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Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as
Ecocriticism
Jamie Slagel
Jesus College, Oxford
“May a green wind sweep all across the earth”
~We ~
“This is not a rejection of our humanity—it is an affirmation of the wonder of what it
means to be truly human.”
~ The Dark Mountain Project ~
“The fact remained, and would remain always, remain everywhere […] that the ground
of all being could be totally manifest in a flowering shrub, a human face”
~ Island ~
1Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
Abstract
Discussion surrounding dystopia tends to focus on political oppression and technological
development. However, I argue in this essay that dystopia, thoroughly explored, is a form
of ecocriticism, especially focusing on Huxley’s Brave New World and Island. Not only
that, but ecocritical analyses of dystopia teach us the horrors of treating nature as
externality, and thereby commodifying, subjugating, and obliterating it. But ecocritical
analysis does not just teach us more about the world, it also instructs us about our
environmental response to it: if we wish to improve society and the environment, we
must first look inwards.1
I. Greenprints
Ecocriticism
Ecocriticism is a theoretical movement not only in literature, but also in philosophy, art,
environmental science, and activism—in all of which it foregrounds the existence of non-
humans and the relationship between humans and non-humans. In doing so, it both
draws lessons from literature about and tackles the presentation of non-humans/our
relationship with them in literature. Furthermore, ecocriticism catalyses a call to action
regarding the environmental crisis looming over us.
That, at least, is my succinct understanding of ecocriticism, which purposefully does
not claim to be the ‘ecocriticism’. Purposefully, because the ecocritical movement is
diverse enough to render it difficult to define precisely or concisely. Indeed, ecocriticism
is unified “more by virtue of a common political project than on the basis of shared
theoretical and methodological assumption”.2 Nor is ecocriticism a unified field where
everyone agrees with one another; Buell, thinking about its definition, calls it a
“concourse of discrepant practices”.3 It is, rather, an umbrella sheltering many different
schools of thought. Indeed, the use of the term “ecocriticism” is itself not agreed upon;
in the eponymously named The Future of Environmental Criticism, Buell adopts the term
“environmental criticism”. 4 Secondly, and more importantly, Buell argues that
“environmental” better encapsulates the hybridity of the subject matter than “eco”, and
that the movement’s foci are “increasingly heterogeneous”.5 All that is agreed is that not
much is agreed upon.
Nevertheless, there is general concord regarding certain central tenets characterising
the field. For Buell, this involves thinking about the imaging and representation of
environment, the re-conception of place as a fundamental dimension both in art and lived
1
With special thanks to my marvellous editors: Angela Eichhorst, Yihang Fang, and Megan Feltham,
for all their insightful comments, brilliant help, and constant support.
2
Heise, “The Hitchhiker's Guide to Ecocriticism”.
3
Buell, The Future of Environmental Criticism. Ch.1.
4
Buell, The Future of Environmental Criticism. Preface. Buell does so because ‘ecocriticism’
“invokes in some quarters the cartoon image of a club of intellectually shallow nature worshipers”
(which is no longer appropriate, if it ever was).
5
Buell, The Future of Environmental Criticism. Preface. Buell points out that environmental
criticism has come to engage with metropolitan and toxic landscapes and discussions of
environmental justice, alluding to the first-wave v second-wave “ecocriticism” distinction.
2Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
experience, and a strong ethical or political commitment. 6 Heise neatly captures this
through an evocative set of questions she takes to be central to ecocriticism:
“In what ways do highly evolved and self-aware beings relate to nature? What
roles do language, literature, and art play in this relation? How have modernization
and globalization processes transformed it? Is it possible to return to more
ecologically attuned ways of inhabiting nature, and what would be the cultural
prerequisites for such a change?” 7
In such a way, a key aspect of ecocriticism it its commitment to probing conceptual
dichotomies imposed upon us by modernity. Hence, it redefines the relation between the
human subject and the non-human world, questioning the project of “[creating] a human
sphere apart from [the natural world] in a historical process that is usually labelled
‘progress.’”8
Ecocriticism, then, does not simply analyse the presentation of nature, the
environment, and place in texts. Ecocriticism proclaims a two-way street: literature draws
on the real world, but the real world draws on literature too. Thus, ecocriticism
encourages us to allow literature to teach us about the environment. Consider Meeker,
who draws environmental lessons from literature: he suggests that we should learn from
the attitude of the comic rather than tragic hero. For Meeker, comedy values those traits
humans share with nonhumans: survival, adaptation, community, veniality (mildly wrong
behaviour), and play. 9 This contrasts with tragedy’s anthropocentric haughtiness
towards the natural order and “hubristic defiance of [adaptation]”.10
Nevertheless, there is much room for jostling under the ecocritical umbrella. But I do
not wish to resolve any such discussions in this essay, if indeed they need resolving. I
only want to do two things. Firstly, apply certain aspects of ecocritical thought to the
dystopian tradition. Secondly, to suggest that the meaning of ecocriticism can be further
clarified by re-casting dystopia/utopia as ecocriticism. In fact, I will undoubtedly raise as
many questions as I answer. But that is exactly the point: by conceptualising
dystopia/utopia as ecocriticism, opportunities are presented to further carve out
ecocriticism’s contours. As I argue for this reconceptualization, I will continue to flesh out
my outline of ecocriticism.
