Universiteit van Amsterdam
Facing Uncertainty and Overcoming Anxiety
Max Brooks’ World War Z through a Dystopian Lens
Ian Pocervina 12086738
Graduate School of Humanities MA English Literature and Culture
Dr Nicholas Carr 28 June 2019
Statement of Originality
This document was written by Ian Pocervina who declares to take full responsibility for the contents of this document.
I declare that the text and the work presented in this document are original and that no
sources other than those mentioned in the text and its references have been used in creating it. The Faculty of Humanities is responsible solely for the supervision of completion of the work, not for the contents.
Acknowledgements
I would first like to thank my family for the love and support they have shown me since the beginning of my academic career. I would not have gotten this far without their help, for which I am very grateful.
I would also like to thank my two flatmates, Megan and Lara, who gave me a lovely home in Amsterdam and on more than one occasion helped me see through the mist of my own ideas.
Furthermore, I would like to thank two people that have done nothing other than encourage me to live up to my potential and challenge my own limitations. To you, Steve and Bryan, I owe the discipline and drive that have made me who I am today.
Finally, I would like to thank Dr Nicholas Carr and the University of Amsterdam for the supervision and guidance during my studies and the development of this thesis.
Abstract
Through the analysis of the concept of dystopia, this thesis provides insights into the all-encompassing theme of uncertainty in Max Brooks’ World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War. The theoretical section establishes a connection between the fictional dystopian environment and the significant events of the real world that shaped the creation of the text. By conceptualizing the zombie as an anxiety-provoking figure, the analysis of the novel aims at delineating the psychological developments of the characters recounting past events in the personal interviews. This thesis therefore presents and employs a selection of psychological concepts and philosophical ideas to explore the representative dimensions of uncertainty-related anxiety within the narrative structure of Brooks’ text. The individual stories of the novel focus on the actions and decisions that characters took while being confronted with the unimaginable zombie threat and thus depict the successful adaptation process that
Contents
1. Introduction ...1
2. Conceptualizing Dystopia in the 21st Century ...3
2.1 Framework and Characteristics ...4
2.2 Contemporary Reception ...7
3. The Zombie Metaphor ...12
3.1 Uncertainty ...13 3.2 Anxiety ...17 4. Textual Analysis ...21 4.1 Invitation ...21 4.2 Resilient Characters ...25 5. Conclusion ...54 6. Works Cited ...56
1. Introduction
The past decade has seen a renewed interest in the zombie narrative. Be it on the large or small screen, in video games or in graphic novels, the idea of the rising dead is inescapable. Within this renaissance of the zombie narrative, Max Brooks published World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War1 (2006) and attached to it society’s worst nightmare. By
constructing the narrative as a collection of personal interviews conducted with the survivors of the global conflict, Brooks approaches the theme of a fictional zombie apocalypse and its implications from a relatable perspective. Seven years later, the New York Times bestseller was turned into a movie, which, apart from the title, bares little resemblance to the original text. Nevertheless, both products engaged a diverse range of audiences, proving the
noteworthy popularity of the dystopian narrative.
Since the early days of the dystopian genre, authors have sought to construct
alternative sociocultural realities in order to express their concerns about the mechanisms of the real world. These texts therefore embody cultural products that can be examined to understand contemporary views and problems. In the case of WWZ, the author addresses a number of different themes in a critical manner. Accordingly, academic discussions concerned with the novel focus on a variety of topics, such as global risk and security management, or the educational potential of the text in the geopolitical sphere. For the purpose of this thesis, I have decided to use the dystopian angle to generate insights into the overarching theme of uncertainty. My aim is to investigate the portrayal of uncertainty-related anxiety in the fictional collection of personal interviews presented to the reader. The oral history reflects the dystopian past and the consequences of facing the unimaginable yet
inescapable zombie threat. Through the course of the novel, each individual recounts
situations of grave uncertainty that lead him or her into states of deep anxiety. As survivors of the war, they later learned to evaluate their own psychological development, which had allowed them to face their environment and prevail in a world filled with potential dangers. The analysis of the novel will therefore focus on the decisions and actions that allowed its characters to overcome the uncertainty that accompanied the zombie apocalypse.
The thesis will first explore the specific narrative qualities that define the dystopian stream, thus providing useful tools for the analysis of the novel under this specific angle. The chapter on the literary genre will additionally conceptualize dystopia in relation to the historic and sociocultural reality of the 21st Century. The second theoretical section will then
elaborate on the interpretation of the zombie metaphor as a symbol of uncertainty. To demonstrate the challenges that accompany states of anxiety in the novel, I will present a selection of academic literature from the fields of psychology and philosophy. The concepts and ideas found in these texts will subsequently be employed in the analysis of WWZ.
2. Conceptualizing Dystopia in the 21st Century
In the case of WWZ, it is an intricate matter to raise the question of genre classification. Brooks’ apocalyptic world is constructed with a variety of literary tools that can be associated with fields such as horror and science fiction. For the purpose of this thesis, I will approach the novel from a dystopian angle, thus allowing an interpretation of the text within a larger, sociocultural framework, renowned for its practice of “genre blurring” (Moylan 189). Put differently, evidence suggests that the dystopian stream is not subject to uncompromising formal boundaries and therefore benefits from the use of strategies from different genres. In that sense, the chosen procedure will subsequently allocate a metaphorical meaning to the text’s supernatural elements and their influence on the dystopian setting.
However, dystopia cannot be understood by itself. The dependence and connection to the superordinate concept of utopia is unanimously acknowledged within the respective academic field. To avoid any confusion about terminology as well as understanding of the matter, I will adopt a framework proposed by Lyman T. Sargent.2 In an attempt to unite the various different schools of thought under an umbrella term, the utopian scholar defines “utopianism” (9) as a multifaceted phenomenon that also includes and explains the dystopian mode. The theoretical concepts will then be complemented by an evaluation of dystopian narratives in the 21st Century and their role in our contemporary sociocultural context. This methodology is chosen to situate WWZ within a literary tradition, while also placing it within a specific historic context.
2 Lyman Tower Sargent is a professor emeritus at the University of Missouri–St. Louis and founding editor of
2.1 Framework and Characteristics
According to Sargent, the concept of utopianism can be found in the social sphere and formulates an aspirational fantasy of a more progressive space for humanity: “I define the broad, general phenomenon of utopianism as social dreaming – the dreams and nightmares that concern the ways in which groups of people arrange their lives and which usually envision a radically different society than the one in which the dreamers live” (3). It is notable that this definition offers a simple yet constructive solution to the problem of
connecting dystopian and utopian modes of thinking. They can be understood as two sides of the same coin, one being a dream, the other a nightmare. Sargent’s utopianism includes further research into the social and political implications of the concept (4), nonetheless, the focus of this chapter will remain on the characteristics of utopian literature.
