The irony of the concept of the barbarian
The engine of the narrative is built on the ironic projection that the nomads are the “barbarians,” while in fact the Empire shows itself to be brutally violent, indeed barbaric—precisely in its treatment of its enemy, "the barbarians." The idea of an imminent attack by the barbarians is put forth by the Empire to justify its own attacks, compounding this central irony. The concept of the barbarian is a used by the Empire to justify its own violence. While this is clearly a strategic manipulation on their part, it’s also ironic in how it ultimately brings about their own demise.
The irony of wanting peace
The magistrate expresses his desire for “a quiet life in quiet times,” and is upset when Joll and the Third Bureau bring their torturous methods to his outpost (8). The magistrate’s desire to remain ignorant of the horrors of his Empire, reflects a more universal irony that applies to those who benefit from liberal privileges. Like many people reaping rewards of distant violence, the magistrate wants to experience peace, but doesn’t want to have to feel responsible for the violence that goes into facilitating his peace.
The irony of the magistrate's destiny
There’s notable irony in the magistrate's trajectory from a “responsible official in service of the Empire” to a stripped and tortured victim of the Empire (8). In the course of the narrative, the magistrate does not merely learn how his Empire works in theory. He experiences it physically. It’s ironic that the man who wanted to live out his days in peace is forced to understand, in the most visceral terms, the cost of such peace.
The irony of the magistrate's charity
The magistrate’s charity for the nomad woman contains complex irony. Stating, “I have relieved her of the shame of begging and installed her in the kitchen as a scullery maid,” the magistrate exposes his self-perceived magnanimity, while denying the causes of the woman’s circumstance (32). While the woman has been tortured, blinded and displaced by his Empire, he is aware only of his own supposed generosity. But the statement not only captures his blindness to the cause of her suffering; it represses the fact that he is also getting something out of her presence: every night she comes into his room and he engages in a fetishistic, eroticized exploration of her scarred, tortured flesh. The woman isn’t in fact in his home because of his benevolence. He’s obsessed and fascinated by her and he wants to learn about her. His "charity" is in fact his greed, his desire to gain some mysterious knowledge from her.