Dystopia/Utopia
The term utopia was coined by Thomas More as a play on the Greek topos (“place”) and
u/eu (“no”/“good”), a pun on “good place” and “no place”. Utopia, therefore, was
established from the off as the form of literature that outlined an ideal society, but also
as one that is idealistic: a society that does not exist, probably will never exist, and may
be practically impossible. Dystopia involves the flip of utopia: it is speculative fiction
sketching a “bad place”. But such a neat binary must be blurred. For “dystopia is not
simply the opposite of utopia”; unlike the idealism of utopias, dystopias “resemble […]
6
Buell, The Future of Environmental Criticism. Preface.
7
Heise, “The Hitchhiker's Guide to Ecocriticism”.
8
Heise, “The Hitchhiker's Guide to Ecocriticism”.
9
Meeker, The Comedy of Survival.
10
Meeker, The Comedy of Survival.
3Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
actual societies” in that they are “planned, but not planned all that well or justly”. 11
Dystopias are realistic but bad; utopias good but idealistic. Both are thus indictments of
the present, but for different reasons.
Such a statement may seem odd because dystopias and utopias, at first presentation,
do not concern the present. However, although they portray that which is not present,
they are very much “histories of the present”.12 That is, although they display future rather
than present society, they are “not of course about the future, but really about the
present”13. “[E]xtending and extrapolating” from the present, they reveal our actions “from
a different angle and from a different place.”14 In doing so, dystopias and utopias are not
just “ways of imagining the future (or the past)” but also “concrete practices […] to
reimagine [the] present and transform it into a plausible future”:15
“Whereas utopia takes us into a future and serves to indict the present, dystopia
places us directly in a dark and depressing reality, conjuring up a terrifying future
if we do not recognize and treat its symptoms in the here and now.”16
Dystopian fiction is thus about the present. Moreover, the threat is very often society
itself. Dystopian fiction concerns itself with society and its shortcomings, thus
considering how society has become its own worst enemy. In such a way, dystopian
literature involves a social critique, pointing out the flaws of present society. Moylan and
Levitas thus take utopia to be defined by its ability to undermine the status quo.17
Ecocriticism and Dystopia
Such brief sketches already suggest fertile ground for a formulation of dystopia as
ecocriticism. 18 Ecocriticism involves social critique, and it harnesses the catastrophic
possibilities of environmental disaster to foreground flaws in present society. It often
rightly holds humans to account, thus viewing human society as a threat, both to itself
and to non-humans. And it is undoubtedly about the here and now, with “the “eco”
[…being] more aesthetic, ethical, and sociopolitical than scientistic.”19 As such, dystopia
is a form of social advocacy, ecocriticism “a form of environmental advocacy”.20 It is odd,
then, that ecocritical perspectives on dystopia are scarce.21 I wish to foreground such
11
Tilley & Prakash, “Introduction: Utopia and Dystopia Beyond Space and Time”.
12
Tilley & Prakash, “Introduction: Utopia and Dystopia Beyond Space and Time”.
13
Peter Firchow, The End of Utopia. 5.
14
Neil Gaimon, Introduction to Fahrenheit 451. 2013.
15
Tilley & Prakash, “Introduction: Utopia and Dystopia Beyond Space and Time”.
16
Tilley & Prakash, “Introduction: Utopia and Dystopia Beyond Space and Time”.
17
Levitas, The Concept of Utopia.
18
The flip may be equally interesting: re-conceiving ecocriticism such that it might be
communicated through the medium of dystopian fiction.
19
Buell, The Future of Environmental Criticism. Ch.1.
20
Kern, “Ecocriticism: What Is It Good For?”.
21
Consider for example Huxley’s work: ultimately, in spite of the obvious wealth of potential
ecocritical perspectives and analysis in Brave New World (as my essay hopefully reveals), Keulks’
1996 update to the bibliography of Huxley does not mention a single work which is ecologically or
environmentally focused, nor any that delve into Huxley’s presentation of nature. Moreover,
throughout the whole literature on Brave New World and Island I have found very few texts
4Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
approaches, considering them as key but underappreciated aspects of dystopian
literature tout court.
