The first and most important thing to understand about V For Vendetta is that nobody is necessarily good, everyone is morally gray at best and reprehensible at worst. And on the latter end of that spectrum is the Norsefire regime, the brutal fascist dictatorship that has taken over England. The story is not subtle in portraying the horrors perpetrated by the regime, and they are consistently cast in a negative light. However, it does not simply end there. Adam Susan, the leader, is actually given a coherent set of beliefs that inform most of what he does (although crucially, not all of it, a lot of the nastiest stuff needs to be inferred, more on this later). And what’s so terrifying about this is that in a sick way, his ideology makes at least some sense. His country has survived nuclear war, and was in utter shambles when he and his followers took over. And he believes the way to keep the country together is strength, which he believes can only come through absolute unity. And how does he justify the oppressive behavior of this regime, be it the elimination of privacy, the harsh and brutal policing, or the censorship of all that does not absolutely conform to his ideology? Simple, he argues that liberty is a luxury he and his people cannot afford, the war put an end to such things. The only freedom he sees in any other system is freedom to starve, or to live in a chaotic world, which he will not allow. And the scariest thing about this is that the more you think about it, the more this particular part of his reasoning starts to make sense, at least within the context of the story. Britain only barely managed to escape total annihilation in a nuclear war, London was flooded, most of the countryside is just flat out gone, and without a strong structure holding the country together, it would likely suffer a lot worse. That said, of course, this is fascism we’re talking about, and that part of their logic does not exist in a vacuum. They still put people in concentration camps, still killed everyone who didn’t fit their eugenics ideals, as well as anyone who disagreed politically, and still effectively brainwash the population. You can argue about whether or not that last one makes sense for a monolithic government entity such as fascism, but the real deal breakers are, of course, the former two. The “justification” of this comes twofold, with Susan’s being in his final internal monologue. He claimed to speak with God, about every group who he would later exterminate. It is unclear what he believed God to have said back, but clearly it was nothing good. This apparent hallucination could explain a lot about his obsession with the Fate computer, as his constant anthropomorphization and apotheosis of it is a primary motivation for his character. The other justification comes much earlier, not from Susan, but from Lewis Prothero. And on that note, we should talk about Prothero himself. He is introduced as the propagandist known as the “Voice of Fate”, in a comparatively warm exchange between Derek Almond, head of The Finger (ie, the future gestapo), and Roger Dascombe, Prothero’s subordinate. The important standout here is that Dascombe mentions how Prothero collects dolls, and suggests it’s because he’s genuinely sensitive. The next scene with Prothero is with him on a train, telling a story about an encounter with some prostitutes, when he’s kidnapped by V and suddenly that notion is flipped on its head. See, Prothero used to run a concentration camp, he authorized all the human experimentation that went on there, and eventually, V brings up how he also worked the ovens. Ugh. This reframes his collecting of dolls as a much more disturbing trait. He cares more for porcelain dolls than he did about human beings, and it’s possible that his obsession with dolls comes from his rampant dehumanization of his victims and thus his ability to project that onto something that is inanimate, but the closest to miniature humans that inanimate objects can offer. With that in mind, how did he justify all the awful things they did? Well, his defense is “we had to, it was us or them”, which is of course the most pathetic and worthless excuse he could possibly offer. And how does V react? He doesn’t even grace it with a proper response, only responding with “perfectly” when Prothero asks if he understands before changing the subject and continuing to rake him over the coals for everything. V, and by extension the book itself, does not accept any excuse for their ideals, and indeed, there is no excuse that could ever justify concentration camps. Larkhill itself is a pivotal element in the story, not only as the emergence of V, but also the reforming of Evey, the disillusioning of Finch, and a lot of important backstories, especially Prothero, Bishop Lilliman, and Dr. Surridge. Let’s go back to that third one. Finch, the head of The Nose (and yes, that is the dumbest name of a government bureau in the book), starts off as an investigator who is in charge of hunting down V. As the story goes on and Finch sees more of what his colleagues are like, he