Literary scholarship unanimously identifies Plato’s Republic and Sir Thomas More’s Utopia as the some of the earliest and most formative texts of utopian thought (Hansot 5), albeit that older precursors of the genre can be singled out (Sargent 10). More remains the most prominent author, due to the fact that the developing genre received its name from his imaginary country. In this context, it is worth mentioning that the term ‘utopia’ itself is coined by an ambiguity of meaning. Brian Stableford elaborates: “More’s Utopia is not really an ideal society, ... but the word was eventually coopted as a generic title for images of social perfection, as if it were derived from the Greek eutopos (‘better place’) rather than outopos (‘nowhere’)” (481). Thus, the signified of utopia has notably shifted, even though the element of fiction remains unchanged: “All fiction describes a no place; utopian fiction generally describes good or bad no places” (Sargent 5). According to Sargent’s model, utopias are not constructed to reflect societal perfection (9), but to stand in opposition to the contemporary
reality (5). Stableford’s outline of utopian and dystopian fiction supports this notion, highlighting the various phases of utopianism and how they always relate to their time, as well as their authors’ belief systems.3 The followers of the philosophy allocate a sense of liberation to the utopian pursuit. Sargent describes the productive potential of the genre as follows: “Utopia caters to our ability to ... recognize that things are not quite what they should be, and to assert that improvement is possible. The dystopian is stating that things could get worse unless we act, and most utopias suggest that whether life gets better or worse depends on the choices made by people exercising their freedom” (26). It can be asserted that while utopias generally construct a world to address either flaws or strengths of current societies, responsibility is placed upon individuals to initiate change and move the
community forward. As my analysis of WWZ will focus on the characters’ responses to their dystopian environment, I will now turn to the specific mechanics of this nightmarish fiction. The most dominant phase for dystopian narratives originated from the horrors of the 20th Century. More than ever, authors rejected hope:
The catalogue of the twentieth century has been read as nothing but failure – World Wars I and II, ... the apparent failure of the welfare state, ecological disaster,
corruption, and now the upsurge of ethnic and tribal slaughter in Eastern Europe and Africa. Not surprisingly this has led to pessimism about the ability of the human race to achieve a better society, and the dystopia – warning that things could even get worse – became the dominant utopian form. (Sargent 26)
It follows that dystopia is bound to the same pattern as most of the works associated with utopianism; they react to societal changes and events that occur in the real world. Brian Stableford thus relates the earliest British dystopias to the ‘euchronian’ phase of utopianism,
3 Stableford gives an example for such a school of thought: “Utopian thought in the eupsychian vein supposes
that a sane society can only be constructed from the clay of sane individuals and that the seeds of utopia can be brought to flower through the psychological transformation of individuals” (483). As will be demonstrated in the final analysis of WWZ, the idea of psychological transformation has prevailed.
which endorsed technological progress (481), and calls Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We a “product of postrevolutionary disenchantment in the USSR” (483). The rejection of hope is important to highlight, as this idea fosters a divide within the dystopian stream itself. While some authors use their texts to capture the inescapable nightmares perceived in reality without compromise, others prefer to encode a warning or glimmer of hope in their creations. For purposes of clarification, I will borrow the words of Lyman Sargent one final time: “Some dystopias are deeply pessimistic ... But many dystopias are self-consciously warnings. A warning implies that choice, and therefore hope, are still possible” (26). Tom Moylan identifies this problem of attitude as a dichotomy of either utopian or anti-utopian stance (147). In his Scraps of the Untainted Sky, the American-Irish academic offers further insight on the specifics of dystopian narratives, a few of which I want to highlight hereafter.
Moylan agrees with the general assumption that dystopias embody thought
experiments, same as the utopian texts do (128). The dividing element between both streams, according to his research, lies within their different narrative qualities. While utopias
commonly construct worlds with particular focus on an advanced society, dystopia delivers a more pleasurable reading experience by developing individual characters and examining their opposition to the reigning order (Moylan 141). To this end, the reader is usually introduced to a counter-narrative, promoted by a citizen who seeks to deconstruct – or at least question – the nature of his or her dystopian reality. Within those texts, language often becomes one of the defining battlegrounds (Moylan 148). The struggle of the resistance can thus be expressed in the pursuit of reclaiming control over linguistic freedom. This process has several
implications, formulated by Moylan as follows:
An important result of the reappropriation of language by the dystopian misfits and rebels is the reconstitution of empowering memory. With the passed suppressed and the present reduced to the empirica of daily life, dystopian subjects usually lose all
recollection of the way things were before the new order, but by regaining language they also recover the ability to draw on the alternative truths of the past and ‘speak back’ to hegemonic power. (149)
This matter of facts points towards the productive potential of dystopia when it comes to questioning sociocultural matters – such as language, memory or history – but simultaneously highlights the text’s dependence on the reader’s ability to register the subtly encoded truths and establish a relationship to the actual world. In other words, what the author might imply to be either utopian or dystopian can still be interpreted differently, according to individual perception and historic engagement (Moylan 155). It concludes that the full scale of the dystopian capacity can only be approximated when both authorial intent and reader commitment compliment each other symbiotically. This method of affect has seen a proliferation since the 1980s, dystopia having become a tool “to bring readers and viewers into a hopeful reorientation by confronting and possibly breaking through the conditions it portrays” (Moylan 276). Those dystopian narratives that envision a glimmer of hope for humanity thus promote individuals who chose to face the hazards defining their environment.
After establishing a historic perspective on the literary genre and highlighting a selection of relevant characteristics, it is now time to assess the current manifestations of dystopia and which role they embody within a sociocultural frame.
2.2 Contemporary Reception
Utopianism as a means of social dreaming is expressed by its connection to the sociocultural and historical reality of the time. The analysis of a dystopian text can therefore offer insight
on the defining moments that a generation has experienced and reveal the meaning that authors allocate to their environment. In other words, the dystopian angle can be utilized to draw synchronic conclusions about the societal perception of space and time.
While still being in the relatively early stages of the 21st Century, evidence thus far suggests that the literary genre has been influenced to a great degree by the decade-defining events of 9/11, especially visible among American writers. Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek discusses the consequences of the cultural shock that the terrorist attacks inflicted among US citizens and addresses the “unimaginable Impossible” (386) that had occurred. He notes that the nature of the trauma can be characterised as a duality: on the one hand, people deemed a security breach of this scale unthinkable, cultivating feelings of uncertainty towards the future. On the other hand, the cultural productions of previous years undeniably
demonstrate that a fascination for the implausible apocalypse had already found its way into American pop culture (386). Trust in the inviolability of the supposedly secure and civilized environment had thus been shattered and, according to Žižek, had to make room for a growing perception of the unpredictability of unknown threats within one’s immediate surroundings. Put differently: “It is the awareness that we live in an insulated artificial universe which generates the notion that some ominous agent is threatening us all the time with total destruction” (Žižek 387). I argue that this change in perspective is traceable not only on a societal level, but also on a literary one.