Consider that ecocritical perspectives are almost exclusively applied to overtly
environmentally focused texts. Surely, one might say, this is obvious? After all,
environmentally focused texts are the natural subject matter of ecocriticism… Of course,
I grant that environmentally focused texts undoubtedly lend themselves to ecocritical
perspectives. But a central tenet of ecocriticism is precisely that the environment is a
vital aspect not only of the whole world, society included,22 but also of all texts, for they
are all situated in place.23 As a result, I agree with Kern’s suggestion that “ecocriticism
becomes most interesting and useful […] when it aims to recover the environmental
character or orientation of works whose conscious or foregrounded interests lie
elsewhere.”24 Certainly, I think it valuable to plumb dystopian literature to consider how
environmental perspectives—and criticisms—seep into the dystopian social critique.
Doing so not only enriches our analysis of dystopian literature, bringing to the surface
previously underexplored messages, but also our conception of ecocriticism.
A green-print for the essay
Hence, I take up the aforementioned challenge to consider dystopia as a concrete
exercise of reflecting on the present and reshaping the future.25 I wish to match the
radical nature of certain schools of ecocritical thought to dystopia’s manifesto of “radical
change”. 26 And at the same time I wish to take seriously Kern’s suggestions (i) that
environment is omnipresent (although underexplored) and (ii) that ecocriticism is most
interesting in those works not overtly and solely of an environmental bent.
I specifically focus on Huxley’s dystopian/utopian texts, Brave New World and Island.27
This is particularly interesting given that credit for the flourishing of ecocriticism tends to
be attributed to Rachel Carson’s 1962 Silent Spring—the same year Island was published,
and 30 full years after the publication of Brave New World. Hence, I suggest that Huxley’s
work was rather avant garde.28 Let me, then, briefly sketch my primary texts.
considering such themes, and virtually none in depth. More broadly, where ecocriticism is applied
to dystopian literature, it tends only to be applied to ecological dystopia/utopia: literature that is
explicitly environmentally focused.
22
I discuss criticisms of the dichotomy between nature and society in depth later on in the essay.
If such a dichotomy is broken down, then it is clear that an analysis of society must involve
ecocritical analysis, and that in any criticism of society ecocriticism must be present.
23
Kern, “Ecocriticism: What Is It Good For?”.
24
Ibid. 260.
25
Tilley & Prakash, “Introduction: Utopia and Dystopia Beyond Space and Time”.
26
Ibid.
27
There are three reasons for this: firstly, spatial and temporal constraints. Secondly, Huxley as a
writer and human makes for rich ecocritical analysis and his works aligns well with my project of
recasting dystopia as ecocriticism. And finally, I believe both texts’ many critiques of society are
predicated on a more fundamental critique regarding humanity’s relationship with nature, whereby
we view nature as an externality—something apart from us, from which we are distinct.
28
Nevertheless, Buell rightly mentions the difficulty of pinning down precise beginnings, noting
that “the quest for an inception point can trap one in an infinite regress” (Ch.1). I do not argue that
Huxley’s works are the first ecocritical works, nor that my re-casting of them as ecocritical
5Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
The texts
In 1932, Huxley published Brave New World (henceforth, BNW), his most famous work
and one of the first and most prominent dystopian texts. In it, he presents a ‘utopian’
world which, it quickly becomes clear, is anything but a utopia. Huxley presents a society
that has given up truth for happiness; passion and pain for stability; and individuality for
community. These ideals have been programmed into the population through sleep
hypnosis repetitions and are perfectly encapsulated by the glib jingle: “COMMUNITY,
IDENTITY, STABILITY”.29 The world’s inhabitants have also overthrown the family and,
through societal adoption of mass eugenics, are born from test tubes into a strict social
hierarchy. Their society displays rampant consumerism, sex, and “boundless
consumption that keeps the wheels of production turning”.30 As a result, nothing means
anything, and inhabitants take pills of soma, a ‘happiness’-inducing drug, to resolve any
issues. Our protagonist, Bernard, visits the “Savage Reservation”,31 displaying “the life of
a primitive in an Indian village” in contrast to the “insane life in Utopia”.32 Afterwards, he
takes John, a young man from the village, back into their utopian world. John, armed only
with The Complete Works of Shakespeare, fails to adapt to the insane lifestyle while
Bernard and his friend, Helmholtz, opt out too.
