Lemuel Gulliver, a level-headed English surgeon turned sea traveller, narrates four voyages in the flat, factual tone of a real travel report. The deadpan plainness is the joke's setup: the more soberly he describes each marvel, the sharper the satire underneath, because he rarely sees the point his own account is making about the people back home.
The first voyage casts him as a giant in Lilliput, an empire of people six inches high whose politics he can hold in his hand. Court favor is won by acrobatics on a tightrope, two parties feud over the height of their heel, and a long war rages with a neighbor over whether eggs should be broken at the big or the little end. The miniature scale reduces Europe's factions and holy wars to what Swift thought they were: deadly squabbles over trifles.
In Brobdingnag the lens reverses and Gulliver is the tiny one among giants. Here he becomes Europe's proud spokesman, boasting of its history, laws, and especially gunpowder, only to be measured by a wise and humane king who finds the whole account a record of greed and slaughter. The King prizes plain reason and useful work, holding that whoever grows two ears of corn where one grew before serves mankind more than all its politicians.
The third voyage turns on knowledge gone wrong. On the floating island of Laputa, philosophers are so lost in abstraction that servants must flap their faces to recall them to conversation, while the Academy of Lagado is crowded with projectors pursuing useless research with great seriousness. Swift aims this at the science and speculation of his day, mocking intellect that has detached itself from common sense, and, among the immortal Struldbrugs, deflates even the dream of endless life.
The last voyage is the darkest. Gulliver lands among the Houyhnhnms, horses governed wholly by reason, who keep as brute livestock the Yahoos, filthy creatures with human bodies and human appetites. Forced to recognize himself in the Yahoo, he comes to despise his own species and is expelled back to it. He returns home so broken by misanthropy that he cannot endure his family and seeks the company of horses instead, and the book ends on his railing against the one vice he cannot abide in such a creature: pride.