Is Modernity Colonial? How so?

Is Modernity Colonial? How so?

“Now it so happens that during the struggle for liberation, at the moment that the native intellectual comes into touch again with his people, this artificial sentinel is turned into dust.” – Frantz Fanon (2001: 36)

            In his seminal work, The Wretched of the Earth, Frantz Fanon describes the native intellectual’s gradual disillusionment with the values of Western society. For Fanon, the values of modernity, liberal rational progress toward an enlightened humanity, represent in actual practice the moral justification for the divide between the colonizing Self and the native Other. As the native intellectual becomes aware of the true struggle located in the people of the countryside, the values of Western modernity come to be realized as a tool of oppression rather than liberation. For Fanon, it is in the struggle of the people that true enlightenment is to take place. Though Fanon’s vision of a third world liberated from the values of Western civilization has not been realized in contemporary society, his diagnosis of modernity as essential to the colonial project rings true. The very idea of progress essential to modernity and the idea of the modern as new relies on the construction of a backward Other in order to sustain itself. This discursive power of modernity and the global shift in material power that takes place during the 19^th century mutually reinforce each other in the creation and subsistence of global hierarchies of Self and Other.  The colonial nature of these relations lay the discursive foundation for what Partha Chatterjee terms a ‘global practice of power’ based on the metropole’s potential power to declare the colonial exception. In locating the colonial tendency in a unique shift in the philosophy and history of modernity I also aim to expose the limits of liberal humanistic philosophies’ ability to examine the nature of the colonial situation that they are complicit in creating. 

            This paper proceeds in three distinct parts. First, an examination of Tzvetan Todorov’s work The Conquest of America: The Question of the Other takes place in order to lay a philosophical foundation for a critique of the modern project as the bifurcation of Self and Other. While Todorov lays out an impressive framework to establish the problematique of Self/Other relations his own faith in the modern project leads him to the reproduction of the same categories that he sought to avoid. Todorov’s philosophical definition of modernity and his subject of study also lead him to underestimate the social, political and economic effects of historical modernity that take place during the nineteenth century. The second part of this paper uses Partha Chatterjee’s The Black Hole of Empire: A Global Practice of Power as a critique of the shortcomings of Todorov. It is also in Chatterjee that we find the norm-deviation structure that lays out the discursive framework for a colonial modernity as well as a distinct shift in global power relations. Both the discursive power and the material power reinforce each other and culminate in the power to declare the colonial exception and the ultimate representation of the colonial relations of modernity. Finally this paper will examine Todorov from the point of view of the oppressed using Frantz Fanon’sThe Wretched of the Earth to examine the implications for a gaze from liberal modernity that looks critically at itself but from a position of unacknowledged power.

            Before moving to Todorov, it is important to define what I mean by modernity. As Frederick Cooper (2005: 113) has recently pointed out the deployment of the word ‘modernity’ has so many different meanings that the usefulness of the term itself comes into question. In this essay, two interrelated definitions of modernity emerge; a philosophical definition of modernity and a historical definition of modernity. The philosophical definition of modernity defines what it means to be a modern. It is the discourse used to distinguish the modern epoch from theprevious.Simplifying to an extent, philosophical modernity is defined by a belief that through reason man (as individuals) can progress to a fundamentally better life than the one before. (Pippin, 2003: 4) While defining itself in juxtaposition to life before, philosophical modernity relies on the construction of the irrational, traditional Other to justify the progressive, reasonable Self.

The historical definition of modernity refers to the long nineteenth century (Hobsbawm 1996) and the social, political and economic global transformation that takes place during that time. As Barry Buzan and George Lawson (2013: 621) argue the global transformation revolve around three key changes: the rise of industrial capitalism, the emergence of the nation-state and, closely linked with philosophical modernity, ideologies of progress. The global transformation grounds these discourses of modernity in historical context that demonstrate how the process of colonization itself created and reinforced social, political and economic global hierarchies. It is important to note that both the ideology of philosophical modernity and the social consequences of the nineteenth century played out in a messy and uneven process that was particular to different historical contexts. Nonetheless, seeing philosophical modernity and historical modernity in tandem exposes how the social, political and economic consequences of the nineteenth century and the narratives established by the philosophers of modernity reinforce one another. Through this mutual co-constitution, not only of historical and philosophical modernity, but of East and West, the ‘global practice of power’ emerges around the power to declare the colonial exception.

Tzvetan Todorov’s The Conquest of America: The Question of the Other demonstrates a lucid attempt to come to terms with the philosophical implications of modernity for Self/Other relations. Todorov’s work ultimately fails, however, because he stays committed to the very modern project he seems to indict in his book. For Todorov the genocidal encounter between the Spanish Conquistadors and the Native Americans constitutes the formative moment in the understanding of Western modernity. In his retelling Todorov aims to tell a moral history of the present in order to answer the question: “How to do deal with the other?” Central to this project is Todorov’s commitment to a narrative style throughout his work and more often than not attempts to allow the words of the actors involved in this interaction speak for themselves. While remaining committed to an open narrative style throughout the text, towards the end of the work Todorov proposes that through this victory of semiotics, European logos has conquered mythos. Todorov simultaneously implicates modernity in the utter destruction of an entire peoples, which acknowledging the potential for modernity to rectify modernity’s breaking with the world and bring it back into harmony. I argue that Todorov’s argument is a profound step in the indictment of modernity as destructive, but that in attempting to recover some of the healthy parts of philosophical modernity it does not recognize the reliance the modern Self has on the construction of the Other. Modernity is not the discovery of the colonial Other, it is the very creation of it.

At the heart of Todorov’s argument in The Conquest of America is the idea that the genocidal encounter between the Spanish Conquistadors and the Native Americans was a defining moment in the identity formation of modernity. Todorov’s explanation for choosing this historical event as the subject for his moral investigation is predicated on this encounter as specifically unique because it was a genuine encounter between two previously unknown peoples. (Todorov, 1999: 4) This radical encounter with the Other, for Todorov symbolizes a defining moment in modernity because it “establishes our present identity.” (Todorov, 1999: 5) Through this event, Todorov argues, “men have discovered the totality of which they are a part.” (Todorov, 1999:5) The implications for this argument that is that the encounter between radical others and the means of victory of one civilization, logos, over another, mythos, shapes our present understanding of the world today. (Todorov, 1999:253)  As part of his moral project, he hopes to propose his work through a narrative style instead of imposing it through systematic analysis. Similarly, Todorov is sensitive to the critique of promoting European superiority and goes to lengths to discount the possibility. The complexities of Todorov’s argument caution us against thinking in terms of European superiority.