In 1946, in a Foreword to a new addition of BNW, Huxley was asked whether, given
the choice, he would choose “the savage’s aspirations or […] the ideal of conditioned
stability”. 33 He replied “neither, but I believe some mean between the two is both
desirable and possible and must be our objective”. 34 Criticising the original, Huxley
explains that he wishes he provided “a third alternative”.35 Nevertheless, “rolling in the
muck is not the best way of getting clean”:36 hence he did not edit this into BNW. Huxley’s
third option, synthesising the better aspects of both worlds, was nevertheless realised
in his antidote to BNW: Island. Island, Huxley’s final novel, published just a year before
his death, is Huxley’s utopia. Will Farnaby, a cynical journalist who shipwrecks himself on
Pala, is taken under the care of its local inhabitants. Pala, however, sits on vast riches of
oil, which Farnaby hopes to exploit by selling them out to Imperial Britain—in league with
their capitalistically minded Rani and her son, Murugan. Over the course of the novel, we
simultaneously watch Will fall in love with the island and, just before he realises this, sell
it out. As Will is toured around the island and its social organisation outlined, we learn of
its blend of western science and Mahayana Buddhism. We also gain insight into the
somehow upsets Buell’s own categorisation which classes Marx and Williams as source material
and Meeker as the first ecocritic proper. I simply argue that Huxley’s work lies in a grey area of
ecocritical nascence wherein it was not fully formed but there were predecessors to be spoken
for. Huxley was not the first, but he was certainly ahead of the curve.
29
Huxley, Brave New World. 1.
30
Atwood, Introduction to Brave New World.
31
Huxley, Brave New World, 82.
32
Huxley’s 1946 Foreword to Brave New World. xlii.
33
Ibid. xxiv.
34
Ibid. xxiv.
35
Ibid. xxiv.
36
Ibid. xli.
6Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
spirituality of the islanders when Will reads the notes of the Old Raja. Will falls in love with
Susila, an islander, who helps him through past troubles, and he refuses to help the Rani
exploit the island any longer. It is too little too late, however, and we watch as the island,
lacking any military, is steamrolled by the greed of capitalist forces.
These brief sketches will serve for now; further details, as well as exposition of other
texts, will be included where relevant.
II. Nature is an island unto itself
In the Beginning
““Attention,” a voice suddenly began to call, and it was as though an oboe had suddenly
become articulate. “Attention,” it repeated in the same high, nasal monotone. “Attention.””
These are the opening lines of Island, presented as though emanating from a human. The
call to attention is repeated over and over, interwoven with Will’s flashbacks to a guilt-
ridden life in London, until it is revealed four pages later that the calls in fact come from
“a large black bird”.37 Within two sentences of the second chapter, it is disclosed that the
bird is in fact a mynah bird. It is significant that a bird is speaking and that the bird is
presented as human: in Island the false dichotomy between nature and (human) society
is broken down. The use of “attention” encourages its listener to pay attention to the
word itself: whence does it originate? When Will pays attention, he realises it comes from
an animal which acts as metonymy for Pala’s unification between man and nature,
environment and society. Nature is seen as part-and-parcel of society, and society as
inherent to nature: they are one.
The opening line of Brave New World lies in stark contrast, presenting “a squat grey
building of only thirty-four storeys”. 38 Where the opening line of Island regards and
emanates from nature, a bird, the focal point of BNW’s opening line is a societally-
induced artificiality: a building. The “squat grey building”, we learn in the second sentence,
is called “Central London Hatchery and Conditioning Centre”, the setting for BNW’s first
chapter. This sets up another juxtaposition in the openings of BNW and Island: the first
chapter of Island transports Will from traumatic remembrances of an artificial London life,
to the “here-and-now” 39 of nature-loving Pala. By contrast, the first chapter of BNW
transports a group of students—and, of course, the reader—through the “Hatchery and
Conditioning Centre” to the ultimate artifice: the bottling and decanting of babies. Island’s
opening foregrounds the triumph of unity; BNW’s beginning highlights the triumph of man
over nature.
These opening lines are also my opening lines, because they set the tone for this
section. What they reveal is the flawed relationship between humanity and nature,
wherein nature is viewed as externality. This is one way—but a key way—in which I wish
to explore in depth how dystopian literature, Island, and BNW might be recast as
ecocriticism. Nature, I want to argue, is salient throughout both Brave New World and
37
Huxley, Island. 11
38
Huxley, BNW , 1.
39
A favourite call of the mynah birds throughout Island.
7Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
Island, and their critiques of society. Not only is the environment an omnipresent setting,
but it seeps into literature’s themes, tone, character, and plot. I have already shown that
this is true from the very opening lines of text. And this is not unique to Huxley’s utopian
works: on the first page of Zamyatin’s We, arguably the first dystopia proper and “the
crucial literary experience” 40 for writers like Orwell, our protagonist quotes the State
Gazette: ““A thousand years ago your heroic forebears subjugated the whole of planet
Earth”.”
