Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley
I first read this book some 50 years ago, in the seventh grade, when I was about 12 years old. I kind liked it, and thought of the world it created as a nice place full of happy people. And when they weren't happy, authorities spread Soma into the air, making them happy.
More recently, I expressed the opinion, based on that reading in the long, long ago, that I did not understand why the novel was listed with other dystopias, such as 1984. Twitter raged at my stupidity.
So I gave it a re-read. I still have my copy (paperback, published in 1969, costing $3.50) so I didn't have to buy it again. That second reading showed how wrong I was.
Yes, Huxley's world is still a place full of happy people. Well, seemingly happy. Indeed, they are bred to be happy, then slotted into society where they will be happy.
But here's what I know now. They are happy on the surface, because they have everything they could possibly need or want. They are conditioned to think in certain ways. Their standing in society is based on on how they were bred. No mothers and fathers exist in this world, just a sperm and an egg put in a test tube, manipulated for certain conditions, and then turned into a baby. A baby who will grow into an adult who will fit perfectly into whatever role was predetermined -- whether that be a moronic, low-level Epsilon worker; a smart Alpha leader, or anything in between. And society will give proper respect to all those people, knowing that they are conditioned to accept their roles, which all carry value. No more discrimination and no more bigotry. Just acceptance.
All sexual fantasies are fulfilled -- and because love, or life partners, or family, are unknown, then guilt, deception, or rejection are not issues. For entertainment, sports and games and "feelies" -- a kind of interactive porn -- are constantly available.
And if none of those does the trick, there is Soma. Just a half-gram, and off you go to your own happy place, with no consequences -- no hangover, no sadness, no feelings of regret -- upon return.
But here's the thing: With all this happiness, based on constant entertainment and diversion, the loss is of self and identity. There is no need for contemplation, for self-reflection, or quiet time. There's no reading, or writing, or art, or creativity.
It's not that this world burns books; it just takes away the need for them. It's not that it bans theater, it just makes the arts unnecessary. It doesn't prohibit drawings or sculptures, or music, or history, it just replaces them with constant, public entertainment.
And as such, there is no individuality or privacy, only group-think and public behavior. There is no downtime, just consumption and control. But unlike Orwell's 1984, that control is not achieved through pain and fear, but with pleasure and distraction. Control is established through fulfilling people's childish and adolescent desires -- keeping them childish and adolescent.
Without unmet needs, without goals to strive for, without conflict, without the ugliness of life, there is no beauty, no art, no humanity.
It may be a happy place, but it's still a dystopia.
Yes, Huxley's world is still a place full of happy people. Well, seemingly happy. Indeed, they are bred to be happy, then slotted into society where they will be happy.
But here's what I know now. They are happy on the surface, because they have everything they could possibly need or want. They are conditioned to think in certain ways. Their standing in society is based on on how they were bred. No mothers and fathers exist in this world, just a sperm and an egg put in a test tube, manipulated for certain conditions, and then turned into a baby. A baby who will grow into an adult who will fit perfectly into whatever role was predetermined -- whether that be a moronic, low-level Epsilon worker; a smart Alpha leader, or anything in between. And society will give proper respect to all those people, knowing that they are conditioned to accept their roles, which all carry value. No more discrimination and no more bigotry. Just acceptance.All sexual fantasies are fulfilled -- and because love, or life partners, or family, are unknown, then guilt, deception, or rejection are not issues. For entertainment, sports and games and "feelies" -- a kind of interactive porn -- are constantly available.
And if none of those does the trick, there is Soma. Just a half-gram, and off you go to your own happy place, with no consequences -- no hangover, no sadness, no feelings of regret -- upon return.
But here's the thing: With all this happiness, based on constant entertainment and diversion, the loss is of self and identity. There is no need for contemplation, for self-reflection, or quiet time. There's no reading, or writing, or art, or creativity.
It's not that this world burns books; it just takes away the need for them. It's not that it bans theater, it just makes the arts unnecessary. It doesn't prohibit drawings or sculptures, or music, or history, it just replaces them with constant, public entertainment.
And as such, there is no individuality or privacy, only group-think and public behavior. There is no downtime, just consumption and control. But unlike Orwell's 1984, that control is not achieved through pain and fear, but with pleasure and distraction. Control is established through fulfilling people's childish and adolescent desires -- keeping them childish and adolescent.
Without unmet needs, without goals to strive for, without conflict, without the ugliness of life, there is no beauty, no art, no humanity.
It may be a happy place, but it's still a dystopia.
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