Todorov argues that what is uniquely modern and exhibits the capacity for destruction is the radical othering itself. The victory of logos over mythos takes place because the Spanish utilizedlanguage to act whereas the Aztecs reacted. Todorov (1999: 89-90) argues that “for the Aztecs, signs automatically and necessarily proceed from the world they designate, rather than being a weapon intended to manipulate the Other.”Todorov (1999: 112) goes on to demonstrate how the cold, calculating and rational manipulation of signs by Cortes is part of a coherent strategy to bring about the end of the Other.It is the use of signs as a weapon for manipulation that logos should be associated with. Here Todorov (1999: 145) seems to be indicting the philosophical modernity of reasoned, rational progress based on the individual in the civilization of massacre. Instead of being seen as natural progress toward an enlightened and ultimately better world, logos is complicit with the manipulation of the Other. Not only is it complicit in the manipulation of the Other, but it is also a part of the utter and horrific destruction of the Other. He explains: “But this victory from which we all derive…delivers as well a terrible blow to our capacity to feel harmony with the world.” (Todorov, 1999: 97)However, Todorov’s faith in the liberal humanistic project of philosophical modernity is evident in his belief that the world has the capability of being brought into harmony. It is in this juxtaposition between the capacity for the destruction latent in modernity and Todorov’s conviction in project of bringing the world through understanding that the cracks in Todorov’s argument begin to be exposed.

In answering Todorov’s original question, “How to deal with the other?” it is the Othering itself that seems to lead to aberrant destruction. Todorov (1999: 144) argues that “The more remote and alien the victims, the better, they are exterminated without remorse, more or less identified with animals.” Todorov highlights two equally unappealing sides to the reasoning of the Spaniards. The first, exemplified by an early Las Casas is one of equality corrupted into identity and therefore necessary assimilation and colonization. The second, highlighted by Gines de Selpuveda, is that of difference but also inequality, inferiority and therefore enslavement or destruction.

Both figures represent a failure on the part of philosophical modernity to adequately deal with the question of the Other. In Las Casas we have a figure (identifiable in contemporary society with human rights advocates) who seeks to project his universal values onto the Other and assimilate him into the ‘correct’ way of life. Though Las Casas bases his universalism on Christianity (Todorov, 1999: 160-161), Todorov’s critique can also be read as one of liberal universalism that seeks to extend the same rights of man to the globe. In Todorov’s (1999:153) reading of Sepulveda we have a critique of the idea that in order for the modern Self to establish itself relies on the binaries established around Self/Other that follow the logic of good/evil. At the same time that Todorov critiques philosophical modernity, his solution and faith in a rational reconfiguration of how to deal with the Other represents complicity with the same project. The solution is a balance between the two whereby we experience “difference in equality.” (Todorov, 1999: 250) Key to this argument is the difference between proposing and imposing.

This “difference in equality” is exemplified by combining the figure of Bernando de Sahagun, who lays down the foundations for a potential future dialogue and the solution to the problem of “the Other”, with that of Cabeza de Vaca. Sahagun’s dialogue is comparable to that of Todorov, who mirrors his method in order to discover the Other in his own work. For Sahagun, as for Todorov, a dialogue between cultures cannot be reduced to a method, the words must be allowed to speak for themselves and a hybridization of cultures must be resisted. The intention for both authors is to “juxtapose voices.” (Todorov, 1999: 241) This is the beginning of a potential dialogue across cultures for Todorov (1999: 153) for through this dialogue one can propose instead of impose.Similarly Cabeza de Vaca represents a certain modernity in the symbol of the modern exile, who is no longer purely one (as exemplified by the universalism of Christianity), but is instead suspended between two different cultures, belonging to neither. (Todorov, 1999: 250) This figure is also echoed by that La Malinche, of whom Todorov (1999, 100) says represents “we are inevitably bi- or tri-cultural.”While acknowledging the incredible destruction caused at the outset of modernity, Todorov also recognizes the tremendous potential of modernity to overcome the problem of the Other.

Far from Todorov’s narrative style being a celebration of logos conquering mythos, it is actually a response to it. The ethical principles to adhere to is that moral reasoning is possible when information is democratized and used as nonviolent communication. (Todorov, 1999: 182) Similarly, Todorov believes that by bringing two narratives together in juxtaposition, he can propose rather than impose his moral critique, which is contingent because it is not based on the natural superiority of one over the other. But this in itself can be read as complicit with the modern philosophical project. The potential for progress comes in because history and culture is contingent and relative and by recognizing this contingency we open ourselves up to “imperceptible shifts.” (Todorov, 1999: 254) Language, reason and a faith in progress, despite its tremendous capacity for destruction, also has the incredible capacity for construction and so logos retains its value in its potential to bring the world back into harmony. But in retaining his faith in logosand the modern philosophical project Todorov fails to grasp the true nature of the relationship between modernity and colonialism and opens himself up to critique.

Todorov begins to expose the problematic of the modern condition based on the juxtaposition between the Self/Otherbut fails to recognize how his own faith in progress and logos is complicit in the very creation of the Other.Todorov’s failure is evident in the way he reproduces the myth of the ‘noble savage’ he seeks to discredit. In the reproduction of the myth, Todorov (with the possible exception of the figure of La Malinche) does not give sufficient agency to the Other and ignores the struggle that takes place over identity between Self/Other. Similarly, by choosing a study based on the conquest of America, Todorov is equally inattentive to the social, political and economic consequences of the co-constitution of philosophical and historical modernity and that limit the potential for non-violent dialogue to take place. In order to critique and rectify Todorov’s project, it is to Partha Chatterjee’s The Black Hole of Empire that we turn. Chatterjee shows how the norm-deviation structure of modern European philosophy lay the discursive framework of a global practice of power. In doing so, he exposes the shortcomings of Todorov and explicates the social consequences of modernity as well as the co-constitution of the modern subject through Self/Other relations. The power to decide the colonial exception combined with modernity’s unique capacity for destruction renders modernity explicitly colonial. The very constitution of the modern world would be unimaginable without colonial relations.

In Chatterjee one reads an important distinction between the early modern and the modern with the former providing a space of potential action and the modern as a place where these practices are subsumed. The early modern in Chatterjee’s (2012: 125) Bengal still relies on hierarchical relations of Self/Other that constitute colonial relations. But the early modern as well represented a moment where “there was a more public and political domain where the idea of the citizen-subject-educated, enlightened, responsible, and conscious of his freedoms.” (Chatterjee, 2012: 125) In recovering the figures of Tipu, Tagore and Rammohan Chatterjee (2012:157) hopes to demonstrate the self-awareness that Indians possessed on the modern questions of state organization, and the freedom of the citizen. In the modern, the complex discursive structure of social relations manifested itself so that “its impact on the next phase of the historical development of colonial empire was reduced to insignificance.” (Chatterjee, 2012: 157) That Chatterjee distinguishes this ‘modern’ era in Indian from the early modern indicates an awareness of the full consequences of both philosophical and historical modernity coming to fruition at this time and it is to this formative era that one must now turn. (Chatterjee, 2012: 76)

The modern for Chatterjee is distinguished by a norm deviation structure that lays the discursive foundation for imperial relations and the manifestations of this in the historical practice in pedagogies of violence and culture. In Chatterjee one sees a fuller picture of modernity as a set of colonial relations emerging from the co-constitution of a philosophical modernity of progressive ideology and the historical modernity of uneven power relations. Chatterjee (2012: 167-173) finds in the liberal utilitarian philosophies of J.S. Mill, Jeremy Bentham the technique and moral foundations of empire. Their philosophies that fed the discourse of norm-deviation is largely consistent with the definition of philosophical modernity outlined above. In implicating these thinkers in the very nature of colonial modernity, Chatterjee points to the ideal of the liberal modern as an inherently colonial one. These philosophies (even in their universalistic guises) are based on difference, exclusion and control instead of equality and emancipation.