The opening of We is the end of our story because it represents environmental
exploitation, destruction, reduction, and domination. This story of subjugation culminates
in D-503 (We’s first-person guide and protagonist) keeping a diary of the final victory of
man over nature—a diary D-503 explicitly compares to an epic poem, highlighting the
myth of progress that hangs over society like a spectre. Zamyatin’s piercing critique of
society could not more closely align with the ideals of ecocriticism: one crucial ecocritical
manifesto, entitled The Dark Mountain Project (which I draw on heavil), angrily proclaims
that “the myth of progress is founded on the myth of nature”. 41 And therein lies the
beginning of our story, the idea of “our separation from” nature, which ”is a myth integral
to the triumph of our civilisation”.42 For once we are able to separate ourselves from a
constructed conception of nature, we can gain “growing mastery over a ‘nature’ to which
we no longer belong”. 43 “We have now subdued” the “primeval swamps” whence we
originated.44 It is this that allows us to weave a “story of human centrality”,45 and which
sustains the commodification and hence exploitation and subjugation of the environment
not only in We and BNW, but also in present society.
Drawing a very rough distinction between first- and second-wave of ecocriticism
foregrounds the repudiation of the distinction between nature and human society. It
interrogates the idea of pristine wilderness, so often treasured in earlier nature writing,
and where first-wave ecocriticism saw “environment” as “natural environment”, second-
wave ecocriticism takes seriously urban and degraded landscapes, alongside
considerations of environmental justice. 46 A mature ecocriticism thus considers the
“interpenetration of metropolis and outback”. 47 And where first-wave criticism pits
modernity against nature, second-wave ecocriticism sees nature as “inextricably
entwined with modernity”,48 both conceptually and pragmatically.
The depth of such a criticism should not be underappreciated: our very language
encodes the dichotomy:49 the meaning of “nature” does not encapsulate humans and
40
Clarence Brown, Introduction to We.
41
Kingsworth & Hine, “The Manifesto”. In The Dark Mountain Project.
42
Ibid.
43
Ibid.
44
Ibid.
45
Ibid.
46
Bennett, “From Wide Open Spaces to Metropolitan Places”. 32.
47
Buell, The Future of Environmental Criticism. Ch.1.
48
Heise, “The Hitchhiker's Guide to Ecocriticism”.
49
See for example Kunadu, Conrad (this publication) on the concept of the “Anthropole”. As in the
speech he gave for the launch of this journal edition, it is the notion of a neologism denoting the
unification of man and nature, rather than the term itself, that is of significance.
8Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
society, while “society” fails to capture the non-human world. “The very fact that we have
a word for ‘nature’ is evidence that we do not regard ourselves as part of it.”50 Thus,
discussion of the presentation of “?nature” is rendered incapable of escaping the
distinction one hopes to challenge. To adopt ecocriticism and the dystopian critique, we
must question the polarised presentation of nature and society. We must also adopt the
unity of nature and society in an ideal world, or utopia.
A fundamental problem for ecocriticism, then, is the dichotomy between nature and
man. In the beginning, there was man, and there was nature. Now, man reigns supreme.
This is the fundamental flaw in present society elucidated in the futures of dystopian
fiction. The Dark Mountain Project asks: “What new form of writing has emerged to
challenge civilisation itself?” It calls for “Uncivilised art” that “attempts to stand outside
the human bubble” and questions the way in which “we are unleashing” ‘progress’
“without sufficient thought, control, compassion or intelligence”. 51 Undoubtedly, more
such art is required, where “art” is understood in the broadest sense. Hence, a new form
of writing remains a requirement. But we must also look to the past, to view Huxley’s
writing as a profound challenge to civilisation itself, and a call to heed rapid technological
and societal development without accompanying moral development. Such a call is
echoed in Russell, who, responding to overly optimistic visions of the effect of science
on the future, defends traditional morals, fearing that technology would outpace us—and,
wings melted, we would end up like Icarus.52
De Geus traces challenges to modernity, progress, and civilisation (as The Dark
Mountain Project calls for) through works from More’s Utopia to Huxley’s Island.53 Island,
then, has already been earmarked as ecocritical; I shall thus consider ecocritical
perspectives on the dystopian tradition of ‘island’. Indeed, I suggest this, alongside the
notion of escape, provide one way in which, as Garforth suggests, “utopias can respond
to and articulate lack”.54 In doing so, they can “articulate a world that is not relentlessly
separated into nature and culture, humans and environment.”55
Nature as Island
The dichotomy of nature and humanity is a pitfall of earlier nature writing, when writers
would ‘escape’ to a pristine wilderness, untouched by humanity. The same dichotomy is
embodied in dystopian literature in two key ways: the island, and the escape—sometimes
both.
