Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Dante and Bunyan: Two (More) Guides to Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse

At first glance, it may seem flippant—if not outright ridiculous—to compare the world’s created by Dante and Bunyan to those of the zombie apocalypse. However, provided we move beyond the ‘hack and slash’, fangoria-style zombie stories (or those of more dubious content like the cannibal zombie sub-genre), those not faint of heart will find more going on here than meets the morbid eye. Upon closer inspection of the better zombie stories audiences come to find that the human themes, the conflicts,  and relationships—as well as the motivations behind the telling of these stories—continues a very long tradition of apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic literature. 

Some of the zombie stories I would suggest as warranting closer inspection include the films: Night of the Living Dead (George Romero) and 28 Days Later (Danny Boyle--Warning: opening scene is graphic), and even Shaun of the Dead (Simon Pegg & Wright); the television series: The Walking Dead (Frank Darabont); the graphic novel: The Walking Dead (Robert Kirkman), upon which the television series is based; and, the novels:  The Rising (Brian Keene); Zombies: A Record of the Year of Infection (Don Roff); Pontypool Changes Everything (Tony Burgess), later made into a film; and, even the more light-hearted, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (Seth Graeme-Smith). Amongst the most recent and, I’d argue, amongst the best is World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War (Max Brooks),  which arose out of The Zombie Survival Guide (Max Brooks) and evolved into The Zombie Survival Guide: Recorded Attacks, an excellent retrofit of zombie attacks throughout history—from the Stone Age, to Rome, and feudal Japan. The original book is being released as a film sometime in 2012, and is almost single-handedly responsible for the recent resurgence of this genre.

In this entry, for simplicity’s sake, I’ll be referring predominantly to Danny Boyle’s, 28 Days Later in discussing Dante’s, Inferno, and Bunyan’s, Pilgrim’s Progress (part one).

These stories—spread over hundreds of years—share common themes and devices. At their core they all share a concern—a pre-occupation—with the state of the world the creators existed in with an eye as to what lay in-store for humanity given our species’ frailties. All three are allegories as the deeper meanings within the stories reflect world’s beyond the texts themselves. As such, their messages speak to the moral, political, and/or social issues surrounding them. The stories often act as extended metaphors (conceits) carrying and evolving otherwise didactic lessons in more figurative than literal ways. Equally, many of the characters are symbolic, or are personifications of these more abstract ideas.

Where Dante and Bunyan represent societies more bound to religion and religious institutions, and where the ‘end times’ are singularly in the hands of God; Boyle, without excluding these realms, includes our secular institutions. Here the destructive power, for example, of nuclear weapons places  apocalyptic destruction within humanity’s hands. To the ‘original sin’ of our ancestors that assured our destruction (or salvation), Boyle has added hubris, hubris that began with Mary Shelley’s Dr. Frankenstein.

The world’s Dante and Bunyan navigated were, as Hobbes would reflect, “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short” (Leviathan; Chap. 13, para. 9). It is within such a world that Dante’s and Bunyan’s allegorical narratives arose and, thus, are unsurprisingly a reflection of. During such times it should not be surprising to find that the faithful (or ‘chosen’) would come to the conclusion that humanity was doomed, and the world they existed in was evil. It should come as no less surprising that many would have held that the ‘end times’ were nigh; that God’s judgment--his wrath--would be visited upon the sinful, while rewarding the faithful and ushering in the ‘rapture’ would be both a comforting and a vindicating belief to hold. Who wouldn't, then, look earnestly for those ‘signs of the times’ heralding the ‘second coming’ (apocalypse) and ushering in the time of ‘The Great Tribulation’. The chosen would rise and everyone else would get their just deserts.

As fulfilling and comforting as this belief might seem to the faithful, it is reasonable to assume that as time marched on and the signs of the approaching apocalypse petered out leaving only run-of-the-mill plagues, wars, and natural disasters as always, that somewhere during the wait even the faithful would begin wondering (and worrying) as to who, exactly, were the ‘chosen’..? Dante's allegorical ‘circles of hell’--filled with his celebrity denizens-- and Christian’s journey encountering a myriad of human foibles and frailties, would reasonably provide some solace.

Certainly we wouldn’t be well served to take too literally the eschatology motivating Dante and Bunyan and simply shift it upon Boyle; however, as the saying goes, ‘the more things change, the more they stay the same.’ In Boyle’s world—our world—humanity has created massively destructive technologies, yet, in the face of such destructive forces of our own design,  we've come to unquestioningly accept policies like ‘mutually assured destruction' (M.A.D.). Worse, we believe that, in so doing, we're actually participating in the confrontation of these forces--adequately and reasonably--in fact, what we're doing is insane. So, where the ‘faithful’ of Dante and Bunyan's world looked around and wondered what it was, exactly, that had gotten into everyone else that left them so blind to the ‘signs’, we would today find the well-informed citizens who looks closely at such ‘solutions’ and finds him or her-self wondering the same thing. Whether it is God’s wrath or our own brinkmanship that results in the apocalypse, the one thing that those in-the-know can rest assured of is that Hobbes’ observation is very likely to come to pass.