The principle of norm-deviation that is essential to Chatterjee’s conception of modernity rests on gradations of civilization. Jeremy Bentham began the technique of categorizing colonies on a universal standard and then applying different policies to bring them up to that standard. (Chatterjee, 2012: 168, 172)For Chatterjee (2012:186): “The norm deviation structure would establish the empirical location of any particular social formation at any given time in relation to the empirically prevailing average or normal.” Once a deviation had been tracked it could then be rectified by an appropriate policy so that it could progress to the universally desirable norm. (Chatterjee 2012, 174) In the colonies, where the people where the people were not yet civilized enough for self-rule, the best way to ensure their progress to a desirable level of civilization was through paternal despotism, a position advocated by JS Mill and supplemented by the philosophies of John Locke. (Chatterjee, 2012: 177) For the colonies, an exception had to be declared. It is evident how the paternal despotism of Mill and the idea of progress towards a universal norm advocated by Bentham relies on the progressive liberal philosophies of modernity. What is also evident is that these philosophies rely on a policy of distinction between the binaries of Self and Other, between civilized and uncivilized and between those who can determine the norm and those who cannot.

Unlike Todorov’s position that appears to indicate the emergence of Self-Other hierarchies should be located in the mind of the individual, Chatterjee emphasizes that these discursive formations would not be possible if they were not grounded in certain historical practices. The philosophy of norm-deviation both emerged from and fed into the history of modernity. Chatterjee locates three historical shifts that both enable and inform the norm-deviation structure, legal positivism, industrial capitalism, and a policy of balance of power among the European great powers. Legal positivism marked a shift from natural law theorizing that placed the sovereign status of Eastern powers in doubt and opened up the space for a justification of norm-deviation. (Chatterjee, 2012: 188) The balance of power system in Europe refocused attention away from conflict within Europe and allowed states to pursue an aggressive form of colonization. (Chatterjee, 2012: 189) Industrial capitalism provided the impetus for colonial expansion as the raw goods from the colonies were used in the production of capital goods, in a reversal of previous flows of goods. This reversal provided the basis for the global transformation that shifted material power heavily in favor the West. (Chatterjee, 2012: 76) In the undercurrent of all these historical processes was a racism of a myth of an Oriental despot and claims of superiority based on race and religion, itself a product of historical modernity and Western philosophies of progress. (Said 1978)

What one sees that is lacking in Todorov is an acute awareness of the dialectic played out between the historical modernity and the philosophical modernity. Norm-deviation is born of specifically philosophies of progress but it is grounded also in the history of colonial empire and born of a problem of colonial management. (Chatterjee, 2012: 174) Similarly norm-deviation provided a moral justification for the extraction of capital that fed into the ‘great divergence’ between global North and South. (Chatterjee, 2012: 191) These unequal power relations then could be fed back into narratives of superiority and further justification for the paternal despotism of colonial rule. With the bifurcation of Self and Other, imperial interests can then be cloaked in the “moral rhetoric of war” (Chatterjee, 2012: 195) but with the consequence that, as Carl Schmitt observes (2007:54), “war can be driven to the most extreme humanity.” What emerges from this interplay is the “privilege to declare the exception to the norm.” (Chatterjee, 2012: 337) In this definition of an imperial practice through historical and philosophical modernity we have a uniquely modern technique that produces a colonial hierarchy.

Todorov in seeing a philosophical solution that only needs to take place in the mind of the individual based on equality and difference fails to see the deep structural and discursive causes for colonial hierarchy that are marked by the interplay between history and theory and emerge in a global practice of power. Like the eighteenth century humanists who appealed to a universal humanity whose concept was “a polemical denial of the then existing aristocratic-feudal system and the privileges accompanying it,” (Schmitt, 2007: 55) Todorov denies the inherently political nature of Self-Other relations as well as the deep, historical structural causes underlying them. Todorov’s humanism and his romanticization of the possibility to bring harmony to the world denote an explicit denial of the social reality and the full implications of modernity. By staying true to philosophical modernity’s ideals of progress and harmony through reason, Todorov is limited in his critique. It is also important to note that in Chatterjee’s account the voice and agency of the Other emerges in the co-constitutive nature of the core and periphery that make modernity possible.

Returning to Todorov and his philosophical solution to the problem of the Other reveals the inability of a philosophical modernity rooted in the Enlightenment liberal tradition to come to terms with the colonial consequences of historical modernity. Todorov’s faith in the modern project that a path of non-violent communication can emerge to destabilize solid identities and lead humanity to a more harmonious whole is radically undermined when viewed from the point of view of the Other. Todorov’s account speaks the language of equality and difference, but through his silencing of the Other, invariably reproduces a claim of the superiority and difference through the account of the ‘noble savage’ that he aims to disprove.  Furthermore, a reading of Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth shows the limits to Todorov’s account of Self-Other relations and demonstrate that the de Sahagun ideal of cross-cultural understanding cannot possibly be an end in itself. Todorov speaks from the perspective of an outsider, claiming witness to the situation of the Other and the best way to deal with the Other while at the same time not allowing the Other to witness for himself. His account shows that modernity is limited in its ability to understand itself by the way it represents knowledge from an unacknowledged position of power. In the gaze of Todorov, as in the gaze of de Sahagun, the possibility of speaking of equality in difference is necessarily limited by the position of power from which they speak.

For Fanon, Todorov’s solution of equality in difference, if applied to a colonial context, would radically underestimate that nature of violence endemic to the colonial situation. For Fanon, Todorov’s move is one that aims to appeal to a native’s reason and ‘morality’ but in reality is a strategy to maintain a hierarchy. Fanon (2001: 33) demonstrates that “the colonized masses mock at these very values, insult them and vomit them up.” He laughs because he is aware of the futility and contradiction in Western values. The contradiction of Western values the native sees in these values is their fundamental reliance on the principles of difference and inferiority established by the norm-deviation structure and the figures of Sepulveda and Las Casas. Fanon (2001: 33) recognizes that in order for Western logos to sustain itself it relies on a mythos of racial superiority. Fanon points out “when the settler seeks to describe the native fully in exact terms he refers to the bestiary.” Just as the norm-deviation structure relied on mining different texts to demonstrate the inferiority of other civilizations (Chatterjee, 2012: 179), Fanon’s settlers rely on the mythology of the native as the embodiment of evil.Fanon also understands the “violence which has ruled over the ordering of the colonial world” the settler uses in order to protect their Western values and the binaries of ‘civilized’ Self and ‘barbaric’ Other. The hypocrisy of Western values lies in their reliance on violence to maintain the modern order, while in the same breath they preach peace.

The futility of Western values in bringing about a successful end to a colonial hierarchy are limited by the fact this reversal requires the very deconstructing of the system of colonization that was created through violence. The only way to do this is through violence. “The naked truth of decolonization evokes for us the searing bullets and bloodstained knives which emanate from it.” (Fanon, 2001: 28) Todorov’s inability to see this “naked truth” is due to the distance of his gaze, his inability to live the experience of the Other and so his inability to truly understand the nature of colonial hierarchies. Todorov and Bernadhino de Sahagun’s empathetic gaze from afar would provide little consolation for Fanon. While on the surface it appears like an exercise in solidarity, de Sahagun’s reconstruction does little for the native’s actual existence. As Fanon (2001: 34) points out “no professor of ethics, no priest has ever come to be beaten in his place, nor to share their bread with him.”