In the wake of 9/11, a new wave of dystopian novels has enjoyed notable success, especially within the pop cultural sphere. Melissa Ames connects the rising demand for apocalyptic narratives to the “safe confines” (3) that fiction has to offer. She therefore claims that the decade following the attacks fostered the creation of such hypothetical playgrounds, illustrative of potential conflict resolution confined within a secure frame. In her essay, Ames focuses on the popularity of these dystopian texts among the Millennial Generation, but
simultaneously suggests that the phenomenon might be a subconscious reaction. She states that although adolescent readers “may not be conscious of fears related to 9/11, they are a part of the social and political climate – a climate that provides a ripe context for these dystopian texts” (8). Her research ties the critical aspect of dystopian texts to a global atmosphere of uncertainty, pointing to the media’s significant focus on security issues, thus inflicting even greater fear on an already destabilized atmosphere (8). Ames hereby confirms Žižek’s proposition that US citizens had previously projected a notion of sanctity onto their nation: “In the decade following the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, cultural products have been sites for interrogating and remediating the trauma that 9/11 caused for the citizens of a country that believed itself to be untouchable” (Ames 7).
The evolutionary path of utopianism demonstrates that each time period triggers its very own responses among authors inclined to the genre’s productive potential. This
encompasses content as much as it does literary style and form. I will argue hereafter that the current dystopian wave, including novels such as Brooks’ WWZ, is holding up a tradition that developed in the early 1990s. In a rectified list of definitions for the subordinate forms of utopianism, Lyman Sargent identifies a hybrid form that works even closer between the utopian and anti-utopian stance; the so-called ‘critical dystopia’. This form is achieved
through rigorous and critical exposure of societal behaviour, while simultaneously advocating for a utopian horizon to be reached after the potential triumph over the dystopian moment (qtd. in Moylan 195). According to Tom Moylan, this method can be assessed as highly productive, feeding on “the most progressive possibilities inherent in dystopian narratives” (188). These critical texts push formal boundaries even further than before, intensifying the afore mentioned practice of genre blurring (Moylan 189). Raffaella Baccolini supports this notion, explaining how the practise of borrowing literary conventions empowers dystopia (18). Contrary to this notion, Melissa Ames juxtaposes horror and zombie storylines to
dystopia in her research, treating them as separate entities (6). I propose however, to regard them as one symbiotic body of work, as described by the utopian scholars above: a critical dystopian narrative, enriched by the conscious incorporation of conventions from other genres.
Scientific literature has thus developed a greater interest in the study of cultural multimedia products falling into this category. A notable example would be Steven Pokornowski’s essay on the representation of global health and security issues within the video game franchise Resident Evil (216).4 The omnipresence of the zombie figure within dystopian narratives can be associated with an increased interest in global risk and security management, which Pokornowski entitles the “bioinsecurity aesthetic” (224), which flourished most notably in the wake of 9/11 (Leese 186). Similar to the actual attacks, the idea of a zombie plague supersedes the imaginative boundaries and fosters a creative
examination of unknown threats. Pokornowski elaborates: “Outbreak narratives centering on violent, infectious, often ‘undead’ individuals – commonly referred to under the problematic moniker ‘zombie’ – reveal some of the ways in which a logic of security permeates global cultural production” (Pokornowski 217). It can be asserted that the dystopian wave and the emergence of the undead both play into the spirit of uncertainty exploration, which defined cultural security concerns at the time. Nonetheless, the literary zombie occupies an
allegorical role with a history of its own that deserves attention. I believe it to be essential for any study of a zombie narrative to establish a coherent interpretation of its metaphorical potential within the given text. The following chapter will therefore focus on said interpretation, a necessary step before diving into Brooks’ novel.
To conclude this section, I want to enlist the relevant findings that will situate WWZ within the dystopian wave in the textual analysis. The genre is a subordinate form of
4 Pokornowski explains that the zombie was in fact a “transmedia figure from the start in American culture”
utopianism, which can be defined as a means of social dreaming. Authors thus seek to represent alternative sociocultural realities, which are either to be pursued or avoided. Dystopian narratives thereby relate directly to their respective zeitgeist. After 9/11, an atmosphere of uncertainty fostered a new rise of texts that relied on practices of genre blurring. The portrayed thought experiments; such as the critical dystopias, show extensive narrative qualities that enable the development of individual characters, and moreover advocate for a potential utopian horizon after the nightmare.
3. The Zombie Metaphor
The previous chapter outlined the construction of fictional, reflective societies as a fundamental point of departure for any work associated with Sargent’s utopianism. According to the scholar, these texts occasionally include non-human agents (13). In that sense, zombies do not disqualify WWZ from being considered dystopian. Over the course of the last decade, the figure has developed a dominant media presence (Korson 2), allowing it to become a “reflection of the Zeitgeist” (Leese 182). Their presence nonetheless requires a rigorous investigation into their greater representational purpose within the novel. The analysis of the zombie will thus allow a more conclusive evaluation of the dystopian narrative as well as the contemporary atmosphere it feeds on.
My interpretation will continue to explore the notion of the post-9/11 climate and its influence on the literary expression of cultural concerns (Ames 4). Matthias Leese denotes the zombie apocalypse a powerful counterfactual that can channel Žižek’s notion of the unimaginable Impossible: “it is exactly this creative absurdity that has been called for by political analysts in the aftermath of un-prevented events, and thus pop cultural narratives of the Zombie apocalypse provide powerful analytical value” (Leese 182).5 Brooks himself explicitly defines the zombie metaphor as his intention of creating a symbol for the “threats that we will be facing and the threats that we’re facing right now” (“Lecture of Opportunity” 00:01:55-00:02:01). In the following chapter I will therefore discuss the meaning of the zombie figure in relation to the uncertain peril of our time, as well as the psychological implications that follow conjointly.
5 On a side note, even the official 9/11 Commission Report explains the governmental level of unpreparedness
3.1 Uncertainty
Even though the concept of the zombie has gained in significance and achieved to draw attention from various academic sub fields, the origins of the figure are seldom investigated in much detail. While studies retain the fact that the zombie first appeared in a Caribbean environment and was shaped by voodoo culture (Korson 6; Leese 183; Munz et al. 133; Pokornowski 218), real engagement with the topic is widely sparked by the notion of a “contemporary, globalized zombie” (Pokornowski 219). By transcending a number of popular media platforms, the zombie then becomes the object of a multivariate analysis process, and it becomes apparent that its metaphorical use is just as multifaceted. Notable examples include creative thought experiments, such as the study of global zombie outbreak implications on International Relations (Blanton 1; Horn et al. 187), the creation of a
mathematical and biological “model for zombie infection” (Munz et al. 133), as well as a US Department of Defence concept of operations, which envisions the military challenges of a fictional zombie pandemic. The disclaimer of said document reveals the origins behind the unclassified security proposal, noting that training members “found out (by accident) that the hyperbole involved in writing a ‘zombie survival plan’ actually provided a very useful and effective training tool” (United States Strategic Command).
