Doesn’t it sound ironic that stories of destruction and despair can actually make people feel better about their lives? The times of feel-good stories seem to be giving way to stories that depict a post-apocalyptic world where humankind has ended, the environment is destroyed, fertility and reproduction are concerns and the world is being ruled by a corrupt authority. If this plotline sounds familiar, it is perhaps because people have been finding comfort in dystopian narratives; thereby leading to many such narratives being produced and brought into the market.
When Thomas More wrote Utopia in 1516, he coined the term thereby implying a state of perfection - an ideal world, where labour is shared, private property is not owned and everyone lives harmoniously. The word utopia is derived from a Greek word ‘ou-topos’ which means nowhere. While this work was written by More as a contrast to the society he lived in, and perhaps in the hope and quest of a better society, the question is, can an ideal society exist or have we always been living in different versions of dystopian realities?
In 1949, when George Orwell wrote 1984, he too was writing dystopia, which was widely called a cautionary tale by some. In the book, we see the torture meted out to the protagonist who dares to think differently from the political regime of the time. While considered a landmark in literature, this book suddenly surged to mass popularity in 2017 (after the inauguration of Donald Trump as president) where a 9500 percent rise was witnessed in the sales in America. This was seen to be therapeutic for some people, as they found comfort in the fact that their reality was not as bad as the one described in the book. But, is that true?
1984 introduced the character of the omnipresent Big Brother, one who was always watching you. In the book, the protagonist is told that while Big Brother exists, he can never die. Although He does not actually appear in the book, his presence and terror is felt throughout the book. Yet another question comes to mind at this point: are we now so comfortable being watched (and definitely we are being watched a lot more today than Orwell had imagined in 1949), that like the protagonist, we too have fallen in love with the Big Brother? Have we comfortably signed off autonomy of thought and expression to the intoxicating effect of comfort and luxury? Just as Orwell's 1984 explores the manipulation of power and control, Margaret Atwood's 1985 dystopian fiction The Handmaid's Tale delves into the intersections of authority and gender.
It depicts a society that is being ruled by a government that is patriarchal and totalitarian: where women’s fertility, movement, reproductive choices, and colour of clothing are all state-controlled. Atwood has quoted in interviews that she had chosen to write about things that have either already happened, or which could happen in the future because the technology for them already exists. The symbol of the handmaid has become iconic for protests around the world, where women can be seen wearing the red cloak and white hat of the handmaid - perhaps as a metaphor for the exploitation that they feel they have been facing.
It is also interesting to note that dystopian fiction often tends to focus on the bodies of women and reproduction (or the lack of it). While fertility takes centre-stage in Atwood’s book, it also becomes the driving force of a recently released Indian movie Kalki 2898 AD.
In a bizarre combination of Mahabharata and dystopian narratives, the movie constantly reminds us that fertile women are necessary (and thereby kept in a lab sort of environment) to increase the powers of the one who controls the land in this apocalyptic environment. A scene shows a machine that beeps if a woman is fertile, and a young girl child is separated from her father at the beginning of the movie so that she can perhaps be added to this lab of fertile women where they live almost like machines in cells. The imagery used in the movie is not one of hope, but rather that of despair. Yet, the film did exceedingly well if the box office numbers are to be believed.
What prompts us to continue reading, re-reading, watching, and rewatching tales of dystopian fiction? In psychology, social comparison theory suggests that most psychological characteristics such as abilities, opinions, and values are usually not compared with an absolute standard, but rather against differing yardsticks held by others. Some choose to “compare upwards” but most choose to “compare downwards.” Why? Because downward social comparison is one of the easiest ways to make oneself feel better. Say you’re reading a novel about a dystopian universe where water is scarce and wars have broken out to take control of the last freshwater reserve on Earth. Imagine reading this while sipping on a fresh glass of water yourself. Comparing downwards brings perspective and fosters gratitude.
Dystopian fiction allows us to (safely) tread paths that make us vulnerable, especially from an evolutionary angle. We can grapple with threats of extinction in fictional worlds, which can also help us mentally prepare for such eventualities (even if hypothetical). But what happens when reality becomes stranger than fiction? For instance, when the COVID-19 outbreak led to unprecedented lockdowns across the world, the effects were not short of being dystopian. In a novel about a pandemic in the 21st century, the only thing worse would be the lack of telecommunications, amplifying the isolation that was already felt. Dystopian worlds help us prepare for the worst, find comfort in our relatively utopian lives, and are increasingly gaining popularity. How else would we get a glimpse into what we can do when world order collapses? Is Dystopian fiction meant to be a warning, so that we do not descend into complete chaos? Is it a wake-up call, perhaps? Or is it here to remind us that if we continue destroying human life, the environment and our resources the way we do, perhaps one day, dystopia won’t be fiction anymore?
Rashmi Mehta and Hansika Kapoor