becomes more and more disillusioned with them and their ideals. And he becomes more and more desperate to catch V, so in an attempt to get inside his head, he gets his hands on some LSD and goes to the ruins of Larkhill, hoping to recreate the experience as best he can. The hallucinations start by making an old sugar sack on the fence look like a dismembered torso, but they quickly put him in the shoes of a different person, someone who was there at Larkhill when it was active, someone like who V once was. He’s reminded of everything they lost in exterminating everyone who was different from what they wanted, he sees a value none of his peers did. And he offers another pathetic excuse, which admittedly makes sense, as he apparently had no involvement in any of them or support of them, but the childish excuse of “we didn’t know the gravity of what we were doing” obviously does no better to justify the act of systemic extermination than the abysmal attempt by Prothero. The rest of his experience mirrors the mindset change experienced by V, and thoroughly challenges his loyalty to the Norsefire. Possibly the most notable part of this sequence, at least for me, is attaching humanity to the atrocities perpetuated by the Norsefire, and by extension, those of fascism in general. We’ll get MUCH more into this in a future article, but the attaching of human faces and identity to the horrors of fascism give the average person a much better sense of the tragedy and the sheer cruelty of everything that happened. This effect is visible in Finch, who can be seen walking off on his own, away from the remnants of his old life, at the very end of the book, and it’s done in the perfect way to make his transition believable. One more thing to address is that this is not the only trip through Larkhill present in the book. The real horror of Larkhill is in how we explore it from both sides. From the side of the victims through Finch and another source we’ll get to in a future part, and also from the side of the brutal regime through the diary of Delia Surridge, a doctor who Finch is particularly close with and former camp doctor at Larkhill. Introduced as a generally kind and compassionate sort, this is questioned upon finding out she used to work at a fucking concentration camp. When given the corpse of Bishop Lilliman’s retainer to autopsy, one of V’s roses comes with it, and she of course recognizes it immediately. It seems she really did become a more humane sort after emerging from Larkhill, because she clearly feels deep guilt and regret at what she did, and as such, when V comes to kill her, her primary emotion is gratitude. Her closest comparison to what her deeds at Larkhill say about her character is to compare it to a notorious psychological experiment wherein the subjects were led to believe they were torturing a person, and almost 60% of them continued administering the shocks even after being convinced the subject had died. Seeing how she draws this parallel, it is clear that her opinion on human nature is extremely bleak, so much so that it would be too bleak for a YA dystopian novel. Yet in this case, it makes perfect sense as a result of her past deeds and self reflection after she was, presumably, traumatized by the events where V escaped. After her death at his hands, Finch finds her diary and presents it to Susan, and by extension, the audience. It is a horrifying account of her time at Larkhill, horrifying in how dryly she persents everything. The dehumanizing nature of it all is apparent from minute one, as when she describes first meeting all the prisoners, she describes them as so pathetic that they brought out feelings of hatred from her and make her physically sick, and she is unambiguous in that dehumanization, outright saying “they’re hardly human”. And it doesn’t stop there. The dry way she catalogs the various deaths and horrific conditions her experiments cause in constant dehumanizing language that boils people down to little more than a single defining trait (race, sexuality, etc), sometimes a name, and nothing else, shows perfectly how little she, and by extension the Norsefire as a whole, care about the humanity and individuality of the people they trample and exterminate. When discussing certain deaths, she would only mention them as a sort of footnote The next important pair to deal with are Conrad and Helen Heyer, Conrad being the head of The Eye, and Helen his conniving wife with ambitions of being unofficial Leader. While he get a little to say in the beginning when all the heads of departments are giving reports on V, it doesn’t offer any real insight on his personality. We get that in the sixth chapter of Act 1. In a conversation with Almond and Rosemary, it becomes clear that Conrad is extremely milquetoast, if not outright spineless, and Helen is practically controlling him. We don’t get a peep out of either of them until Act 3, where this is reinforced, and it further establishes that Helen is clearly a schemer up to something nefarious. Soon after, we see her recruiting Scottish gangster Ally