During a lecture on the promotion of creative ideas within the military branch, Max Brooks highlights a variety of creative yet unused plans, which the military had developed before actually needing them for combat situations they previously deemed unforeseeable.6
He himself thus advocates for the productive potential of the absurd event as a
methodological tool. It comes as no surprise that eventually; his very own zombie figure has
6 Brooks’ examples include: “Improvised Munitions Handbook”, “Unconventional Warfare: Devices,
Techniques, References” and “Guerrilla Warfare and Special Forces”, all released in the 1960s (“Creativity” 00:17:50-00:18:30).
experienced various interpretations and adaptations within a teaching environment. Cadey Korson demonstrates the dimensions of such an approach by incorporating WWZ into an undergraduate course in global geopolitics. To this end, she dissects the novel and subdivides it into specific themes: capitalism, contagion, immigration, mobility and religious
fundamentalism (6).
While it is true that the zombie can be interpreted according to each of these particular themes, I want to argue that Brook’s creation can supersede a one-dimensional meaning. Within a concrete association, it can in fact represent a more abstract, yet universally comprehensible threat. For that purpose, I want to retain a finding from Korson’s paper that points towards such a more general and underlying theme: “By focusing on zombies, Brooks utilizes a specific popular culture symbol to encourage readers to think about what scares us as a society at a particular moment” (4). This take on the zombie confirms the dystopian aspect of the novel by connecting it to contemporary societal fears. In my estimation, the incorporation of another angle, proposed by Leese, can then advance this idea even further. He approaches the novel from the perspective of global risk politics, but identifies the zombie figure as a wake-up call for individual resilience. Leese elaborates: “At the heart of the resilience discourse lies the assumed capacity of systems, societies, living beings, and ultimately life itself, to cope with the unforeseen, to adapt exogenous shocks, to flexibly bounce back, and to return to a newfound normalcy that incorporates new conditions of living” (190). By that, he infers that Brooks’ counterfactual apocalypse advocates for personal responsibility in the face of the uncertain threat, which sees the citizen becoming sovereign over his or her own security, thereby acknowledging the state’s deliberate abstinence from governing (Leese 182).
To build on this idea of the zombie feeding on contemporary fears while
to the metaphor – as well as the novel in general – will be based in the field of psychology. The core of this interpretation of the zombie is thus based on the assumption that, rather than debating the creature itself, Brooks’ attention is fully concentrated on the human response to it. In that regard, I define the zombie as an embodiment of uncertainty. My analysis will therefore elaborate on the portrayal of human responses to uncertainty, as this wider angle allows for a superordinate interpretation of the zombie figure, which does not deny any secondary meaning, but rather represents the universal challenge that is shared by all of mankind.
WWZ does not focus on any particular issue, fear, or character. The novel is
constructed as an oral history; a recollection of international “case studies” (Korson 1), or, as Pokornowski phrases it, an “anthropological history” (224). The narrative structure, which incorporates an international multiplicity of characters, is an indicator for the overarching reach of the uncertain threat presented to the readers. The author reveals that the choice of further constructing the novel as an oral history was inspired by Studs Terkel’s "The Good War": An Oral History of World War II (Brooks, “College”). He therefore names the human race the protagonist of his story (“Lecture of Opportunity” 04:02-04:05), and the oral
collection a tool to voice global views on the crisis (“College”). This makes it apparent that the linking element; the zombie, works as a reflection of the inner workings of the novel’s characters, while also embodying a threat.
The dystopian angle that I have chosen puts emphasis on the book’s harrowing global society and its individuals. It thus directs my interpretation of the zombie metaphor towards the atmosphere of uncertainty, which characterised the years of the novel’s creation. More importantly, the creature simultaneously reflects the mind of the ones confronted with it within the narrative frame of the text. The zombie’s physical similarity to that of a human being is essential for that purpose. Approaching the concept within cognitive science, Güven
Güzeldere defines it as follows: “A zombie is a creature that is indistinguishable in behavior as well as in certain physical or physically specifiable respects from a human being, yet which lacks certain mental features that a human being possesses” (593). In that sense, the zombies can be seen as representatives of the dystopian future that society seeks to avoid in the novel.
In conclusion of this section on the idea of uncertainty as the overarching metaphor, it is worth mentioning that even the nature of WWZ’s first zombie remains uncertain throughout the novel. The plot does not involve any kind of investigative path into the origin of the creature or the cause of the outbreak. The novel’s first case study introduces the doctor who treated patient zero, the first known victim of the zombie virus. The reported event took place in rural China, where doctor Kwang Jingshu got called to a “remote village that officially had no name” (WWZ 6), so that he could treat either “an accident, or an illness” (6). After initially dismissing the inhabitants as superstitious peasants (8), he quickly had to learn that the virus – and the creature shaped by the infection – was very real. The most conclusive information states that the boy went diving for treasures in the sunken remains of their old town, returning with a bite mark: “He didn’t know what had happened, the water had been too dark and muddy” (10). Different conclusions can be drawn from the given information. Korson relates it to a criticism of environmental devastation by manmade infrastructures, such as the dam that flooded the former home of the patient in the novel. She acknowledges however, that the true origin stays an object of speculation, as there is no further implicit information on the zombie’s origin (Korson 9-10). The focus is therefore not placed upon the cause of the
outbreak, but rather on the appropriate countermeasures that individuals can undertake to face it.
The zombie that Max Brooks presents to the readers is constructed as a universal, uncertain fear, which ties individuals all over the globe to one another. Moreover, it is a
problem that is inescapable and the eventual confrontation is imminent at any moment. This corresponds with the fascination the author describes, when asked about the nature of his creation: “zombies come to you. [They] don’t act like a predator; they act like a virus, and that is the core of my terror. ... [It] will just continue to spread, infect and consume, no matter what happens. It’s the mindlessness behind it” (“Virus”). The implications of constantly being surrounded by such a lurking threat are represented through the reflections of the novel’s characters. Therefore, the final theoretical section of my thesis will introduce a set of psychological concepts, which will be used in the analysis to interpret the decisions made in WWZ.
3.2 Anxiety
The body of research, concerned with the implications of uncertainty in the contemporary sociocultural sphere, has grown in recent years. An article by Hirsch et al. evaluates the psychological difficulties evoked by such an atmosphere, highlighting that “[u]ncertainty presents a fundamental (and unavoidable) challenge to the integrity of any complex organism” (304). Unresolved situations of great uncertainty thus provoke states of anxiety within individual subjects. A turn towards key principles of anxiety is therefore in order. To facilitate the understanding of the complex mechanisms at play, I will approach the theme by considering both old and modern conceptualizations, which will later be applied in the analysis to shine light on the psychological development of the characters in WWZ.