In Todorov’s account the Other is limited to reacting instead of acting. Todorov invariably reproduces the myth of the ‘noble savage’ that he sets out to deconstruct by claiming that their using of semiotics was inferior to that of the Europeans in understanding the Other. The Aztecs are consistently displayed as naïve and Cortes, despite the violence he incurs, a truly brilliant manipulator. (Todorov, 1999: 127) The only Aztec character who assumes any agency in Todorov’s account (1999: 100-102) is La Malinche, who from the perspective of Fanon and the oppressed, betrays her own people and helps bring about their ruin. In Todorov’s romanticized account of the non-West he points to the interaction between Self and Other as being essential towards saving the West’s own humanity. Simultaneously he denies that the Other should play any active role in this transformation and ignores the co-constitution of the global order that made modernity possible.

Todorov’s (1999:248-249) reproduction of the myth of the ‘noble savage’ and his argument that the spread of Western values stems from a superiority in the understanding of the Other indicates an ignorance of the co-constitution of the modern world but it also indicates the limited gaze that attempts to represent the Other from a position of power. In Todorov’s account the Other is never allowed to speak for himself. Todorov (1999: 54) claims this is because of his sources, but in the same moment dismisses it as trivial.  Despite Todorov’s claims to be proposing instead of imposing and that his account is more myth than history, his reconstruction of a myth that claims to understand our modern condition while leaving the native out would make Fanon’s words (2001: 61)“For the native, objectivity is always directed against him” ring true. Todorov’s moral testimony is one that requires the silence of the Other. From the view of the Other, Todorov’s philosophy is just another artificial sentinel turned to dust.

The Enlightenment, and even the beginnings of modernity that precede it, are intrinsically tied to the idea of empire. By ignoring the destructive power of capital and myth that is tied with logos Todorov underestimates the social, political and economic consequences of colonial modernity. Similarly in attempting to reconstruct a narrative that seeks to explain the Other while silencing the Other, Todorov reveals the limits of critiquing modernity from a philosophical position within modernity. But even Fanon’s radical anti-colonial position remains committed to a ‘modern’ project. Fanon’s belief that violence can be controlled by rational means in order to emancipate man into stage of humanity shows that we are all “heirs of Marx.” (Derrida, 2006: 91) The tempting promise of emancipation offered by modernity haunts both colonial and anti-colonial discourses. Instead I offer the words of Walter Benjamin: “This storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call progress.” (Benjamin, 2007: 248) These spectres of progress are not lost in the past but remain with us in our contemporary society today.Intervention and destruction is justified in the construction of the Other through Orientalism and Islamophobia, but it is tied to capitalism, the nation-state and a number of other political, social and economic institutions as well. If we truly wish to understand not only empire, but international relations itself we have to understand the political, social and economic institutions spawned by the co-constitution of colonial hierarchical relations that are an essential part of modernity as well as the nature of what it means to critique them.

The above article is been take from academia which i found interesting and sharing to my readers.

RHINOCEROS by Eugene Ionesco a modernist

RHINOCEROS

Eugène Ionesco

Key Facts

FULL TITLE ·  Rhinoceros                                                    

AUTHOR · Eugène Ionesco

TYPE OF WORK · Drama

GENRE · Absurdist drama/comedy

LANGUAGE · French

TIME AND PLACE WRITTEN · Paris, 1959

DATE OF FIRST PRODUCTION · Paris, 1960

PUBLISHER · Grove Press

NARRATOR · No narrator; drama

CLIMAX · The climax is delivered in the final line of the play, when Berenger decides to fight the rhinoceroses

PROTAGONIST · Berenger

ANTAGONIST · The rhinoceroses

SETTING (TIME) · Modern day

SETTING (PLACE) · A small town

POINT OF VIEW · As it is a play, there is no distinct point of view, but the audience sides with Berenger, the only person who sees through the rhinoceroses. However, Ionesco has the rhinoceroses grow more beautiful by the end to represent the changing perceptions of the remaining humans (such as Daisy), a fact that the audience cannot ignore.

FALLING ACTION · There is no falling action; the curtain closes on Berenger's climactic decision

TENSE · Play; present tense

FORESHADOWING · Berenger and Jean both show oppositions of character in relation to will (Berenger is more responsible and committed than one might think, Jean less so).

TONE · Absurdly comic, philosophical

THEMES · Will and responsibility; absurdity and logic; fascism

MOTIFS · Bourgeois alienation; escapism; harm/violence

SYMBOLS · Rhinoceroses

Context

Eugène Ionesco was one of the major figures in the Theatre of the Absurd, the French dramatic movement of the 1940s and 50s that emphasized the absurdity of the modern condition as defined by existential thinkers like Jean-Paul Sartre. The existentialists followed Soren Kierkegaard's dictum that "existence precedes essence"—that is, that man is born into the world without a purpose, and that he must commit himself to a cause for his life to have meaning. Absurdity and purposelessness frames Rhinoceros, which is a study of a single man's transformation, from apathy to responsibility, as the world around him descends into violence and greater levels of absurdity.

Born in Romania in 1912, Ionesco spent his childhood in Paris until his family returned to its homeland. Ionesco quickly developed a hatred for Romania's conservatism and anti-Semitism and, after winning an academic scholarship, returned to France in 1938 to write a thesis. There, he met anti-establishment writers such as Raymond Queneau. He lived in Marseille during World War II. His first play, The Bald Soprano (1950), a one-act piece that borrowed its phrasing from English language-instruction books, garnered little public attention but earned Ionesco respect among the Parisian avant-garde and helped inspire the Theatre of the Absurd.

Spearheaded by Samuel Beckett and other dramatists living in Paris, the Theatre of the Absurd emphasized the absurdity of a world that could not be explained by logic. The Absurdists' other major themes focused on alienation, the specter of death, and the bourgeois mores that, they felt, had displaced the significance of love and humanity in exchange for a diligent work ethic. In the character of Berenger, a semi-autobiographical persona who figures in several of Ionesco's plays, Ionesco portrays the modern man trapped in an office, engaged in shallow relationships, and escaping with alcohol from a world he does not understand. Yet this is all presented in the Theatre of the Absurd's characteristic morbid wit, an often self-conscious, comic sensibility that makes us laugh at the most horrific ideas—death, alienation, evil—in an effort to understand them.

Ionesco wrote a number of plays in the 50s, but it was not untilRhinoceros (first produced in 1960) that he received global attention. He called the play an anti-Nazi work, and it was performed just long enough after World War II for tensions to have settled down, but not so long that the almost visceral fear associated with fascism had dissipated. The debut of Rhinoceros had a reported fifty curtain calls in Germany. This is understandable; the play demonstrates how anyone can fall victim to collective, unconscious thought by allowing their wills to be manipulated by others. Walter Benjamin stated that one could not write poetry after the Holocaust, and though others have since refuted this as hyperbole, the world was indisputably damaged beyond repair and left searching for answers. Ionesco skirted the problem of trying to represent the Holocaust realistically by dressing his play in heavy but apparent symbolism. Through this indirect path, achievable only through the untamed techniques of the Theatre of the Absurd, he comes closer to answering the unanswerable questions left in the wake of fascist brutality.

