Assignment

Sarah Coronado

June 25, 2011 

Human Progression in Utopian and Dystopian Literature

            In beginning this course, I had but one small, preconceived notion of utopias, “they don’t work.” In further honesty, I am sure I also imagined longhaired hippies frolicking in fields of daisies or encircled around a guitar melodiously strumming to chants of “Peace, man”. What can I say; I am a victim to clichés. But, as in any other course I have or will enroll in during this program, I stand gratefully corrected and happily amazed. What depths we have reached in our study of utopias! My psychology background has been embraced here more than any other course (a fact my father, still cringing from undergraduate tuition, can take some comfort in). As this course progressed I realize utopian literature is not about hippies and daisies, but about idealizing and perfecting all of the aspects that make us human, make us a society, and make us feel that we have a life worth living. What this requires of a utopian text and its readers is a thorough study of human nature. In this sense, utopian literature is primarily a literature of ideas, but in easily discarding my hollow initial notions, I not only flesh out these ideas, but the key conventions of this genre that increase its readability.

In working towards a definition of utopian literature, a major theme of consideration should be human progression. Both utopian as well as dystopian texts fictionalize and consciously reassert again and again man’s or society’s movement beyond the harsh world that they have come from and beyond the way of life and thought they have clung to. Kathleen Breaux contends this same argument in her essay, Utopia: Ever in Sight, Ever Out of Reach, “We are products of our American culture, and thus, the red, white, and blue way of thinking on which we were raised has imbedded in us an eternal reach for something more.” In our readings this semester we have witnessed this human progression in several areas. In Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward, 2000-1887 our main character, Julian West, makes laudable progression in his mental reasoning. The effects of his new understandings are visible in his dream sequence at the end of the story, when he imagines himself back in the Boston of 1887. Now dumbfounded by the way in which he once lived, he embraces his former town questioning to himself why the others could not understand their own folly now that it was so clear to him. When he watches a military parade go by he relishes the sight of them, as the analogy of an army of laborers was one Dr. Leete often used in his explanations of the new civilization, “Here at last were order and reason, an exhibition of what intelligent cooperation can accomplish … seeing this so plainly, could they fail to compare the scientific manner in which the nation went to war with the unscientific manner in which it went to work?” (Bellamy 210). The text illustrates that West’s knowledge and the way in which he understood life had significantly matured as a result of his entrance into the utopian society of the future. On a broader level and allowing that Utopian literature posits much of its philosophy on community functioning (in cases of good and bad, utopian and dystopian), it is not surprising that much of the progression found within this genre also deals with optimizing social structures. In all cases, there is a movement away from a destructive or stifling society to one that is more positive and constructive. In most cases, the populace has overcome a millennial event (in Utopia, Herland, and Anthem it was war), however, in the case of Looking Backward, the society simply evolved into perfection. In either case, the collective society felt the time right to not only draw up detailed plans, but also to take the active steps necessarily to build a better community for better individuals.