In 1844, Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard published The Concept of Anxiety under the pseudonym Vigilius Haufniensis. It identifies anxiety as an object of interest for
psychology and has received both criticism and praise in the field. It is therefore essential to mention that the methods employed by the philosopher differ significantly from
contemporary psychological approaches. In his introduction to the translated text, Reidar Thomte describes his research as follows: “Historically, the psychology with which Kierkegaard worked is quite different from present-day psychological research” (xvi). A closer look at his notion of the spirit can illustrate the distinguished angle used by
Kierkegaard. He imagines it as a phenomenon outside of the grasp of scientific observation, but indispensible for the understanding of human psychology: “A psychology that does not account for the determining and transforming activity of spirit in the self-conscious subject will not accurately reflect what grounds and generates the quality of man’s becoming” (Thomte xv). It thus becomes clear that the spirit he concedes, and within which anxiety is located, has a transformative function that drives the individual forward. This suggests that the Danish philosopher does not categorize anxiety as a purely unproductive state.
Kierkegaard himself elaborates further and promotes the idea that “individual life proceeds in a movement from state to state” (Kierkegaard 113). During each of these intermediary
positions, the individual reorients itself towards the next leap. A state is thus accompanied by possibility, which in return triggers anxiety due to the elevated amount of uncertain decisions that unfold. In Kierkegaard’s own words: “This state is the object of psychology. To the extent that in every state possibility is present, anxiety is also present” (113). It is essential to retain that his perception of anxiety leads him to recognize the beneficial side of the
experience. During the conclusive arguments of his book, Kierkegaard therefore highlights the educational potential hidden in states of anxiety and advocates for willingness to face the dangers of the uncertain path: “However, I will say that this is an adventure that every human being must go through – to learn to be anxious in order that he may not perish either by never having been in anxiety or by succumbing in anxiety. Whoever has learned to be anxious in
the right way has learned the ultimate” (155). The spirit of this idea will be useful in the analysis of the survivors of WWZ, as their stories exemplify how an individual can react and, more importantly, adapt in the state of grave anxiety.
The article by Hirsch et al. reacts to the increased interest in the topic of uncertainty and puts forward the following idea: “As the body of research on uncertainty continues to grow, the need for an integrative theoretical framework to establish its psychological significance and ... behavioral consequences has become increasingly apparent” (304). In order to achieve this goal, Hirsch et al. propose the “entropy model of uncertainty (EMU)” (304), a framework derived from thermodynamics. Kierkegaard already established the benefits of developing a productive resistance from the state of anxiety. The EMU is concerned with the internal mechanics of this process and therefore approaches the
phenomenon from a modern and scientific angle: “The entropy-based model ... provides an organizing framework for understanding the critical importance of uncertainty management for an individual’s survival, well-being, and productivity, situated within a broader
evolutionary and physical context” (304). Expanding the initial use of the entropy principle is in fact not uncommon. The article refers to its constructive adaptations within information systems (305), justifying the attempt to reimagine the concept as psychological entropy: “understanding the relationship between entropy and the potential of systems to perform work (i.e., to pursue and achieve goals) can illuminate the significance of uncertainty to biological systems in general and psychological systems more specifically” (305). In this regard, the relationship between self-organizing systems and the environment is of particular interest. Hirsch et al. delineate the need for individuals to dissipate internal entropy into the environment to sustain themselves successfully (305). This forms the first major tenet of the EMU, the fact that a system is biologically driven to keep inner entropy levels at a
If the environment changes to produce more entropy for an organism (thereby challenging its structural coherence), that organism must adopt new patterns of self-organization that are capable of accommodating the environmental changes. ... [S]table information systems survive only insofar as they are able to effectively manage their internal entropy. Those that cannot effectively dissipate the entropy are destroyed, in a Darwinian fashion. (Hirsch et al. 305)
The explanation put forward here is ironically fitting for the novel WWZ. The dystopian environment envisioned in the text introduces a dangerous new organism into the food chain, questioning mankind’s position in this survival hierarchy. The interviews presented in the book advocate for a positive horizon nonetheless, as the mere existence of such documents attests for the fact that not everyone perished in the face of extreme hostility.
The first major tenet of the EMU has thus been established. The further details described by Hirsch et al. will be employed in the analysis to delineate the actions and reactions of people fighting through an environment, marked by uncertain threats. I will therefore conclude the theoretical part of my thesis and turn to the study of Max Brooks’ World War Z.
4. Textual Analysis
The analysis of the novel will be divided into two sections. The first one will focus on the invitation into the dystopian reality of WWZ, initiated by the narrator in the introductory chapter. The following part will then delineate how the characters’ decisions reflect the psychological challenges of facing anxiety, according to the tenets of the EMU.
4.1 Invitation
The novel begins with a brief introductory chapter in which a nameless narrator establishes the first images of the dystopian setting. The choice of words describing “the greatest conflict in human history” (WWZ 1) leaves little doubt from the beginning that the true apocalypse has been fended off by humanity. He or she introduces zombies as the “creatures that almost caused our extinction” (1). It is relevant to highlight this strategy of indicating a post-dystopia at an early stage. The text hints at the existence of a world back in balance, which allows people to revisit and revaluate the years of the actual war. Even though there is ambiguity about the state of this new world, it nonetheless communicates a sign of hope from the very beginning. In doing so, WWZ harmonizes with a dystopian tradition, which can be traced to earlier embodiments of the genre, such as E. M. Foster’s The Machine Stops (Moylan 159). Brooks’ narrator reveals that the record was initially supposed to be a conflict report,
delegated by the “United Nations Postwar Commission” (WWZ 1). The existence of such an organisation, combined with its goal of documenting “clear facts and figures” (2) about the
war, implies that a global order is still in place and that deeply rooted values of humanity, such as “legal freedom” (2), have successfully been preserved. Nonetheless, this horizon of hope has to be met with caution, as further reading delivers a chastening verdict on the state of the post-dystopian era:
It is no great secret that global life expectancy is a mere shadow of its former prewar figure. Malnutrition, pollution, the rise of previously eradicated ailments, even in the United States, with its resurgent economy and universal health care are the present reality; there simply are not enough resources to care for all the physical and psychological casualties. (3)
This summary opposes the socioeconomic realities of the world before and after the zombie plague and reveals that the healing process is far from over. At this early point in the novel, the reader is still left without conclusive information on how the survivors themselves view this new chapter in human history. Conclusions about the achievement of a utopian horizon thus need to be postponed to a later stage.
Post-dystopian narratives exist within the timeline of WWZ, although they are heavily contested and policed. The very first sentence of the novel is an indication of different frames that survivors have attributed to the global outbreak: “It goes by many names: ‘The Crisis,’ ‘The Dark Years,’ ‘The Walking Plague,’ as well as newer and more ‘hip’ titles such as ‘World War Z’ or ‘Z War One’” (1). All the enlisted titles carry the function of being “interpretative structures in the direct aftermath of a traumatic experience” (Hirsch et al. 313), enabling individuals to start the process of reorientation. The pursuit of such an appropriate conceptualization of the experienced horrors is thus an indication of a move towards a recovery process: “Trauma narration provides a means to develop clearer memory representations of the traumatic experience, control the associated affect, and eventually move beyond the event” (Hirsch et al. 314). The narrator of WWZ highlights the global
acceptance of the term zombie and identifies it as an influential moniker that reflects the shared experience: “Zombie remains a devastating word, unrivaled in its power to conjure up so many memories or emotions, and it is these memories, and emotions, that are the subject of this book” (1). Simultaneously, the opening section draws attention to the fact that even in the new post-war era, governing bodies still exercise a hegemonic authority over the
distribution of narratives. The text presented to the readers thus differs from the final edition of the United Nations report, in the sense that it focuses on what was criticised in the
narrator’s initial draft for the organisation: “the human factor” (2). Even though both parties diverge in substance from a philosophical perspective, the narrator acknowledges the validity of the document: “Of course the [chairperson] was right. The official report was a collection of cold, hard data, an objective ‘after-action report’ that would allow future generations to study the events of that apocalyptic decade without being influenced by ‘the human factor’” (2). The reference to forthcoming generations hereby confirms the notion of hope embedded in the critical dystopia, although it is clear that the post-war era still produces conflicts of its own.