Harper for a planned assassination of Peter Creedy (we’ll get to him), and later on, a scene of her pushing Conrad around while remarking on how obvious it is that Susan’s upcoming public appearance is a plot by Creedy. This makes her affair with Harper (revealed shortly after) a lot less surprising, and it is in this moment we learn her real plan. If Harper kills Creedy and becomes head of The Finger, it puts Conrad in the perfect position to become the next Leader, and Helen can act as a puppeteer from the shadows, with her making a direct comparison to Eva Perón. V happens to be watching, and he makes a tape, mailing it to Conrad right before everything goes mad. As a result, the first part of Helen’s plan goes along perfectly, with Harper killing Creedy and assuming control of The Finger. However, then that goes awry when Conrad lays in wait for him at his house and then beats him to death with a wrench over his affair with Helen. But then, Harper manages to slice a vein in his throat with a razor, and he’s left bleeding heavily when Helen returns. She, of course, is furious, and leaves him to stare into a camera like the ones he spent all his life working as he presumably bleeds to death on the floor. The last time we see her, she’s had to take shelter with a group of homeless people, and they’re getting a little too… molest-y. She blows up at Finch one last time, and it’s unknown what happened after that. So, character wise, I would say Conrad is the most genuinely likable member of the Norsefire, aside from perhaps Finch. Despite being the chief spy, and also a supposed voyeur, he is the kind of milquetoast who is sympathetic, and seeing him rise up and fight out of genuine love for his wife is at least something we as an audience can get behind, fascist though he is. Helen, on the other hand, is flat out reprehensible. Her scheming to put Conrad on top with her puppeting him is at least understandable, but her continuous mistreatment of him is almost sickening to watch. That more or less wraps them up, they aren’t especially deep or complex per se. Neither is Derek Almond, the original head of The Finger. Even more despicable than Helen Heyer, Almond is unceasingly abusive to his wife Rosemary, constantly shutting her up, frequently beating her, and even explicitly threatening to shoot her. He is every bit as brutal and harsh towards everyone else, save for Susan (and I suspect that’s down to understanding what would happen if he ever tried). This makes his death at the hands of V extremely cathartic, but the interesting part is what happens to Rosemary. Left without a source of income and also kicked out of her house for whatever reason, she’s forced to shack up with Dascombe, despite absolutely hating him. Then Dascombe is killed by The Finger (due to the actions of V), and she’s stuck out on the street again, forced to work as a showgirl to survive. Then she buys a gun from Harper, and the final piece of the perfect storm falls into place. It is a coincidence so monumental that not even the best laid plan could produce so amazing a result. The plans and actions of no fewer than 5 characters create the ultimate catastrophic series of events to bring down the Norsefire regime entirely. What is especially important is the thought process of Rosemary, a mixture of resentment for all the sacrifices made in pursuit of his vision, anger at what he did to them all, understanding that it was him and those like him that brought them into this nightmare, and sheer hatred of him because she knows him well, they’ve met many times, her husband died for his cause, she was put through a nightmare as a result, and he can’t even be bothered to remember who she is. So she kills him, and chaos begins. And on that note, it’s time to talk about Peter Creedy, the successor to Almond as head of the Finger, and one of the orchestrators of this perfect storm. Of all the Norsefire, he is probably the least developed, at least of those who get proper screen time. He is an extremely simple character, perhaps unusually so. He wants to be Leader, and he schemes to achieve that, recruiting Harper first, and later being the one who convinces Susan to take that car trip which brought about the end of the government. And then he was betrayed by Harper, because Helen Heyer had a better offer, and he dies ingloriously, his throat slashed by a razor blade. Perhaps an end befitting so flat a character. His first introduction is after the death of Dascombe, when he makes a crude comment to Finch and is punched in the face. Most of his other character defining moments are scheming to plot out his coup, with the exception of his conversations with Susan, wherein he is unceasingly sycophantic. Similar to Almond, no doubt, in that he knows full well that anything else would get him killed. The only other member of the Norsefire who is given any characterization is Dascombe, a coded-queer radio broadcaster who nonetheless flirts with Rosemary after the death of Almond, up until he himself is shot by police due to V forcing him into the costume. There isn’t much to him either, aside from the implication that Susan saved him from the camps because of his talent as a propagandist, despite the fact that everyone, especially Almond, sees the coding all over him. That is an interesting idea, but it is inconsistent with everything characterized about the regime thus far. That more or less wraps up all the individual members.
