Growing up, classic literature was framed to me as this terrifying and boring behemoth sure to haunt high school English classes and students’ nightmares for years to come — and I suspect that I wasn’t the only one. But having also been a big reader from a young age, I was fascinated by them, a bit spellbound by the old-timey language. This may be why the first piece of classic literature I fell in love with was only seven pages long.

I was 14 when I first picked up “A Modest Proposal” by Jonathan Swift and haven’t put it down since then. If you are interested in dipping your toes into a classic, look no further. Fully titled “A Modest Proposal: For preventing the children of poor people in Ireland from being a burden on their parents or country and for making them beneficial to the publick,” the pamphlet was written in 1729, but fear not, some things are too absurd to get lost in the lexicon. Although introduced in the formal vernacular one might expect from a political essay that predates indoor plumbing, page two stops pulling punches: 

“I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in London that a young healthy child well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled.”

Yes, you understood correctly … cannibalism, baby! Swift wrote seven brilliant pages of political satire, solidifying itself as one of the most iconic pieces of written satire to date. In an era where satire has become inextricable from political commentary, I want to break down Swift’s particular genius. 

For the past several centuries, Ireland had been fighting colonization from the British with varying degrees of success. In the early 1700s, Ireland was almost completely controlled by British Protestants after a long period of Cromwellian violence. More and more farming land was stolen from the Irish to be used by British landlords. Unrepresented on the fringes of an empire only interested in colonial expansion and the reaping of land, the vast majority of Irish people were living in abject poverty. 

This poverty, in tandem with the stereotype that Catholics tend to have lots of children, is what motivates this tongue-in-cheek proposal. Swift argues that if England wants to address poverty and a perceived “overpopulation” of Irish people, it should adopt the practice of buying human babies for meat and leather. The proposal is entertainingly absurd in its painstaking detail of exactly why and how this system would work, from the ideal age of a child to possible recipes to summer styling possibilities of human leather, all with the formality of John Locke’s “Treatise on Government.” Although detailed, it isn’t particularly difficult to understand as there are only so many ways to obfuscate the fact that you’re talking about cannibalism.

There is something special about sharing a laugh with some 300-year-old guy. Truly, we have been making fun of politicians since the dawn of time. But unfortunately, much like reading The Onion in the year 2025, the satire began to become depressingly on the nose. By the end of the 1700s, famous English economist (and my personal enemy) Thomas Malthus would argue that if the poor have access to food, they don’t starve to death, which just results in more poor people, so therefore, to prevent an overpopulation of poor people taking up precious resources, you should just let them die. Malthus would go on to write that if England wanted to take full advantage of Ireland’s natural resources, the vast majority of Ireland’s population would have to be removed from their land and forced into manufacturing towns — which is essentially exactly what happened. 

Today, satire, specifically for young people, offers artistic and entertaining commentary on the political and cultural zeitgeist as exemplified by its domination of the popular media. Works like “South Park,” “Fight Club,” “American Psycho,” and “The Daily Show” stand out as massively successful and long-lasting pieces of satire. Jonathan Swift really walked so “Saturday Night Live” could run. More recently, Irish musician Hozier based his record-charting song “Eat Your Young” on Swift’s essay in order to critique modern income inequality. 

So, if you ever find yourself perusing your local indie bookstore of choice, don’t be afraid to check out the classics; you may just find yourself an ironic step-by-step game plan for implementing cannibalism.