Due to this personal, philosophical disagreement, the narrator has composed his or her own version of the war and lays out the justifications for doing so. Assembling a variety of personal records creates a psychological angle, which can be used to show the damages done to humanity in a less detached manner. The argument goes as follows:
But isn’t the human factor what connects us so deeply to our past? Will future
generations care as much for chronologies and casualty statistics as they would for the personal accounts of individuals not so different from themselves? By excluding the human factor, aren’t we risking the kind of personal detachment from a history that may, heaven forbid, lead us one day to repeat it? And in the end, isn’t the human
factor the only true difference between us and the enemy we now refer to as ‘the living dead’? (2)
The counter-narrative is thus set up and the reader knows that the presented collection is a means to conceptualize the trauma from an intimate and personal perspective. This narrative mode therefore adds to the captivating reading experience inherent to dystopia, which is “derived from conflicts that develop in discrete elements of plot and characterological action” (Moylan 148). Moreover, the narrator centralises the common denominator found in each of the stories to highlight the monumental difference between survivors and infected. The second reason he or she presents for writing a “personal history book so soon after the end of worldwide hostilities” (WWZ 2), offers further insight on the temporal situation of the novel: “We’ve been at peace about as long as we were at war” (2). The decision of collecting voices from all around the world is thus based on the premise that the stories need to be recorded while the survivors of the horrors are still able to tell them: “But many of those memories may no longer exist, trapped in bodies and spirits too damaged or infirm to see the fruits of their victory harvested” (3). This statement is revelatory in two aspects. Firstly, it confirms the idea that the focus of the novel lies on the characters’ psychological development, related to anxiety-provoking situations. The choice of words is in fact reminiscent of Kierkegaard’s notion of spirit, a vessel that accommodates the past experiences of anxiety and thus permits the individual to move forward. Secondly, the narrator reveals within the phrasing that no matter the current state of affairs, he or she believes that the people were victorious and that future prosperity is in sight.
The novel’s introduction encompasses the “initial invitation” (Moylan 159) into the dystopian environment of WWZ. Textual evidence suggests that this scenery is defined by the overarching nature of the zombie threat. In that regard, the figure is an ideal catalyst that transcends the local sphere and expands its grasp onto the full global territory. The horror of
the plague is therefore based on an idea, which Methmann and Rothe entitle the logic of apocalypse: “while catastrophic risks often affect a particular delimited political community ..., a logic of apocalypse inherently invokes an encompassing and universal threat” (328). In accordance with this logic, the novel’s title makes it clear that the war is a global problem and must therefore be exposed by a multinational selection of characters. Moreover, as Methmann and Rothe put it, the “war metaphor definitely implies an agglomeration of various catastrophes” (328). The interviews that make up the “book of memories” (WWZ 3) are thus designed to represent various regions with different problems to demonstrate the omnipresence of the zombie threat. Apart from corresponding to Pokornowski’s security aesthetic, this also goes in accordance with the authorial intent behind the aspect of shaping the book as an oral history, formulated by Brooks as the desire to “bring in so many voices, literally, from all around the world” (“College”). Humanity is the binding element between all survivors of the zombie war, regardless of individual backgrounds.
4.2 Resilient Characters
The first textual element of study will be that of the dystopian environment. The global appearance of zombies has set new parameters for the characters of WWZ, which means that a great amount of prior knowledge has been rendered useless in the face of the
ever-approximating threat. According to the second major tenet of the Entropy Model of Anxiety, the field of psychology recognizes two areas of interest in this regard. Hirsch et al. note: “there are two primary domains of uncertainty that must be contended with from a
Uncertainty, which the model envisions as psychological entropy, thus consists of the
subjective conflict between perception and appropriate behavioural response. This means that any organism is highly reliant on a meticulous interpretation of environmental features, as the intake of information consequently directs or redirects any further action. Hirsch et al.
elaborate on the matter:
The EMU conceptualizes both the perceptual and behavioral domains as probability distributions. Perception can be understood as the interpretation of sensory input in accordance with expectations, motives, and past experience. Accordingly, there is a probability distribution of potential meanings and perceptual experiences that can be derived from any given array of sensory input. This distribution is influenced by both the structure inherent within the input itself and the structure of the perceptual system doing the interpreting. (306)
This statement draws attention to the fact that the successful interpretation process of sensory input is dependant on the subjective experience of the organism, but simultaneously on the nature of the new information. It concludes that the same spatial affordance can trigger other behavioural responses in different subjects; based on the inner response structures an
individual has built over the span of its life. Responses during situations of uncertainty can therefore be approximated only. Hirsch et al. further denote the difference between erupting states of low or high psychological entropy. The former marks situations with great
probability rates for “employing a particular action or perceptual frame” (307), the latter accompanies events during “which there are multiple competing frames and behavioral options ..., none of which is clearly more strongly activated than the others” (307). Or, in Kierkegaardian terms: “Anxiety is freedom’s possibility” (155).
In order to apply the elaborated premise to Brooks’ novel, I want to bridge the gap between the first two tenets of the EMU: “The first major tenet of the ... framework indicates
that because individuals will be motivated to reduce the experience of uncertainty to a
manageable level, psychological discomfort will increase along with the degree of perceptual and behavioral ambiguity within a situation” (307).7 In the context of WWZ, this implies distinguishing between two different forms of environment: well-defined and familiar surroundings versus unspecified and unknown territory.