Ionesco remained a prolific writer until the early 1980s, although none of his works, dramatic or critical, ever reached the same heights of tragedy and comprehension as Rhinoceros. His work has influenced playwrights as diverse as Harold Pinter and Sam Shepard. He died in 1994, but Rhinoceros is still performed across the world as a reminder of the human capacity for evil—when men consciously want to do evil, and, more frighteningly, when they unconsciously desire it.

Plot Overview

Rhinoceros begins in a small town square where Jean, an efficient, refined young man, meets his semi-alcoholic and fully apathetic friend, Berenger, for a drink. Jean upbraids Berenger for his drinking habits and his aimlessness. Soon, a rhinoceros runs through the square (off-stage), shocking all the townspeople with the exception of the indifferent Berenger. Jean lectures Berenger about will-power while a rational Logician explains the concept of a syllogism to an old man. Berenger concedes that he has a crush on Daisy, a typist at his office, but worries that she favors Dudard, an up-and-coming co-worker. Jean recommends will-power and cultural self- improvement to garner Daisy's affections, and to improve his life in general. Another rhino rushes by and tramples a cat. The townspeople debate whether or not it was the same rhino and what breed it was. Berenger and Jean get in a fight over the physical specifics of the rhino, and Jean storms off after calling Berenger a drunkard. The townspeople ask the Logician to clear up confusion, but his lengthy analysis makes no progress. The townspeople vow to stop the rhinos. Berenger expresses remorse for fighting with Jean, then says he's too upset to culture himself as planned and instead drinks.

In Berenger's office, the co-workers argue with Botard, an old skeptic who doesn't believe in the rhinos. Berenger arrives late, but Daisy sneaks him in. The employees ask Berenger if he saw the rhino. Botard claims the illusory appearance of the rhino is an example of "collective psychosis." They return to work, proof-reading law proposals, and wonder where co-worker Mr. Boeuf is. Mrs. Boeuf rushes in and says her husband is sick and will be back in a few days. She tells them that she was just chased by a rhino, which is now downstairs. The rhino crushes the staircase it tries to ascend, stranding the workers. Mrs. Boeuf recognizes the rhino as her husband. Daisy telephones the fire station to rescue them. The men give Mrs. Boeuf practical advice for dealing with this setback, but she is too devoted to her rhino-husband and vows to stay with him. She jumps down to the ground floor and (off-stage) rides off on his back. More rhinos are reported in the town. The firemen arrive to help them out the window. Botard vows he'll solve the rhino-riddle. Berenger passes on an offer to drink with Dudard so he can visit Jean.

Jean coughs in bed at home. Berenger visits and apologizes for their argument the previous day. At first, Jean has no recollection at all about the rhinoceroses. Jean's voice grows more hoarse, a bump on his nose continues to grow, and his skin gets greener by the moment. He becomes more misanthropic and savage. Berenger informs him of Mr. Boeuf's transformation, which Jean applauds. He moves in and out of the bathroom, each time appearing and sounding more like a rhino. He pronounces humanism dead, sheds his itchy clothes, tries to run down Berenger, apologizes, and runs into the bathroom. Berenger is about to escape, but follows Jean into the bathroom to help him. Off-stage in the bathroom, Jean attacks Berenger. Berenger escapes and closes the bathroom door behind him (but is pierced by a rhino horn) as Jean, now a full-blown rhino, tries to break free. Berenger alerts the tenants in the building to the rhino's presence in the building, but everyone else has transformed as well. Berenger looks out the window, where a herd of rhinos march. The bathroom door is on the verge of breaking. Berenger throws himself against the wall and breaks through it. He runs through the street, yelling "Rhinoceros!"

Berenger wakes up from a nightmare in his room and inspects himself for any impending rhino-signs. Still human, he struggles not to drink, but eventually does. Dudard visits and they discuss Jean's transformation, which Berenger feels guilty about. They discuss the metamorphoses as an epidemic. Berenger takes another drink, under the premise that alcohol is an immunization. Dudard urges Berenger not to feel too guilty. Dudard reveals that Papillon, their boss, has turned into a rhinoceros. Berenger believes that for a man of Papillon's human stature to change, it must have been involuntary. Dudard considers the metamorphoses natural, while Berenger continues to find them abnormal. The flustered Berenger says he will seek the Logician's services in clearing this up. A herd of rhinos passes and Berenger spots the Logician's hat on a rhinoceros, a sign of metamorphosis, and vows not to become one as well.

Daisy visits Berenger, which makes Dudard jealous. Daisy appears not to care too deeply about the epidemic. She informs them that Botard has metamorphosed. Berenger can't believe it, but then later rationalizes it. Daisy and Dudard iterate that acclimating oneself to the rhinos is the best solution, but Berenger resists. They start to have lunch, but are interrupted by a crumbling wall outside. The fire station has been sacked, and the firemen have turned into rhinos. Dudard leaves; he wants to experience the epidemic first-hand. Berenger tries to stop him, but Daisy lets him go. Dudard soon turns into a rhino outside. The sights and sounds of the rhinos become more beautiful despite their savagery. Berenger laments Dudard's demise, and Daisy reminds Berenger that they have no right to interfere in other's lives. She pours some brandy for Berenger and removes his bandage—still no signs of a transformation. Berenger claims he will defend her. He blames himself and Daisy for contributing, through lack of sympathy, to the transformations of Jean and Papillon, respectively. Daisy convinces him to shrug off the guilt. The phone rings, but they hear only rhino trumpeting on the line. They turn to the radio for help, but the rhinos have taken that over, as well.

Upstairs, a rhino stampede disrupts the house's foundations. Daisy believes they must adapt to their new neighbors, but Berenger proposes they regenerate the human race, like Adam and Eve. Daisy finds the power of the rhinos seductive. Berenger slaps her, then apologizes and declares that he'll never surrender and that he will protect her. She pledges her loyalty to him. The noise of the rhinos becomes more musical to Daisy, though Berenger still finds it savage and argues with her. Daisy breaks up with him and leaves. Berenger barricades his room and plugs his ears. He doubts his own humanity. He inspects photographs and cannot recognize any of his former friends—but he does identify himself and hangs three of his pictures on the wall beside the rhino heads. They turn out to be pictures of unattractive people and, compared to the elegant rhino heads, are even more grotesque. He envies the bodies of the rhinos, but at the brink of desperation, he nevertheless decides that he will fight the rhinos.

Analysis of Major Characters

Berenger

Berenger's transformation is the true metamorphosis in Rhinoceros.While the other characters physically turn into rhinoceroses, embodying the savage natures they had formerly repressed, Berenger's change is moral and completely opposite from his position at the start of the play. He begins as an aimless, alienated Everyman who drinks too much and who finds little worth in life, except for the beauty of Daisy, his co-worker. He is bored by his work, too lazy to culture himself, and wonders if life is a dream—that is, if its absurdity is the product of a dream-like state of absurd logic, and if life, like a dream, is controlled by unconscious desires. Despite his escapism through alcohol, he holds on tightly to his human identity, never comprehending why someone would want to be anyone else. While his passivity is the underlying cause of the metamorphoses, helping promote the climate of irresponsibility and indifference, it is his recognition of life as an absurdity that prompts him to change his character, rather than accept the presence of the rhinos. Yet he remains indecisive nearly to the very end, losing his faith in humanity and finding the rhinoceroses beautiful. In the last line of the play, however, he overturns his weak will and lack of responsibility by deciding to save humanity against the tyranny of the rhinos.