In such times, faced with such suffering, degradation, turmoil, and insanity (what else can anyone call such hypocrisy of thought), what people seek is ‘hope’; a reason they can cling to so as to endure the suffering: because there's something better to come.

Dante is goes through hell so as to be made frightfully aware of what comes to the unfaithful. He is then shown paradiso so as to see the rewards that await those who endure this world's tribulations accordingly. In so doing he is given (and giving) hope. Christian is confronted by characters who represent the foibles, follies, and sins of the faithless (the un-chosen) and witnesses to what ends they come to. He is shown the reward for enduring his journey will see his being amongst the 'chosen' entering the ‘Celestial City’--with, of course, the help of his friend, Hopeful

Equally so, Boyle’s protagonist, Jim (Cillian Murphy) is faced with despair, hopelessness, callousness, forlornness, and cruelty as he meets other characters on his journey and as he tries to make sense of this post-apocalyptic world. Along this trail, Jim is confronted with tragedy, great suffering, senseless violence, and—in the ‘safe-haven’ of Maj. Henry West (Christopher Eccleston)—is confronted with a world perhaps even more insane than a world filled with zombies. Yet, through this all Jim consciously chooses to be optimistic even though at times such a stance risks his life; Jim chooses to hold to hope. And, in so doing, he influences the ‘worthy’ others to emulate and/or to follow him to a better place. Through his actions, in all he faces, and all those he influences, Jim transcends beyond hope (optimism) as a character trait. It is in this sense that we can see Jim as being more than the epitome of hope, rather as the personification of it. [The idea of Jim as the personification of 'hope', and as 28 Days Later as an allegory, is not my own, but my wife's insight. An insight that gave me a whole new appreciation of the zombie genre--thanks Allana.]

In the 20th century and beyond the idea that God will like the cavalry to right the wrongs and save our skins is as overly simplistic a solution as it is unsatisfying a narrative. This isn’t simply the atheists’ view—although I am an atheist—it reflects a world where people have set higher expectations as to what constitutes satisfying answers and meaningful narratives to answer life’s larger questions. In today’s world we’re simply more credulous. Of course, there will be those who would argue that today's world is a world where most people inhabit the space somewhere between pessimism and outright cynicism.

I disagree with such an attitude.

Furthermore, I would hold that, at its core, such attitudes rest upon overly emotional and nostalgic perspectives, perspectives that choose to look backwards in the belief that, back 'there'--somewhere-- was once the ‘good old days’; or, perhaps, fail to realize (or admit) that the attributes they'd heap upon others they do so simply because these 'others' refuse to see it their way…more likely, it is a combination of both attitudes.


Either way, I hold that such attitudes as these belie an unwillingness--perhaps out of fear--to confront the ills of the world. Such people would dress their apathy and their withdrawal-from-the-world as being the received wisdom or as righteousness. Both perspectives are, in the end, pitiful excuses to hold in today’s world—this being said, we must not use the knowledge and awareness we have today as a mean of judging or understanding the past that Dante or Bunyan inhabited (to do so is to commit an ‘anachronism’).

Within many of the zombie apocalypse narratives you will find characters discussing God’s will, God's wrath, or whether or not it is the case that "God’s away on business." This does not represent a contradiction to all I've said. In fact, zombie stories would not be worthy of the deeper analysis I suggest they are if they were not to recognize the complexity of how humans react when confronted with such apocalyptic scenarios. In such situations there are going to be people who come to grace as well as those who will turn from it. However, the predominance of this narrative of faith (of salvation) is left as one amongst many, and is rarely answered in any clear manner (except, of course, for the recent Left Behind series by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins). The more representative and authentic  post-apocalyptic stories—irrespective of the mechanism of our species’ demise—are meaningful because they refuse to digress into simplistic deux ex machina solutions. In an era where the vast majority of the world’s population sat idly by while 11 million ‘undesirables’ (Jews, homosexuals, mentally handicapped, Romany gypsies, criminals, and communists) were herded up, tortured, denied their existence, and eventually murdered such apathy cannot—and should not—be entertained.