Decisions in familiar environments are not a frequent occurrence in Brooks’ novel; nonetheless there are two characters that display the premise of the EMU. Known
environments foster reliable behavioral responses to the inflow of affordances, which generates low entropy distributions. The circumstances of such situations produce strong indications for a single, dominant affordance, and consequent restraints on others: “If the environment is well specified (i.e., personally familiar), the brain is able to settle relatively quickly into a particular perceptual-behavioral frame, based on patterns of habitual
responding and reliable estimates of likely outcomes” (Hirsch et al. 307). In the chapter “Warnings” (WWZ 5), the reader is introduced to Jacob Nyathi, a survivor from South Africa who recounts the first zombie sightings and attacks in his hometown. His case is of particular interest in regards to familiar environments. Jacob’s surroundings were inherently dangerous, they had been so even in times before the zombie outbreak, as he and his family lived in “one of the four main townships outside of Cape Town” (35-36). Even though the threat of
violence was ever present around his home, Jacob had become accustomed to it. One is thus able to observe how his brain activated the appropriate response mechanisms upon hearing a shot fired, due to the extended exposure to the environment: “Gun fire was not unusual, not in my neighborhood, not in those days. ‘One man, one gun,’ that was the slogan of my life in Khayelitsha. Like a combat veteran, you develop almost genetic survival skills. Mine were razor sharp” (36). Jacob reacted instantaneously to the threat, without concerning himself
with the possibility that the nature of said threat might not be what he thought it to be. Hirsch et al. describe this mental procedure as follows: “The brain’s operation during these familiar situations is relatively efficient, as there is a rapid matching of environmental input with habitual perceptual and behavioral patterns” (307). Jacob’s actions in the novel constitute an exemplary reflection of this statement. With both a combination of the environmental affordances and his own experience, he quickly moved towards the safest possible location:
I crouched, tried to triangulate the sound, and at the same time look for the hardest surface to hide behind. Most of the homes were just makeshift shanties, wood scrap or corrugated tin, or just sheets of plastic fastened to barely standing beams. Fire ravaged these lean-tos at least once a year, and bullets could pass through them as easily as open air. I sprinted and crouched behind a barbershop, which had been constructed from a car-sized shipping container. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for a few seconds, long enough to hole up and wait for the shooting to die down. (WWZ 36) Jacob found himself in a situation of low entropy. He was acquainted to the space and was moreover aware of potential shelter, as well as which spots to avoid. However, the
uncertainty produced by the appearance of the zombie had not yet set in.
The novel portrays a further example of the advantageous setting of a familiar
environment. In arguably one of the most breath-taking stories, the reader follows the path of Sensei Tomonaga, a blind Japanese man who escaped civilization upon receiving news of the outbreak. His noble reason for doing so: he did not want to be a burden or slow anybody down during the inevitable escape (271). His believes turned out to be very misplaced however. When he took the initiative to leave, he consciously sought out a well-known environment in the region of the Hiddaka Mountains: “I was very familiar with this national park. [My friend] Ota-san had taken me here every year ... As a man who often rises in the middle of the night knows the exact location of every item in his darkened bedroom, I knew
every river and every rock, every tree and patch of moss” (272). Sensei Tomonaga, who’s perception significantly differed from that of the other characters described in the book, hereby affirms the premise that new affordances are easier to interpret if an organism finds itself on well-acquainted territory. His handling of the zombie threat rose to an exceptional level, due to the advanced development of his other senses: “Losing my vision had also prepared me for the act of ever-vigilant mobility. ... I already had to be on guard for potential danger, to be focused, alert, and ‘watching my step,’ so to speak. Simply adding one more threat was no bother at all” (275). His example shows that over an increased period of time in an already familiar environment, even the peril posed by zombies becomes increasingly predictable. Nonetheless, his survival could only be assured through his rigorous and
uncompromising reading of the spatial affordances surrounding him: “Every time I walked, it was for no longer than several hundred paces. I would halt, listen to and smell the wind, perhaps even press my ear to the ground. This method never failed me. I was never surprised, never caught off guard” (275). It is demonstrated how he used his acclimatization to the mountain region to his advantage. His skillset eventually included the location of zombies through their “howling” (276). The alarming sound gave him the possibility of establishing a distance between him and the threat: “I would hear the moan wafting across the hills and fields and know that, in perhaps half an hour or so, one of the living dead would be paying me a visit” (276). It can hereby be asserted that Tomonaga’s journey mostly produced states of low entropy. Even though the zombie threat initially constituted a new affordance that increased uncertainty, the acquainted terrain left the upper hand to the Sensei, as it allowed him to adapt to the new conditions within relative safety.
As one of the lucky characters able to choose his own fighting ground, Sensei
the people in the remaining interviews. It is therefore imperative to delineate the reactions of characters finding themselves on foreign territory.
Orientation towards appropriate action in an unfamiliar environment poses greater uncertainty for any organism. When the dominant decision directing the probability
distribution subsides, levels of entropy rise: “Unconstrained situations with a large range of perceived possibilities will result in states of relatively greater uncertainty, while constrained situations with a narrow range of possibilities will result in states of relatively less
uncertainty” (Hirsch et al. 307). For an illustration of the transition process from safety to uncertainty, a return to Japan, in this case the urban area of Kokura, is in order. Kondo Tatsumi’s interview recounts the life of a teenager who had chosen not to adhere to the social pressure of the real world, but had instead opted to become an “otaku” (WWZ 251); an
outsider: “Others, like myself, chose exile in a better world. That world was cyber space, and it was tailor-made for Japanese otaku” (252). Kondo enjoyed notable success and recognition from his peers inside this universe, leading to a sense of almightiness and security: “In this world I was powerful, and more importantly, I was safe!” (253). The retrospective story does not hide the disillusioned state of mind that Kondo had reached through this false sense of safety. His detachment from the dangers of the real world staggered to a point where he was no longer able to perceive himself as an actual agent of the environment: “Japan was
doomed, but I didn’t live in Japan. I lived in a world of free-floating information” (254). Eventually, the teenager had to wake from this dreamy, ignorant state of mind. Neither the absence of his parents, nor the fact that his otaku friends started disappearing one after another, had managed to pull him out of cyber space. Only after the inevitable failure of the online network, reality started to hit Kondo: “It wasn’t bad yet. I was still in control. I tried to go back online. Isn’t that funny? All I could think about was trying to escape again, getting back to my world, being safe. Nothing. I started to panic” (257). Just as the network had
crumbled, the truth about his place in the real world came crashing down on him. Most of Kondo’s life experience stemmed from a universe that was no longer existent.
