today is Hitler, Germany and the Nazis, for most of the 1930s the symbol of everything progressive liberalism hated was to be found in Spain and that face was Francisco Franco. The Spanish Civil War provides fodder for many archetypal modernist works of art, from Ernest Hemingway's novel For Whom the Bell Tolls to Pablo Picasso's enormous Guernica mural, none of which can escape the criticism of being at least partly didactic. In those days before the rise of the Soviet Union and the threat of nuclear annihilation, it was not yet dangerous to be a fellow traveler, a communist sympathizer, or simply a Red. Seen from this perspective, then, Auden's poem “A Communist for Others” need not necessarily be considered mere propaganda by its very title and subject. It might be regarded more highly if it were; in that it is “A Communist for Others” it suffers the fate of much proletarian literature in that it is crafted in the unfortunate tones of an intellectual speaking down to the common worker while positioning himself as one of them. The consciousness that pervades this poem is, fortunately, fully aware of that particular paradox: "We cannot put on airs with you / The fears that hurt you hurt us too." The speaker acknowledges the distance that exists while promising not to simply become a dialectician leading a seminar on class consciousness. This sentiment, however, is undermined by the lines that directly follow: “Only we say / That like all nightmares, these are false. / If you would help us, we could make / our eyes open, and wake up / we will find the day of the night. On the surface, these lines seem to indicate that the elitist is putting himself in a somewhat submissive position, as if asking for help suggests that his abilities are not sufficient without the help of the peers he turns to. It is worrying, however, for regarding Woolf's observation that the poetry of this era often yields to theIn danger of becoming a didactic, secular sermon that sanctifies not the opium of the masses, but the Marxian theory word of Jesus Christ, a secular sermon is probably not best served with a generous helping of subtlety. Of course, the interpretation according to which Auden's poetry is a polemic on workers' rights becomes more complex if, as Stephen Spender states, the poem is for Auden “an exercise in entering into a point of view that is not his own”. " (Haffenden, 1997, p. 28). Furthermore, Spender claims that it was precisely because Auden was not a communist that he knew how to write, but a writer who was attuned to some aspects of the ideology and who was also aware of its limitations that could have written better artistically on the subject. When viewed from that perspective, however, the poem is all the more a failure If even a somewhat detached engagement with political propaganda can sometimes seem so heavy-handed, then Woolf's assessment of the preachy quality of 1930s poetry seems true. Unfortunately, Spender may have been wrong in stating that a true believer was no better equipped to write about left-wing ideology. John Cornford certainly does not allow his poetry to be interpreted as an exercise committed communist. In Spender's terms, then, his poem should be less successful than Auden in artistic propaganda, at least in terms of “Full Moon in Tierz,” while the poem's final exhortation urges readers to “Raise the flag red triumphantly / For communism and for freedom” certainly sounds like something that could have been taken directly from Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto, or Lenin's fiery 1917 speech, the elegant nuance of what precedes makes the Auden's detachment is even more didactic. in comparison. «Even here on the scales our freedom is wavering. / Oh understand before it's too late / Freedom has never been held without a fight. / Freedom is an easily pronounceable word” is a poem that, separated from its subject, could be applied to any political literature. In fact, its lyrical quality is closer to an anthem. Or maybe a love poem. This is the missing ingredient in Auden's “communist” poem and in Cornford and presents the crux of the problem with Spender's statement. While no doubt a committed communist might put ideology before art, the same can be said of any poet and any firmly held belief. What Woolf's criticism is really aiming at is that modernist poets had to turn their backs on Romanticism as part of the effort to define themselves by what they were not. The poets of this era had witnessed astonishing technological achievements and incredible horrors. As a result, the literature of this period was typically pessimistic and sometimes deeply cynical. It was a clarion call to the masses who had been mesmerized by technological progress, but who were too quick to suppress the unspeakable evil that could be brought about with that technology. In the midst of a wake-up call there was little time for flights of fancy like love poems. Instead, the romantic feelings of many 1930s writers were sublimated into a passion aimed at stemming the tide of fascism creeping across Europe. In a very real way, “Full Moon in Tierza” is a romantic poem as much as it is propaganda. The tone is certainly not that of Woolf's speaker, although her allusions to specific communist events and figures such as the Seventh Congress and Dimitrov do not allow for the idea that it is in any way didactic. What Cornford does that Auden doesn't, however, is balance the message with vibrant imagery and a personal conviction. What is certainly clear is that Cornford believesmore than Auden; what is clear is that Cornford sincerely sees the communist cause as a means to establish equality. His embrace of ideology is on full display in “Full Moon at Tierza,” and that embrace brings with it another extremely important difference between Cornford and Auden; one that completely undermines Spender's thesis. The language and imagery of “Full Moon at Tierza” is the work of someone who doesn't just write about his beliefs, but values ​​them in the same way another person might cherish a lover. Plus, Cornford lives them. Cornford's communist beliefs are based on the fact that he was also an activist, and that he saw firsthand the horror of his adversary. If Auden's poetry seems like that of an elitist speaking down to the working class, Cornford's poetry seems like that of a worker speaking lovingly about the possibility of achieving equality with another worker. Like any good propagandist, or preacher, in this poem Cornford, proving Spender wrong, combines the broader ideological message, complete with its expected didactic qualities, with a much more subtle personal message of conviction. With “Full Moon at Tierza” John Cornford provides enough evidence to obscure the clear ring of truth in Woolf's statement. Even more unfortunate, from the point of view of both Woolf and Spender, is that Cornford manages to achieve the same effect even when his language is stripped of its romantic qualities and he behaves like a reporter. When “A Letter from Aragon” is analyzed alongside “Full Moon in Tierza” it becomes evident that in the hands of a true believer, function eclipses form. In style, Aragon seems to have much more in common with Auden's poetry than with Tierza. Both are clearly propagandistic and polemical, and both affirm the causes of liberalism. But while Auden's rhetoric lacks a fiery center and betrays his alienation from the words he is writing, Cornford's overtly preachy content relies on an undeniably ferocious call to arms that positions the workers in Auden's poetry as potential victims of the fascism. Here there is precious little evidence of the Romantic imagery that fills the Tierza poem; Cornford demonstrates that even a true believer can look at the situation in unsentimental terms and write about it with passion. That is, with passionate language. Even though the choice of words in this poem is less elegant than, for example, Tiera's “freedom” passage cited above, and even though it often appears as a bare, stripped-down reportage, it still manages to display the same passionate conviction that Tierza contains . If “Cornford uses poetry as a vehicle for politics” (Brown 2005, 196), then these poems both serve to make the point that, while perhaps not all poetry of the 1930s could avoid engaging in pedagogy at the expense of art, this could be done. Because both of Cornford's poems are so markedly different in tone, language, and syntax, they make a strong argument against Woolf's claim. Even more so is the fact that in the more “romantic” poem Cornford sometimes introduces more narrowly propagandistic language, including the much less elegant conclusion, and yet still manages to turn it into a communism love song. Avoiding the loving indoctrination of a fellow worker with juicy imagery in “A Letter from Aragon,” he still manages to convey the same sentiment. What is strikingly pronounced in this poem is that, although it seems more didactic and propagandistic than “Full Moon in Tierza,” it actually contains much less overtly pedagogical instructions on the topic of communism and ideology. It is practically impossible to imagine a writer like. 28-29.