The Norsefire regime, despite all the stupid department names, is a better portrayal of a fascist regime than most others can ever hope to be. Despite humanizing most of the major department heads, it pulls no punches on how ruthless and brutal the government is, and the heads of every department (except Finch) embody all the worst things about their respective departments. Susan is a fucking maniac who serves as the textbook picture of everything wrong with fascism, Almond is cruel and brutal, Heyer is a voyeur, Creedy is cowardly and conniving, Prothero is slippery and has a frankly vile view of people as shown through his doll collection, and Dascombe is manipulative and spiteful (Rosemary confirms he’s only flirting with her to get back at Almond, who disliked him). It’s a way of putting a human face on the monster that is fascism, and unlike attempts by literal fascists to do the same, V for Vendetta never pretends for an instant that these people are in any way anything more than scum. It is no coincidence that the most likable character is Finch, a police officer who doesn’t really believe in the fascist ideals much, he just wants to catch a terrorist who at one point killed his lover, and as he’s exposed to the shit the regime has done firsthand over the course of the story, his allegiance falters, outright abandoning the system at the end once it starts to collapse, and he is fully disillusioned with them after seeing the horrors of Larkhill with his own eyes. Nor is it a coincidence that Conrad Heyer, the meek and pathetic head of the Eye, is the only other sympathetic member of the entire government, as his job is the least offensive of all those given any kind of distinction in the story. Indeed, every department head is characterized in such a way that the magnitude of their redeeming elements is in inverse proportion to how bad their job is. Finch’s is largely innocuous, and the only one that exists in non-authoritarian governments. Then Conrad’s, while a gross invasion of privacy, is not, on its own, as bad as the others. Then Dascombe and Prothero’s is systematically lying to people and gaslighting them about everything notable that happens. Then Almond and Creedy’s is the most horrific of them all, their jobs are rounding up and killing people the government dislikes for whatever reason. And at the head of it all is Susan, the source of everything bad the regime has ever done. And Susan is indeed the most horrible of them all, in no way is the book subtle about this. He’s a madman, worshiping his computer to the point where he is literally in love with it. He’s not only insane in that regard, it is confirmed in that fateful car ride that he is literally incapable of feeling anything for other people, although after V plays mind games with him, he decides to try anyway because without his computer, they’re all he has left. And his immediate death at the hands of Rosemary is a direct answer to the idea of someone with so horrible a track record as Susan deciding to reform so late into their life: too little, too late. And it’s also no coincidence that Finch, the only one whose loyalty to the government ever falters, is the only one of the Norsefire to survive the story (except for Prothero, but give me a little slack here). This is a clear distinction on the book’s view on fascism, the only high ranking fascist to survive is the one who quits, and it’s not like any of the others die peacefully. Susan is shot in the head, and the result is that half of his head is completely pulverized, Almond is stabbed in the chest, Creedy has his throat slashed, Dascombe is shot who even knows how many times, and Conrad gets cut with a razor blade and left to die on the floor, desperately begging for his wife to help him while helplessly laying there in a pool of his own blood. Yeah, this book is not kind to any of them. Which is perhaps fitting, it is their comeuppance for all the horrible things their regime has wrought over the years.
The characterization and story progression of the high ranking Norsefire officials is a unique take on fascism that has never quite been done so perfectly before or since. Not only does it give a little humanity to the keystone figures of a fascist government, but it is clear that said humanity does nothing to excuse their crimes, nor are they particularly likable by any ordinary standard. It is a genuinely fantastic way to characterize them, because it’s exactly what they needed to be as foils to V, who is on the other end of crazy and… haha, I’m getting ahead of myself. We’ll get to him. Oh trust me, we’ll get to him. But that’s for another time, as for this particular group, well, that’s really all there is to say about them.