Berenger's decision, however, is not totally unforeseen. His love of Daisy, as mentioned above, reveals he has emotional desires for another human. At one point, when it seems to him that he and Daisy will be united at the expense of their co-worker Dudard's departure and metamorphosis, Berenger exclaims "Happiness is such an egotistical thing!" Yet his desires turn out not to be so self-centered. Even when Daisy abandons him to become a rhino, and when other friends insult him and do the same, he feels guilty for pushing them out, although they would have metamorphosed without him. He does not love Daisy alone; he loves humanity, and is willing to take responsibility for its fate. This "will" of responsibility, rather than the will of power the other characters treasure, is what ultimately galvanizes Berenger's final line of resistance, "I'm not capitulating!"

Jean

Jean epitomizes the Nietzschean conception of the "super-man" who is above morality. He believes in the strength of his will and rationalist intellect. His arrogance and unspoken disdain for the common man, especially for Berenger's lackadaisical attitude toward life, foreshadows his metamorphosis into a savage, vicious rhinoceros. As the most fleshed-out character who transforms into a rhino, he symbolizes the Nietzschean "will to power" of the fascist rhinos, their use of strength and will to circumvent morality and return to a primal state of nature. Yet Jean is ridden with hypocrisies and contradictions. He shows himself from the start to be as irresponsible as Berenger, showing up late to their meeting and refusing a day of culture to nap and drink. In fact, his appreciation for self-improvement seems to stem from his view of education as cultural capital, and not as an exploration of his humanity. He always rationalizes these lapses after the fact, drawing on his vast reserves of logic to skew the discussion. When Jean vows, as a rhino, that he will trample Berenger and anyone who gets in his way, it is clear that his transformation was a mere exchange of bodies, and not of morality.

Rhinoceroses

Though they are not human characters, and they never appear on-stage in full form, the projections of rhino heads and off-stage trumpeting dominates the play. The rhinoceroses stand, above all, for man's latent savagery and capacity for violence. The rhinos themselves are not to blame; they are generally a solitary species, as Berenger notes, but the collective consciousness of man and the tendency toward safety in numbers turns them into a hostile, totalitarian herd reminiscent of Nazis. Nevertheless, Ionesco makes sure to flesh out the rhinoceroses' characterizations. When Mr. Boeuf turns into a rhino, he trumpets tenderly to his wife, who can recognize her husband through his green skin. Not all of Boeuf's humanity is lost, and it appears that the individual man affects the characteristics of the rhino he becomes. To nuance their depictions even more, Ionesco has the rhinos become more beautiful and majestic as the play progresses until, by the end of the play, they outshine the ugliness of humanity. This technique makes the audience see how one's individual perceptions can be altered by mass opinion, how the savage, destructive rhinos, much like the Nazis, could be seductive to someone who doubts his own strength and will.

Logician

Although he appears only in the first act, the Logician, as his name suggests, represents the other rationalist characters (Jean, Botard, Dudard) and one of the underlying premises of the play and existentialist philosophy, that logic cannot explain everything. In fact, Ionesco severely mocks the Logician's circular, comic train of thought, which focuses on all the wrong questions and ends up with completely incorrect answers or answers that re-pose the original question. We must recognize the universe as absurd and nonsensical, Ionesco believes, in order to take any meaning from it; the Logician and other characters resist this, though they often succeed only in proving themselves absurd.

Daisy

Daisy appears as if she, along with Berenger, cares deeply about humanity, but she continually urges Berenger to acclimate himself and not to feel guilty about the rhinoceroses. Her love for him appears as an ephemeral desire that flickers on and off, and in the end love for only one person does not necessarily make one into a truly loving person. In order to commit one's life to something outside oneself, as the existentialists were concerned with, one must love all humanity. Daisy's constant avoidance of responsibility and her lack of concern for her fellow man reveals her desires for Berenger as selfish despite the good intentions she often has for him (she tries to limit his alcohol intake, for instance, and wants to assuage his guilt to make him happier). Understandably, she is seduced by the beauty and power of the rhinos, something that offers her greater pleasure than the "weakness" of human love, as she puts it. Her final betrayal of Berenger in joining the rhinos incites his dramatic decision to save humanity; it is his love for her (and the loss of it) that makes him feel guilty and responsible and which allows him to see how much he loves humanity, and not a single person, after all.

Themes

Will and Responsibility

The transformation of Berenger from an apathetic, alcoholic, and ennui- ridden man into the savior of humanity constitutes the major theme of Rhinoceros, and the major existential struggle: one must commit oneself to a significant cause in order to give life meaning. Jean continually exhorts Berenger to exercise more will-power and not surrender to life's pressures, and other characters, such as Dudard, seem to do just that as they control their own destinies. Berenger does not have great conventional will-power, as demonstrated by his frequent recourse to alcohol and his tendency to dream (both daydreams and nightmares). However, he maintains a steadfast, latent sense of responsibility after Act One, often feeling guilty for the various rhinoceros-metamorphoses around him—in a sense, his initial apathy was the cause, helping promote a climate of indifference and irresponsibility. Furthermore, he shows early on that he at least cares about Daisy, the only evidence in the play, other than Mrs. Boeuf's devotion to Mr. Boeuf, of sincere love for another human. By Act Three, his powerful guilt and sense of responsibility indicates that Berenger practices the most selfless kind of love—unconditional love for all humanity, whereby he is concerned for the welfare even of those who have scorned him. This all-encompassing love is what gives his life meaning.

The supposedly strong characters, like Jean, fail the ultimate test of will- power, the rhino-epidemic, and their crumbling wills are foreshadowed by their subtler evasions of responsibility—Daisy, for instance, wants to live a guiltless life. Their idea of will borrows from Friedrich Nietzsche's concept of "the will to power." For them, will is a means to metamorphose into Nietzsche's "super-man," a powerful being beyond human morality. The savagery of the rhinos, and Jean's transformation and statements in Act Two, exemplify this desire for power. He becomes violent, claims humanism is dead, and tries to trample Berenger. The play's final irony is that Berenger becomes the true super-man, gathering his resources of will, built on a foundation of love for his fellow man, to take responsibility for humanity.

Logic and Absurdity

Rhinoceros exposes the limitations of logic, and absurdity reigns as the dominating force in the universe. Self-proclaimed rational characters, such as the Logician, Botard, and Jean, either flounder in their proofs (the Logician, especially) or ridiculously rationalize their incorrect presumptions—consider Botard's accusation of a conspiracy in Act Two. The Logician's attempts to uncover how many rhinoceroses there were in the first act, and what breeds they were, results only in re-posing the original question. In Act One, Berenger calls Jean's ideas "nonsense," and this word resonates throughoutRhinoceros. The world is nonsensical, absurd, and defies the extent of logic. As Berenger says, if one were to read about the rhinoceros events in a newspaper, away from the action, one could be rational and detached, but in the midst of things one can't help getting involved. The balance between detached distance and intimate confusion divides the supposedly logical characters from Berenger. They maintain their logical distance until confronted with a real problem, when their logic implodes. Berenger concedes absurdity from the outset—"life is a dream," he says, alluding to the inexplicable randomness around him—and this enables him to understand the absurdity of the metamorphoses better, even though he never arrives at a logical "solution." Recognizing the world as absurd, Ionesco suggests, is the first step in cobbling together a meaningful life.