            Human progression, however, does not culminate with the building of the perfect nation but is a quality that perseveres throughout utopian texts. As Breaux continues in her description of utopian drives in Americans, she explains, “Even the most stalwart of utopic explorers among us must eventually come to terms with the realization that this utopia will never rest warmly in the grasp of our fingertips.  Perfection will always exist in the distance ahead, a gleaming symbol of motivation that morphs and skips forth with each achievement.” Regardless of the perfection of their citizens and community, what we see in the majority of these texts, is the continual search for something that might yet be better. In Thomas More’s Utopia, this is nowhere better demonstrated than in the prayers the citizens offer to God giving their thanks “that they are born under the happiest government in the world, and are of a religion which they hope is the trust of all others: but if they are mistaken, and if there is either a better government or a religion more acceptable to God, they implore His goodness to let them know it” (81). The Utopians allow themselves to be kept open to any further perfecting of their society, although it seems that any new direction must come only from God himself. In Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s Herland, this idea of continual progression is understood through the women’s first reaction to the breach of their community. The women of Herland were eager at the possibility that they might further perfect their world by the introduction of the male gender. Instruction had spread over the nation at the moment of their breach, “Catch them if possible; tame and train them if necessary. This may be a chance to re-establish a bi-sexual race for our people” (Gilman 87-8). It was their belief that the three male explorers might be the key to unlocking a more perfect population and in a careful and guarded way they welcomed the possibility. On the other hand, of all the utopian societies studied this semester, Looking Backward’s Boston in the year 2000 surely believed they were as close to perfection as possible. However, even here we see that men use much of their leisure time for reading and travel, which admits that their individual minds are always seeking more knowledge. In Anthem, by Ayn Rand, there is a slightly altered situation where man seeks mental progression, but is blocked by the communal rules and laws. The inability to be satisfied with a seemingly utopian society is dramatically felt within this text. The rest of society is static, they are still, and several indications of this are given in regards to the numerous Councils. Equality 7-2521 recounts the day the Council of Vocations assigned his career to him, “They sat before us and they did not move. And we saw no breath to stir the folds of their white togas. But we knew that they were alive, for a finger of the hand of the oldest rose, pointed to us, and fell down again. This was the only thing which moved, for the lips of the oldest did not move as they said: ‘Street Sweeper’” (Rand 26). And in another instance, as Equality 7-2521 introduces his new invention to the Council of Scholars he recalls, “not a hand moved in that hall, as we spoke, or an eye” (70). The leaders of society are depicted as an invariable force that does not allow movement. By dramatic contrast, Equality 7-2521’s transcendence takes the shape of aggressive movement as he breaks through a window in the House of the Scholars and flees into the Uncharted Forest. He can no longer be contained within a static society. Breaking out of fixed scenarios and lifestyles is what utopian and dystopian literature is made of and the drive to seek that which is far better is what the genre continuously depicts as well as incites in its readers.

            Though rousing as these notions may be to the stalwart academic, to work as fiction (that is happily read!), utopian texts cannot merely be a fountainhead of inspiring ideals; it must also engage its reader’s desire for entertainment. Through its maturation, the genre has addressed this need in several ways while still advancing the idea of human progression (Class Objective 1e and 2c). One way this is achieved is by giving readers the conflict of a conversion. In Utopia, Looking Backward and Herland, the action follows the visitor as he becomes accustomed and ultimately converts to the utopian way of life (though it must be noted, Utopia gives little in the way of action). This conversion conflict pulls us in as readers because we are eager to follow the character’s acceptance or rejection of the new society. In particular, our class had a lively debate as to whether or not we thought that Terry, when finally released from Herland, would fall back into his old womanizing ways. He completely rejected the society of Herland and the class had fun speculating his continual or braced (depending on which side of the room you were sitting on) character development. The conversion conflict also brings us in as readers, because unconsciously, we attempt to be converted as well. Utopian literature is intoxicating in this sense because the progression it seeks to attain and problems it attempts to resolve are many of the social debates we still face today, such as appropriate punishments for crimes, the balance of capitalism, and imposed gender roles. With these heated social topics, it is hard not to put yourself in the place of the convert and argue along with the character while silently wondering, “Could this really work?” The debate that develops becomes one of the detractions of the study of utopian literature. It is hard to shake our political ideas and beliefs and when we read of these alternative societies, we cannot help but take part in something similar to a political debate. Furthermore, it is hard not to look towards the author and make either a positive or negative connection. Specifically in our class, some had trouble shaking Ayn Rand’s authorial intention (the literary analyst’s greatest scourge) from Anthem. They could not remove from their vision what Ayn Rand does or does not stand for and thus, they altered the text and/or closed it off to any greater meaning. Such is the trouble when encompassing social debate within a literary text. As readers it calls for our greatest effort and discipline.