50
Kingsworth & Hine, “The Manifesto”. In The Dark Mountain Project.
51
Ibid.
52
Russell, Icarus, or the Future of Science. Huxley’s BNW was inspired greatly by the exchange
between J.B.S. Haldane and Russell. The former, writing Daedalus, or Science and the Future,
argues that science and his accompanying dreams are “the answer of the few to the demands of
the many for wealth, comfort and victory”. In response, Russell’s Icarus, or the Future of Science
warns us to heed the lesson of Daedalus and Icarus, and to tread carefully. Russell’s words are
echoed in The Dark Mountain Project, prioritising compassion and control rather than science and
‘progress’. Or, to put it another way, beware the brave new world (!).
53
De Geus, Ecological Utopias. See also Garforth, Green Utopias. ch.2.
54
Garforth, Green Utopias. Here, Garforth draws on Levitas, The Concept of Utopia.
55
Garforth, Green Utopias.
9Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
The concept of the island is one which is necessarily isolated and alienated. This
means that the island concept lends itself to the embedding of the discussed false
dichotomy. Consider, for example, the title of Brave New World, which comes from
Miranda’s exclamation in The Tempest, “O Brave New World…”, as her insulated, magical
island is all-of-a-sudden infiltrated by humans. Similarly, John the Savage retreats to his
own island but is gawked at and ultimately hangs himself. Such cases exemplify the
aforementioned problematic distinction: society ‘invades’ nature, and those living within
it. In doing so, the invocation of the island concept suggests that nature can only exist in
a form that is cordoned off from society, untouched by man. Nature is an island unto
itself.
This aspect of the dystopian critique mirrors socio-political criticism of the myth of
pristine wilderness. For example, Cronon suggests that US environmentalism adopts an
ideal of landscapes untouched by human beings which necessarily conceives of nature
as externality.56 Indeed, such difficulties plague notions of conservation and the ideals of
protected areas and parks.57 But ‘pristine wilderness’ is a construction, concealing the
historical relations between human and nature; historically, the concept of wilderness as
sublime and sacred was used to justify the displacement of native inhabitants.58 As a
result, consideration was given to environmental justice and its relation to social and
racial injustice on the basis of (i) access to natural resources; (ii) exposure to
technological risk; and (iii) exposure to ecological risk. I think the application of the ‘island’
concept in dystopian literature draws out these points neatly, displaying the problem of
conceiving of nature as an island, or wilderness.
To return to the idea of island once more, we can see another link between dystopian
literature and the re-evaluation of the value of pristine wilderness. In the ideals of first-
wave ecocriticism and its nature writing, “aesthetic appreciation” was a “class-coded
activity”.59 Primarily, privileged white men ran off to their country homes to escape the
troubles and tribulations of life in urban areas.60 Not only did this exclude certain classes
from environmental thinking, but, worse still, it ensured that middle- and upper-classes
were insulated “from the most brutal effects of industrialisation”. 61 This insulation—
exemplified by the dystopian concept of ‘island’—“has played a crucial role in
environmental devastation”.62 This is mirrored in The Time Machine,63 where evolutionary
processes crystallise class distinctions, leaving the Morlocks not only most affected by
industrialisation, but also as labourers alienated from the more frivolous Eloi.
Huxley’s Island provides the perfect foil to the idea of ‘nature as externality’. That Pala
is an island does not suggest that Huxley thought of nature as external to society—
56
Cronon, 1995.
57
See more about this fascinating topic in an insightful article (this volume) by Scatchard, Suli.
58
Cronon, 1995.
59
T.V. Reed. 151.
60
T.V. Reed. 151.
61
T.V. Reed. 151.
62
T.V. Reed. 151.
63
Wells, The Time Machine.
10Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
primarily, because society, unified and ‘at one with’ nature, is part of the island too. We
must also ground this concept in the context of the novel’s plot: the world beyond Pala
is inevitably closing in, attempting to conquer it for its natural resources. Pala is a utopia
with the full double-meaning: it is no-place because the deep pessimism in Huxley’s novel
suggests an island like Pala could never exist, and even if it could, it would never last,
gobbled up by the insatiable appetite of capitalist consumerism. Hence, that the eutopia
(‘good place’) is set on an island tells us simply that a society unified with nature is itself
othered and externalised by the world-at-large, and hence will be exploited, dominated
and destroyed too. Huxley’s utopia thus does not merely abstractly criticise the nature-
society dichotomy, but also condemns the practical reality: the destruction of those
places which transcend this dichotomy.
