Engagement Versus Detachment

Task: Compare and contrast Alden Pyle and Thomas Fowler in Graham Greene's The Quiet American. 

Engagement Versus Detachment

by

Myriam Sbeiti

To be engaged or not to be, that is the question. In Graham Greene’s The Quiet American, these two opposites are battled through the two main characters, Pyle and Fowler. Pyle is representative of destructive engagement, through his innocence and idealism. Fowler, on the other hand, is detached, the objective journalist. However, as the plot unfolds, Fowler realizes he will have to take sides at some point or other. So what is Greene trying to tell us? Should we or should we not be engaged? Is it even possible to stay detached, in situations involving colonial forces, for example?

Pyle, the quiet American of the title, is an intriguing character, of whom we get conflicting views. On the one hand, the narrator, Fowler, admires him, his values, his innocence: “he was determined [...] to do good, not to an individual person but to a country, a continent, a world”. On the other, this very innocence seems to be what Fowler despises in him, what he finds dangerous even: “Innocence always calls mutely for protection”. In particular, Fowler dismisses Pyle’s naivety in his way of viewing the world, his black-and-white textbook understanding from York Harding’s pages, such as the idea of the “Third Force”. The very essence of the climax resides in the discovery of Pyle’s true nature, a CIA undercover agent. This engaged, soft-spoken, innocent, idealistic man is the source of deaths of innocents through bombings. The progressive disgust Fowler feels for Pyle seems to strongly disorient us from finding engagement resourceful. It leads inevitably to blind destruction.

Fowler, on the other hand, is against involvement. His motto resides in staying detached, whether it be for political matters or for relationships, and objective at all cost. In his narrative, his choice of word and placid tone give us a sense of an impartial, though slightly cynic, account. In his reporting, he shows to be a journalist true to the story, ready to fetch information where needed, ready to make the dangerous trip to Phat Diem in order to get a realistic account. In opposition to the idealistic Pyle, Fowler is quite down-to-earth, able to look at disaster and despair in the eye and understand the depth of it. By keeping his distances, Fowler believes it enables him to be true to himself, seeing as “True course is not to wager”. Yet, this detachment leads him to watch hopelessly as Pyle becomes Phuong’s new lover. 

In the end, Fowler ends up needing to pick sides. Whether it is Captain Trouin who tells him that “one day something will happen. You will have to take a side” or Mr. Heng that “one has to take sides. If one is to remain human”, both help Fowler come to the realization that even inaction is a form of action in itself, as it has consequences on those around him. In a discussion with Vigot, Fowler stands by the point that “both he who chooses heads and he who chooses tails are equally at fault” whilst Vigot points out that “you must wager. It is not optional. You are embarked”. In a sense, Fowler’s approach is noble in that he does not want to take sides too hastily and understands the complexity of the issues and the deep emotions involved that drive certain characters. But, inevitably, Fowler takes action seeing as he takes part in a murder plot against Pyle, taking sides politically by judging his actions destructive, and taking sides emotionally, as it enables him to win back Phuong.

Throughout the book, we see a genuine battle in the narrator, and even in the author, regarding the extent of involvement one should have. Both Pyle’s destructive and blind engagement and Fowler’s hurtful detachment have negative and fatal consequences. The author thus seems to suggest there is no right answer. It is quite impossible to stay detached seeing as inaction can have just as bad ramifications, and represents a form of action, as we saw with Fowler. Therefore, the best is to be consistent with one’s principles when taking sides whilst allowing oneself to waver when needed, as Vigot truly states. This is a common issue when taking sides with or against colonial forces, like in Vietnam, where reasons for intervention are so complex and involve so many mixed interests, that Pyle’s black-and-white confidence is often too superfluous to really encompass the situation, whilst Fowler’s inaction is often viewed as cowardice, to avoid responsibilities. So what do we do in that case? Greene seems to suggest that not wagering in our decisions isn’t necessarily being true to one’s beliefs. Changing our minds or admitting we are wrong is nothing to be ashamed of, even less when it involves important events that affect many people.