            In keeping in the vein of Anthem, it is noteworthy that we do not have the typical conversion conflict, but rather, an escape conflict. Feeling that Equality 7-2521 is shackled to the oppressive rules of his society, we advocate for he and cheer him on as he escapes. What is most interesting is that what he escapes from is a society that maintained order in an astonishing way, through language. In my mind, Anthem serves as one of the best examples for the literary student not only of dystopian fiction, but of the power of language as well. For the people of this nation the word “I” does not exist and with its eradication went individuality. The word “We” becomes a conceptual reality projecting the idea that “all men are one and that there is no will save the will of all men together” (Rand 20). Nightly pledges are spoken every night and words are engraved in marble: “We are one in all and all in one. There are no men but only the great WE, One, indivisible and forever” (19). The existence and philosophy of this society is built upon this one mighty word. Prometheus (formerly Equality 7-2521) shatters this ruling “We” most fittingly with a new word: “I,” “I am. I think. I will. My hands … My spirit … My sky … My forest … This earth of mine … What must I say besides. These are the words. This is the answer” (94, italics mine). The same power that was used to bind him was also that which set him free. The very nature of the title, Anthem, also does much to reveal the power of language as we recognize that our lives are often built upon anthems, and anthems are always built with words. In this respect, texts in this genre offer a powerful reminder of the power of language in creating or escaping from our world.

            Beyond the conversion or escape conflict, later utopian texts relied upon the age-old fact that readers love Love, and the conflict that arises as it is pursued does much to rebalance the levels of ideology and excitement in utopian fiction. In Looking Backward, romantic tension develops between Edith Leete and Julian West well before West’s own revelation at the end of the story that he “opened [his] eyes fully to something which perhaps the reader has already suspected – [he] loved Edith” (Bellamy 192). Here the sentimental heart swoons and even the more cynical readers feel a reprieve from the weight of the many preceding debates on labor, capital, and law with Dr. Leete. The case in Herland, though less sexual and flirtatious, is no more less intimate. As Van is more and more won over by the loyal and unswerving duty to Motherhood and the implications it has for the women of Herland’s entire life, he begins to move beyond his previously established ideals of love. Readers begin to acknowledge that our conceptions of love and relationships could be reassessed, such as courtship, which is challenged by the differing needs of the women of Herland, “when a man has nothing to give a woman, is dependent wholly on his personal attraction, his courtship is under limitations” (Gilman 89). However, we are still giving the enjoyment of witnessing the intimacy that develops between Van and Ellador even while it alters his previous notions of love,

“…my hereditary instincts and race-traditions made me long for the feminine response in Ellador, instead of withdrawing so that I should want her more, she deliberately gave me a little too much of her society – always de-feminized, as it were. It was awfully funny, really. Here was I, with an Ideal in mind, for which I hotly longed, and here was she, deliberately obtruding in the foreground of my consciousness a Fact – a fact which I coolly enjoyed, but which actually interfered with what I wanted” (130).

The intimate element between Van and Ellador not only allows an entertaining element but another front on which the roles and expectations of gender and romance can be confronted and opened up for debate. In Anthem, the function of love operates not as a sugary additive to the greater medicinal instruction of human progress, but rather as an effect of it. Equality 7-2521’s slow but steady transcendence beyond the binds of the dystopic society find him experiencing love, devotion and even jealousy for the Golden One. Readers understand that without his growing impatience with this society and its laws, he would have never had this experience of love. Anthem not only balances out, but also beautifully intermingles instruction with anticipation.