Fascism

The "epidemic" of the rhinoceroses serves as a convenient allegory for the mass uprising of Nazism and fascism before and during World War II. Ionesco's main reason for writing Rhinoceros is not simply to criticize the horrors of Nazis, but to explore the mentality of those who so easily succumbed to Nazism. A universal consciousness that subverts individual free thought and will defines this mentality; in other words, people get rolled up in the snowball of general opinion around them, and they start thinking what others are thinking. In the play, people repeat ideas others have said earlier, or simultaneously say the same things. Once other people, especially authority figures, collapse in the play, the remaining humans find it even easier to justify why the metamorphoses are desirable. Ionesco is careful not to make his play a one-sided critique of the brutality of Nazism. The rhinos become more beautiful as the play progresses until they overshadow the ugliness of humanity, and the audience is forced to recognize that an impressionable individual might have similarly perceived the swelling ranks of Nazis as superior. In fact, Dudard's desire to join the "universal family" of the rhinos points to the notion of the rhinos as an Aryan master race, physically superior to the rest of humanity. Nevertheless, they are still morally repugnant, escalating their violence over the course of the play. Ionesco carefully traces an argument against John Stuart Mill's "harm principle," which states that individual freedom should be preserved so long as it does not harm anyone else. Ionesco demonstrates that passively allowing the rhinos to go on—or, allegorically, turning a blind eye to fascism, as individual citizens and entire countries did in the 1930s—is as harmful as direct violence.

Motifs

Theatre of the Absurd

In the tradition of Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot, Jean-Paul Sartre's No Exit, and Harold Pinter's plays, Ionesco's drama combines abstract philosophical ideas with concrete humor. The various rationalizations that characters come up with to explain their previous errors delight us with their silliness, but they also suggest deeper ideas about logic and responsibility. As many of the plays from the Theatre of the Absurd go, Rhinoceros is conscious of itself as a play, as when Jean suggests Berenger sees one of Ionesco's plays, but more so in the ways that it forces the audience to recognize the production before them as a play and not as a diversion. A production with back-lit rhinoceros heads stakes no claim to the typical drama's attempts to suspend the audience's disbelief, but this is the point: Ionesco breaks the "fourth wall" of the theater (and numerous other walls and structures explode in the play) to make the audience leave the theater feeling that the absurdity they witnessed was somehow more real than a "realistic" play.

Bourgeois life

Ionesco makes a number of critiques of the emptiness of the bourgeois working world. The root of Berenger's apathy seems to spring from his boring job, and Act Two presents us with the drudgery of his office, its repetitive work, and its shallow relationships built to serve the corporation. Jean recommends that Berenger improve his cultural vocabulary, but Jean's appreciation for the avant- garde theater, for instance, is clearly only a surface interest or he would not succumb so easily to the rhinoceroses. Berenger's reliance upon alcohol is understandable—the ennui of daily life is too great not to escape. In fact, the escapism of alcohol is a trope for the escapism of the metamorphoses; both Berenger and the others feel they regain their lost identities in their respective escapes. The others, then, are similarly oppressed by their jobs (Jean feels it is something one must get used to), though Berenger seems to be the only one who has a deeper awareness of the way bourgeois life crushes his spirit.

Symbols

Rhinoceroses

The rhinoceroses are a blunt symbol of man's inherent savage nature but, to Ionesco's credit, the articulation of this idea deploys slowly throughout the play: the first rhino causes no apparent damage; the second one tramples a cat; later ones destroy more property and Jean-as-rhinoceros attacks Berenger. They represent both fascist tyranny and the absurdity of a universe that could produce such metamorphoses. These ideas crystallize into one question: how could humans be this savage, allowing the barbarity of World War II Nazism? Ionesco answers this in a variety of ways. He equates the epidemic of the metamorphoses with the ways the ideals of Nazism can infect the unconscious minds of individuals. Yet the rhinos become more beautiful and humans more ugly by the end of the play. They are beautiful, however, because of their brute strength and power; true beauty, as Berenger demonstrates when he finally decides to fight the rhinos and save humanity, lies in moral strength.

Important Quotations Explained

"I sometimes wonder if I exist myself."

Berenger's statement in Act One expresses existential doubt and counters the well-known philosophical premise of 17th-century philosopher Rene Descartes, considered a cornerstone of Western philosophy. Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am," or, in other words, the ability to think is the only proof of existence. Berenger's thinking that he may not exist articulates the foundation of existentialist philosophy, the formula "existence precedes essence," which states that humans are born ("existence") before they gain any soul or meaning in life ("essence"). However, for Berenger, neither physical nor mental existence is enough to count for true existence; he needs a life committed to something significant. His overriding love for humanity and decision to save them constitutes his essence.

"There are certain things which enter the minds of even people without one."

Jean's insult to Berenger in Act One helps explain, in a different context, how millions were swayed to fascism. Ionesco builds up a concept of collective consciousness (later referred to in the play as "collective psychosis"), a universal mentality that compromises the individual mind. These minds, like Berenger's, evade responsibility and choice and allow external ideas to enter without an internal check. After World War II, people were wondering how the widespread fascist atrocities could have taken place, how such brutal ideas could have engaged humanity. Ionesco's play attempts to posit an answer, pinning the blame less on man's tendency to evil than his tendency not to think for himself.

"So then logically speaking, my dog must be a cat?"

"Logically, yes. But the contrary is also true."

This exchange comes at the end of the Logician's syllogism-tutorial of the Old Gentleman in Act One. In a world in which the atrocities of fascism can take place, Ionesco classifies the logic that orders the universe as absurd and inexplicable, beyond human rationality. The Logician is mercilessly parodied for his comic missteps in proving even a simple syllogism, as here, or when he unsuccessfully tries to explain why the rhinoceroses are appearing. In this scene, Ionesco demonstrates the inapplicability of logic to human emotion as he parallels the Logician's incoherent proof with Berenger's attempts to provide some rational reason for his unhappiness./EXPLANATION

"When you're involved yourself…you can't help feeling directly concerned."

To answer why other countries, such as the US, failed to react swiftly to Nazi atrocities, Ionesco reminds us that when one is not in the midst of conflict, it is easy to be a detached observer. Only through his position in a world of overt absurdity does Berenger (in Act Three) begin to acknowledge the necessity to commit to a life of significance. Berenger's prior apathy towards life did contribute to the overall lack of will that made the epidemic possible. Yet it is this original indifference, combined with his awareness of the absurd universe, which galvanizes his own metamorphosis into a being committed to free will.

"I'm not capitulating!"

These words of Berenger's close the curtain on the play, and fully transform his character from being indifferent and alienated to committed and humane. His will wavers many times after Daisy leaves (shortly before this quote), and he seems on the verge of joining the rhinos. But his will, which was foreshadowed as strongly committed to individualism and humanity despite its conventional weaknesses (his propensity to drink, his apathy towards his job, his lateness), comes through in the end. Some may read this as an ambiguous ending, since Berenger might simply change his mind again after the curtain closes, but the optimistic note the play ends on reinforces the idea that, in an absurd world, we must commit ourselves to something significant to lend meaning to the absurdity.