Nature as Escape
There are, however, parallel cases of privileged white men running off to an island to
escape nature in BNW: consider Bernard and Helmholtz’s self-imposed exile to Iceland
as a way to escape the insanity of society. This pinpoints an interesting but
underexplored critique built into BNW: Bernard and Helmholtz become symptoms of a
society that is simply unable to comprehend unifying nature and society. As a result, they
are only capable of conceiving of a life in nature as one exiled from society.
Such examples of island wilderness escapes are bolstered by quasi-island
wildernesses. Consider, for example, the Savage Reservation in Huxley which is literally
fenced off from and so explicitly juxtaposed with Lenina and Bernard’s Fordian world.
Bernard, doubting Lenina, tells her that not only will the Reservation lack the ““Sixty
Escalator-Squash Courts”” she so loves, but there will also be “no scent, no television,
no hot water even”.64 Lenina replies: ““Of course I can stand it. I only said it was lovely
here because… well, progress is lovely, isn’t it?”” 65 This represents the societally
promoted contrast between the Savage Reservation (whose very name undoubtedly
ringfences it as ‘different’) and their ‘normal’ society, particularly relevant given the
manner in which the Savages come closer to living with nature. But it also demonstrates
the worldview that flows from such a dichotomy: progress involves the human triumph
over nature. Indeed, Bernard goes on to “wearily” mutter that such ideology flows from
sleep repetitions,66 effectively conditioning humans into buying into this ideal of progress.
This is the sort of progress embodied by Zamyatin’s OneState, which desires to ““unbend
the wild curve, to straighten it out to a tangent—to a straight line!””67 When nature is
viewed as externality, the myth of progress so despised by the ecocritical Dark Mountain
Project is promulgated. And from this myth flows the suggestion that nature is a resource
of only instrumental value, a means to be exploited. Unsurprisingly, this instils ideologies
that aim to tame, subjugate and destroy the natural world.
64
Huxley, BNW. 86.
65
Ibid. 86.
66
Ibid. 86.
67
Zamyatin, We. 4.
11Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
But nature is not separate from society, as ecocritical perspectives emphasise. Which
means that when society, so conceived, suppresses and oppresses ‘the natural world’, it
does so in a way that simultaneously suppresses and oppresses human society. In such
a way, we can reconstruct the dystopian critique: many of dystopia’s condemnations of
society partly flow from the more fundamental challenge to the nature-society dichotomy.
That Huxley instils the idea of ‘progress’, amongst others, in BNW’s inhabitants via sleep
hypnosis enhances this charge: society has brainwashed itself and, in doing so, harmed
itself. Consider this in the context of the distinction I sketched earlier between dystopia
and science fiction: where the threat in science fiction is external, in dystopia it is
internal—society itself. Once we rightly break down the constructed boundary between
society and nature, we acknowledge that, in dystopia, the society-nature unity becomes
its own enemy. Environmental destruction becomes the focus of dystopian literature, and
its threat to humanity (often as a result of anthropogenically induced environmental
disaster) is an enemy-from-within—the dystopian enemy. And since nature is not apart
from society, we cannot escape to it.
This is particularly worrying in light of the most subtle of dystopian critiques, found
particularly in Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 and BNW: that society led itself to disaster. It’s
not that some authoritarian regime enforced the separation and eschewal of nature upon
us, but that we have entered into it willingly. In Fahrenheit 451, the idea of society leading
itself into subjection and dehumanisation is symbolised by society burning rather than
reading books. Significantly, we are told that ““‘the firemen are rarely necessary. The
public itself stopped reading of its own accord.”” 68 Analogously, we have chosen to
separate and shun nature and hence not only to destroy the world we occupy, but also
to lose our humanity. This is one way in which an ecocritical perspective allows us to
learn from (dystopian) literature. Hence, we must reorient our relationship with nature
before it is too late.
Something comparable to the ‘island’ notion can also be found in Orwell’s 1984,
exemplified by Winston and Julia’s “brief escape to an enclave of rural harmony”69 and to
their secret hide-out in a room above a store in the prole district. Interwoven are ideals
of passion and sexuality, as Winston indulges in the sexuality repressed in him by the
Party. This plot point, like much of 1984’s plot, is greatly inspired by if not lifted from
Zamyatin’s We.70 In We, as Orwell puts it, “sex life does not seem to be at all messy” but
when the narrator “falls in love […] with a certain I-330” he becomes embroiled in an
underground resistance which not only indulges in love and passionate, “messy” sex, but
also “such monstrous sins as cigarettes and alcohol”.71 The common thread is that the
68
Bradbury, F451. 113.
69
Stableford, Ecology and Dystopia.