            In further attempting to fold entertainment into literature that promotes the idea of human progression, the utopian genre borrows many conventions from other genres (Class Objective 1b). Beginning with the most identifiable, Romanticism, we see many shared aspects between the two genres. The powerful feeling of transcendence in many utopian texts, particularly in Anthem, is a classic characteristic of Romanticism. Additionally, the reoccurrence of the great “journey” connects the two genres while also giving the reader a sense of excitement as well as a clue that the main character will probably discover something important in the end of the story. Utopia, Looking Backward and Herland are each excellent examples of the journey motif. Each of our main characters in these stories take passage to another land or time and leave (even if only through a dream like Julian West) feeling that they understand and appreciate the wonder of utopian living (except, of course, for poor Terry). Almost woven into the idea of the powerful journey motif, we can also connect the utopian genre to travel narratives since both offer a description of new and different landscapes and people. In Herland, this is demonstrated with the three unstoppable male explorers eager to survey foreign soil. Beginning their investigation into Herland, the men fly over several times by plane so as to be able to describe and navigate through the strange new land, “It appeared to be well forested about the edges, but in the interior there were wide plains, and everywhere parklike meadows and open places” (Gilman 10). Their research into the foreign land also yielded descriptions of the natives they encounter, “those tall and sturdy women, with their cropped hair and sexless costume” (84). Van also reports much about the clothes worn, “They were quite as comfortable as our own—in some ways more so—and undeniably better looking,” as well as their rituals, “There was a most impressive array of pageantry, of processions, a sort of grand ritual, with their arts and their religion broadly blended … it was overpowering in the impression of joyous, triumphant life” (73-4, 99). Differences are also set up, often times dealing with the discrepancies from gender expectations, giving the reader a sense that this is a different land with a different way of life, nothing like what we are familiar with,

“We had expected pettiness, and found a social consciousness besides which our nations looking like quarreling children – feebleminded ones at that…we had expected jealousy, and found a broad sisterly affection, a fair-minded intelligence, to which we could produce no parallel…we had expected hysteria, and found a standard of health and vigor, a calmness of temper, to which the habit of profanity, for instance, was impossible to explain – we tried it” (81).

What this witty narrative leaves with the reader is a fully reasonable and enjoyable account of what ultimately is a fictional nation, as well as the pleasure that comes with “us vs. them” comparisons. Also laced within this narrative are challenges to previously held notions of gender and the roles prescribed to them which is intended to push the topic towards debate. Another genre that is recognizable within utopian literature, albeit a less interesting one for most, is Socratic dialogue. In fact, it is credited amongst many readers as one of the more painstaking aspects of Dr. Leete’s character in Looking Backward (My sympathies to him). However, through his measured and deliberate way of navigating his discussions with Julian West, Dr. Leete not only acclimates West to the new civilization, he leads West to fully realize, through his own reasoning, that this new way of life is indeed perfect. West often responds in blissful amazement at the wonder of this new Boston, “Ah me, Doctor Leete, how far you are from being able to understand what an astonishing phenomenon such a world seems to a man of the nineteenth century!” (Bellamy 174). The calculated rate of disclosure and explanation on Dr. Leete’s part is essential in converting West fully to the new way of life because it requires him to use logic to persuade his own judicial mind. Socratic dialogue, as well as the incorporated aspects of Romanticism and travel narratives, allows utopian literature to offer much more in the way of entertainment.

            Though tinged with these more colorful and entertaining facets, utopian literature largely remains a powerful tool in encouraging social debate. Through its continual reassertion of the never-ending possibility of human progress, utopian literature acknowledges first that we must question the way in which we have been living and thinking. We see this examination occur between the characters, but it also occurs in our discussions as readers. Utopian texts ask that we look back at the creaky machinery of society and human toil and not just shrug with indifference but demand to know how we can make it work more efficiently. By insisting upon solutions that are within our reach, utopian literature incites our desire for progress. These texts give readers two scenarios, understanding progress in terms of “We,” (utopias) or in terms of “I” (dystopias). More to the point, by exploring an ideal society we must also identify the ideal humanity that constitutes it. This leads to a study the human desires and motives which we know so well in our own lives. It is in this line of thought that I am developing my research projects for this class, centering on a study of the leaders who are able to create collective mentalities (essential to utopian societies) and the sustainability of such a mentality when individuality seems to be so strongly embedded in us (offering the possibility that some may view traditional “collective” utopias as dystopias). Utopian literature seems to spark as much thought and discussion into the structuring of the human mind and soul as it does into the structuring of society. And though, as readers, we clamor for excitement and readability, we must always bear in mind that simply because the pill is sweeter, it does not mean that we should disregard its medicinal value.