Study Questions and Essay Topics

Study Questions

What do the various contradictions of the characters say about them, and about the world of Rhinoceros? Consider Berenger and Jean, for example.

Despite being foils, Berenger and Jean seem to trade places often throughout the play. After Jean counsels Berenger on how to lead a better life, Berenger asks Jean to accompany him to the museum and a play, but Jean declines because he is going to take a nap and has to meet a friend for a drink. While he rationalizes his decisions as mere lapses, it is clear that Jean's resolve is not as powerful as he would like others to believe. Rather, he exercises his will only when it can gain him power, and not when it asserts his individual humanity; his appreciation for culture, it seems, is only an exercise in self-improvement in order to gain power. Berenger, on the other hand, appears totally passive and apathetic at first, but he shows hints of commitment and responsibility even early on: he loves Daisy; he visits Jean to apologize for their fight; he tries to resist alcohol (though he usually fails). At the very least, he is always aware of his escapist tendencies. While contradictions are an inherent part of any complex literary (and real-life) character, in Ionesco's play these contradictions can be characterized as absurd. Berenger, for instance, defies his strong individualist stance by parroting the exact language of others to indicate that he, too, is a victim of either collective consciousness or of absurd coincidence.

Do the rhinoceroses maintain their human identities, or are they strictly savage beasts?

The first rhinoceros about whom we have some knowledge is Mr. Boeuf. He trumpets tenderly to Mrs. Boeuf upstairs in the office and tries to reach her. She recognizes him, showing that not all his humanity is gone. Her love and devotion is so strong, even, that she resists practical advice about insurance and a divorce and jumps on her husband's back. The Boeufs are clearly an exception; their relationship is the only evidence of true love and commitment to one other person in the play. Later, Berenger, Daisy, and Dudard discuss the problem of how to dispatch with the rhinos when they include former loved ones and relatives. It is clear that others have devolved into far more violent creatures; the rhino-personality is what they make of it. Jean epitomizes this. His irascible temper, desire for power, and misanthropy manifest themselves in a wild, harmful rhino that tries to mow down Berenger. Yet the rhinos later develop into beautiful, melodic creatures, as Ionesco tries to make the audience see how one's judgment can be altered by public perception.

Discuss Ionesco's dramatic techniques of repetition and parallelism.

At many points in the play, a number of characters say the same thing either simultaneously or nearly simultaneously, such as "Oh, a rhinoceros!" or "Well, of all things!" Characters often echo previous dialogue, as well. These repetitions are indications of a collective consciousness at work, and of the triviality of everyday language and emotion. No one seems too be disrupted by the appearance of a rhinoceros, so they remark on it with appropriate levels of disinterest. Ionesco also stages two separate dialogues at the same time, most prominently in the first act, when Jean tutors Berenger and the Logician tutors the Old Man. While the dialogue does not exactly match up, each set (the tutor or student) speaks about similar topics. The Logician's atrocious mishandling of logic shadows the incompatibility of logic with human emotion and alienation in Berenger's conversation.

Trace the progression of harm and violence in the play and the characters' reactions to it. Use John Stuart Mill's "harm principle" from On Liberty as a starting point (the harm principle states that individual freedom should be preserved so long as it does not directly harm anyone else).

What is the function of Ionesco's use of comedy? Does it distract us from the idea at hand, or call more attention to it?

No full-blown rhinoceroses appear directly on-stage. Aside from the physical difficulties this would present, why does Ionesco refrain from showing us what an actual rhino looks like?

Daisy says that you can only predict something once it has happened. Many characters in the play make incorrect assumptions, and then rationalize these after they have been disproved. Discuss the implications of these retroactive "predictions."

What is Ionesco's take on the workplace? How does this influence the rest of the play?

The Theatre of the Absurd is a term for a distinct style of drama written largely by European playwrights in the 1940s–1960s, though it has become something of a tradition that lives on. On the whole, the Theatre of the Absurd rebelled against theatrical traditions and expressed a confusing, seemingly meaningless world where people encounter bizarre or absurd circumstances. It changed the way comedy was expressed in the theatrical tradition, often combining broad comedy with horrific situations to produce tragicomedy in the line of, say, Shakespeare, the Marx Brothers, and Charlie Chaplin. Arguably, the Theatre of the Absurd found a way to hit the audience hard with both the tragedy and the comedy, discomforting the audience and withholding the catharsis.

English critic Martin Esslin coined the term in his 1961 book Theatre of the Absurd, and the style came to be associated with such playwrights as Eugène Ionesco, Arthur Adamov, Jean Genet, and Samuel Beckett. Other playwrights came to be known as “absurdist,” including Edward Albee, Jean Tardieu, and Tom Stoppard. Although each one unquestionably maintains a distinct voice and theatrical style, their collective work shares particular concerns.

Although critics consider the Theatre of the Absurd separate from existentialism, the two movements (if one can call them that) share a concern with a philosophical understanding of the purpose of life and what meaning (if any) life might have. The absurdist plays employ nonsense to suggest such fundamental questions in surprising, unusual ways. Most of the time, most people are not living in the horrific circumstances of, say, the world wars, and they go about their normal lives without confronting the fundamental questions very often. The absurdist plays often shake us up and tend to remind individuals of our strange isolation despite our being surrounded by society and culture.

In Ionesco’s Rhinoceros, for example, what begins as a humorous phenomenon of men turning into rhinoceroses becomes unsettling, even horrifying, as every human being (save one) turns into a vicious animal. In traditional comedies or tragedies, the audience stays in the mood or laughing or crying. But Rhinoceros and other absurdist works leave the audience hovering somewhere in between, more alert to the strange complexity of life but not sure what to do or to think about it.

The Theatre of the Absurd also rejects traditional plot structures, following an artistic trend in the early 20th century (even though untraditional plot structures were not new in that generation). Theatre of the Absurd further confuses the audience by reveling in the idea of nonsense. The movement is often linked to Dadaism, a cultural movement that developed in Europe after World War I and celebrated chaos and irrationality. The absurdist playwrights reveal similar concerns as they develop characters who are often lost in incomprehensible worlds. Scenes often repeat (as in Ionesco’s Bald Soprano), and often the language repeats (as in his Rhinoceros).

Many works also center around unresolved mysteries or the idea of nothingness itself. In Ionesco’s The Chairs, for example, an elderly couple throws a party in their house for guests who are invisible to the audience. In Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, two characters spend an entire play waiting for someone to arrive–but he never does. Without the traditional dramatic techniques that depend on a plot in forward motion, a play can hardly survive, so the plays do have at least some direction and connections. Even so, the absurdist plays confuse the audience by destroying most of the basic theatrical expectations.

Although absurdist elements continue to arise in modern theatre, critics tend to tie the first generation of such plays together as a movement in a particular time and place. Centered in Paris and generally concluded by 1970, the movement was a remarkably innovative period of theatre when playwrights discomforted their audiences, dismantled traditions, and deconstructed their own form of art. While the atrocities of the world wars and the anxiety of the Cold War have been fading in Western memory, the issues of understanding and meaning that humans face are no less critical.