It is the same when we seek culprits to blame. It may have suited the world of Dante to hold Satan responsible, just as it suited Bunyan to rest blame on the shoulders of Beezelbub; however, for the same reasons we cannot accept the deus ex machina that is the salvation of our species from destruction, neither can we seek to blame demons or the devils for our failings. As the cartoon character, Pogo, so astutely observed: “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”


Perhaps we’ve simply outgrown such reductionist answers. This is not to suggest that faith in God is to be utterly discarded or ridiculed (although I hold no stock in such beliefs); rather, that in using God as an excuse for our inaction, or the Devil as the root of our evils, we're avoiding the reality that we're the architects of our own demise, and in recognizing this, perhaps of our own salvation.


The psychiatrists Stanley Milgram and Phillip Zimbardo hoped to better understand human evil (for there is no other kind of evil) by investigating the root causes of such atrocities as the Holocaust. When they found themselves glimpsing into that evil as something not rooted externally from us, but rather as part of us, they had the courage to accept this--no God or Devil here.


I would suggest that contemporary zombie narratives refuse to provide simple or homogenous solutions because it is common knowledge that the roots of evil are rooted in all of us. Modern audiences are aware of the fact that all that awaits the next attrocity is neither a demon nor a devil, but the right social circumstances to unfold and unleash this capacity from within us.. 

So we must search within ourselves for the answers and the reasons for surviving because simple survival is not reason enough. We need reasons; we need hope. In episode 3 (season 2), "Save the Last One," of The Walking Dead, Lori and Rick's son, Carl, is shot in an accident. In one powerful scene Carl's mother Lori challenges Rick to answer her as to why it wouldn't be better for Carl is they simply let him die peacefully and not have to continue to face what, at least as far as Lori sees it, amounts to little more than existing day-by-day on the raw edge of survival. Again, what meaning simple existence? Rick cannot provide an answer, and God is silent...

In 28 Days Later, the zombies of Jim’s world reflect some of the more negative qualities and characteristics of our species. In this world people literally eat one another alive and turn one another into their own depraved and deprived likenesses. The virus that ‘infects’ humanity is perhaps the only obvious symbol in the film: it is simply called ‘Rage’. Humanity is infected by its own hubris. On the one hand, are the scientists playing god and who rationalize away the suffering they cause other creatures as being for the greater good; While, on the other hand, the righteous and zealous animal rights/eco-activist's disregard the warnings of the scientist that the animals they wish to 'liberate' are infected. The activists justifying their actions as also representing the ‘greater good’. They invade the laboratory and, in the process of 'freeing' the animals, are infected, thus releasing the virus into the world and ushering in the apocalypse. In the end there is hubris and blame aplenty to go around, but only humanity is to blame. 

It is into this infected world that Jim awakens from his dream-like comma caused by an accident. He has no idea what has happened, or why it has occurred. He simply seeks to survive. Jim— a 20th century ‘everyman’—rises to face the challenges presented to him. Although Jim faces zombies, it is perhaps the uninfected humans who’s ‘pragmatism’ has reduced them to the level of the Gestapo
that represents the greatest dangers. In the process, he learns that to simply survive is not enough. He realizes that he must find meaning for surviving and, so, delves into the depths of his humanity to confront—and defeat—despair and hopelessness. It is through this Jim's self-sufficient inward adventure, quite unlike the more didactic and two-dimensional journeys of Dante and Christian, that he emerges to transcend ‘this’ world and ascend to an allegoric status, and one which we can both believe and identify with.

It is in this sense, and for these reasons, that I would dare to compare such ‘great works of literature’ as Dante and Bunyan to that of Boyle (Brooks, Romero, et al). Such stories present and force us to engage in the world in whatever its state--not to withdraw from it. We're required to question why we would wish to continue to exist--not simply to emerge from the other side. Just as Rick, from The Walking Dead, eventually finds and can provide an answer that gives Lori reasons to see why Carl should survive, Jim, from 28 Days Later, can present reasons as to what meaning there is in this existence?


Without disparaging these works, although we may be able to enter into Dante's and Christian's narratives, I would argue that to do so is more an academic pursuit than one most audiences can identify directly with. I would, then, also hold that Jim is a better Virgil to us than either Dante or Christian.


One significant difference between our world and those of Dante and Bunyan is that, at least to some extent, we’ve harnessed our hubris. We've come to realize that the causes--as well as the solutions--are to be found inside of us: we need not seek salvation externally nor wait idly by until it comes to us; hoping for such salvation is no 'hope' at all. Our narratives—however perennial to the human condition—require more complex, dynamic, varied, and ambiguous narratives as well as solutions…That is, if solutions are forthcoming at all.

 Today, more than any time in our past, we are more accepting of ambiguity, if we simply don't demand it Therefore, our allegories must reflect this ambiguity if they're to be both believable and meaningful to us.

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