Unsurprisingly, he had his difficulties accepting the fact of being offline and faced with the unforgiving environment of the zombie apocalypse. Denial, rage and frustration took over in those very first moments of uncertainty, leading him to smash the monitor with his bare hands (257-258). Finally, he took the decision to face the unfamiliar territory of the real world: “I got up and staggered to the front door. I don’t know what I was looking for, just that I had to get out. I opened the door and stared into darkness” (258). The state of high entropy is observable in this passage. Kondo was doubtful about his options and not thinking clearly. He decided to follow the part of his mind that told him to escape, but so far he had not yet encountered a real threat. Consequently, the adventure outside of the confinements of his apartment came to a premature halt: “I took a few steps, slipped, and fell into something soft. ... I suddenly became aware of a low, steady scraping noise, like something was dragging itself across the hallway toward me. ... I sat there, paralyzed, wanting to run but at the same time wanting to ... to know for sure” (258). Kondo hereby affirms the premise that the state of anxiety is closely related to psychological entropy. He was incapable of making it past the staircase due to his physical inaptness, stemming from years of prolonged screen time throughout the majority of the day (258). More interestingly however, the teenager attributed the most frightening element of the new environment not to the danger itself, but to the uncertainty that accompanied the situation. He froze upon seeing his first real-life zombie, and the desire to find out the truth almost trumped his survival instinct: “I finally saw its face, perfectly intact, perfectly human, except for the right eye that hung by the stem. The left eye was locked on mine and its gurgling moan became a choked rasp. I jumped to my feet, sprang back inside my apartment, and slammed the door behind me” (258). Compared to other situations in the novel, where people had to face hundreds of zombies at a time, the
confrontation that Kondo endured appears relatively harmless. Nonetheless, he was not acquainted to the norms of the real world, even less so to the new dystopian food chain. His first steps outside had proven misplaced, making him flee back into the less unfamiliar confines of his apartment. To describe the situation with Kierkegaard’s words: “No matter how deep an individual has sunk, he can sink still deeper, and this ‘can’ is the object of anxiety” (113). A few steps further, out unto the balcony, and Kondo had to realize he was not only in the centre of unfamiliar, but in fact extremely hostile territory:
Kokura was engulfed in hell. The fires, the wreckage ... the sifau8 were everywhere. I watched them crash through doors, invade apartments, devour people cowering in corners or on balconies. I watched people leap to their deaths or break their legs and spines. They lay on the pavement, unable to move, wailing in agony as the dead closed in around them. (WWZ 259)
Distracted and obsessed by his online persona, Kondo did not realize his place in the world before it was almost too late and found himself stranded, alone and forgotten in the middle of the arena of the undead.
The novel depicts a turning point in the zombie war when the narrator interviews one of the participants of the “Honolulu Conference” (326), held aboard a former US aircraft carrier that was repurposed into the “floating United Nations HQ” (326). At the point of the assembly, the state of the world had been put back into a relative balance. This was only made possible due to most nations taking drastic and highly questionable measures, or, to be more precise, sacrificing half of both their territory and their population. This means that greater parts of the globe now belonged to the undead, with the survivors barricading behind what was left. It was the president of the United States who eventually rose to address all participating nations and reveal his plan for retaking back hostile territory. The irony of the
situation did not escape the Chilean naval officer, who retells the poetic phrases of the
president he deems as “typically Norteamericano” (329). The central aspect of the president’s argument circles around the necessity of nurturing “the human spirit” (329). Ernesto Olguin echoes the words of the US leader:
We were a shaken, broken species, driven to the edge of extinction and grateful only for a tomorrow with perhaps a little less suffering than today. Was this the legacy we would leave to our children, a level of anxiety and self-doubt not seen since our simian ancestors cowered in the tallest trees? ... And what if the future saw another rise of the living dead? Would our descendants rise to meet them in battle, or simply crumple in meek surrender and accept what they believe to be their inevitable extinction? For this reason alone, we had to reclaim our planet. (329)
The theme of anxiety was centralized in this speech. The reader can observe how the remaining world order had to deal with the ultimate decision of facing the uncertainty that accompanies a counter attack to finally overcome the global state of anxiety. The passage therefore goes in accordance with Kierkegaard’s perception of the educated encounter with anxiety, which prevents an individual from forgetting the event. The liberating effect, as described by the Danish philosopher himself, reflects the proposition of the president in WWZ. He writes:
Then the assaults of anxiety, even though they be terrifying, will not be such that he flees from them. For him, anxiety becomes a serving spirit that against its will leads him where he wishes to go. Then, when it announces itself, when it cunningly
pretends to have invented a new instrument of torture, far more terrible than anything before, he does not shrink back, and still less does he attempt to hold it off with noise and confusion; but he bids it welcome ... Then anxiety enters into his soul and
searches out everything and anxiously torments everything finite and petty out of him, and then it leads him where he wants to go. (Kierkegaard 159)
As suggested here, the conscious decision to face uncertainty and welcome anxiety into the spirit, can be of beneficial value. The president’s concerns for future generations were based on the premise that they would not be able to recover from any terrifying event if humanity did not fight back against the zombies now. Kierkegaard relates to this notion by highlighting the value of resilience, built up by a voluntary encounter with anxiety. In terms of the EMU, it is noteworthy to highlight that the president’s speech simultaneously initiated the
establishment of a vision for the future while building on understanding the past. Hirsch et al. note accordingly: “Consistent with the EMU framework, producing detailed narratives about an ideal future yields psychological and physical health benefits similar to those obtained from narrating a personal trauma. Setting goals for the future, like telling stories, should similarly reduce the uncertainty associated with that future” (314).9 However, at the Honolulu Conference in WWZ, the president’s proposition was not met with comparable optimism, but rather with opposition and doubt. Nonetheless, a later vote between national representatives turned out in favour of the undertaking.
The president’s announcement marks the beginning of the section entitled “Total War” (WWZ 332), which consists of interviews recounting the events of a globally coordinated counter attack against the undead. The dystopian and Darwinian state of the abandoned parts of the world is subsequently revealed in a conversation with Travis
D’Ambrosia, the “Supreme Allied Commander” (63). Having played a pivotal role during the peak of the war,10 he was put in charge of the military operation to take back the United
States from the grasp of the zombies. Despite his experience, the prospect of this mission on hostile ground, paired with the elevated number of possible outcomes, produced high levels
9 The further benefits of trauma narration will be highlighted at a later stage in the analysis.
10 A previous conversation with the director of the Department of Strategic Resources states high praise for the
of psychological entropy: “I was scared to death of taking our armed forces on the offensive” (333). The commander can in this case be taken as a representative for the global climate reigning over the world at that very moment. The dimensions of the proposed enterprise were marked by uncertainty and, more importantly, superseded human imagination itself: “Two hundred million zombies. Who can even visualize that type of number, let alone combat it?” (333). American soil, the way it was known prior to the war, had vanished from the Earth. Accordingly, D’Ambrosia’s vision for the future was modest, as he was doubtful of their chances for victory (333). The probability distributions in this case were high, due to the fact that the initial military operations against the zombies had all failed. The undead had nearly exhausted the human repertoire for rebounds, rendering the task of conquering the unfamiliar environment even more difficult. The commander concludes: “The book of war, the one we’ve been writing since one ape slapped another, was completely useless in this situation. We had to write a new one from scratch” (334). His reasoning demonstrates that all of the constraints, active prior to the zombie plague and established through familiarity with the environment and its threats, did no longer apply.
In order to delineate the mechanisms at play during states of high entropy, which have been enabled by environmental dangers, I will further consult Kim Sterelny’s Thought in a Hostile World. The book establishes the distinct evolution of human behavioural and cognitive modes as a consequence of adaptation to the peril of the natural environment. According to his analysis of the dependency on successful information intake, a hostile surrounding constitutes of three major menaces, all triggered by one or multiple hostile agents in the environment: pollution of the informational world, sensitive responses during interactions and an imposed danger on the information gathering process (26). While all three elements hold a truth-value for the real and actual world, only one of them applies to the dystopian earth that Brooks created. The first two conclusions by Sterelny imply