70
That Orwell was influenced by We is uncontroversial. It was published over twenty years earlier
and Orwell published a review of We two years before 1984, writing: “I finally got my hands on
Zamyatin's book ‘We’”. He even suggests that “Aldous Huxley's Brave New World probably owes
some of its origins to this book”. See: https://orwell.ru/library/reviews/zamyatin/russian/r_zamy
71
See above. If the similarities to 1984’s plot do not already jump off the page, consider that the
narrator’s rebellion is ‘cured’ such that he hands over his accomplices, including I-330, to the
12Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
suppression of individuality and repression of the depth of the human experience can be
escaped by retreating to nature, or to a place of isolation. In We, this is represented by
“the Ancient House”, which leads to the world outside the Green Wall that hems in the
city-state. Outside, the narrator finds human bodies “covered with short glossy fur”.72
This represents the convergence of humas and nature which, since it is found outside
OneState, represents the freedom and very humanity that is so valuable to us, as is also
revealed in the dystopian critique of BNW and its Savage Reserve. The image of fur is
further represented by the persistent description of I-330’s hands as “shaggy”, 73
associating rebellion, freedom, and nature. Indeed, the use of “Green Wall” suggests that
green is separate from and opposed to society: something to be forcefully locked out.
This critique, encapsulated by I-330’s revolutionary call to “demolish this Wall, all walls,
so that a green wind may sweep all across the earth”,74 mirrors that of ecocriticism.
The narrator’s travel to the Green Wall allows an appreciation for and awareness of
the non-human world. Taking an “aero” to the Green Wall while asking “where do these
strange feelings come from?”, he describes “the dense thicket of air, the transparent
branches whistling and whipping”, “the light-blue blocks of ice” and waiting for a “rush
whirling” river bank to burst.75 Implicit, of course, is the suggestion that return to the
natural world allows a phenomenological appreciation of nature, an embodiment in the
here-and-now. Later, when he finally goes beyond the Green Wall, he describes “the sun”,
“all sharp fragments, alive somehow” and “the trees”, “like candles sticking right up to the
sky, or like spiders squatting on the ground with crooked legs, or like silent green
fountains…”. 76 As he unveils the artificiality of the world he has always known, he
experiences for the first time “something disgustingly soft, yielding, alive, green, springy”:
grass—and he is “deafened” and “choked” by the “dizzying, leaping network of green”.77
Zamyatin thus inverts tropes, suggesting that greenery stifles humans—in doing so,
Zamyatin litotically damns human domination of nature.
The awakening of natural appreciation in D-503 is reflected in Montag at the end of
Fahrenheit 451, when he escapes to a wilderness that “ultimately provides a refuge for
the last custodians of literary value”.78 Montag’s escape allows him to notice “the dry
smell of hay blowing from some distant field” which in turn reminds him of “a farm he had
visited when he was very young” and prompts him to listen all night “to distant animals
and insects and trees, the little motions and stirrings”.79 Montag, “alone in the wilderness”,
police, and watches calmly “as they torture I-330 under a glass cover, pumping air out from under
it”. Given that these are Orwell’s words, it is clear that the tropes of escape to nature, resistance
through love and sex, suppression through torture, and conquering human nature derive from
Zamyatin.
72
Zamyatin, We. 150.
73
See, for example, Zamyatin, We. 138.
74
Zamyatin, We. 151.
75
Zamyatin, We. 114-115.
76
Zamyatin, We. 148.
77
Zamyatin, We. 149.
78
Stableford, Ecology and Dystopia.
79
Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451. 182-183.
13Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
remembers a moment when “he had discovered that somewhere beyond the seven veils
of unreality, beyond the walls of the parlous and beyond the tin moat of the city, cows
chewed grass and pigs sat in warm ponds at noon and dogs barked after white sheep on
a hill.”80 Freed from the constraints of the book-burning society, Montag can grasp reality,
remember the past, bathe in nature, and live in the present. Zamyatin’s “Ancient House”,
like Winston’s hide-out and Montag’s “look of the country”, 81
invokes historical
reminiscence, contra the march of progress: escape to isolation and return to nature
frees one from the myth of human superiority and progress and allows one to live in the
here-and-now. Ecocritical perspectives allow us to reveal how commentaries on themes
like history and temporal grounding are predicated on a society’s conception of nature.
This leads me to my next section, ‘The Birds and the Bees’, which not only translates this
method to the themes of animals and sex, but also explores further the anathematic
ramifications of viewing nature as externality, employing an ecocritical analysis of
dystopia.
III. The Birds and the Bees
When nature is viewed as externality, it is commodified, tamed, and subjugated. But it
also entails that society banishes the non-human world from society, for society defines
itself as being apart from non-humans. Simultaneously, society views the subjugation of
non-humans as a necessary aspect of its progress. Hence, Zamyatin’s OneState, on the
first page, claims to have ““subjugated the whole of planet Earth”” and, later, D-503
decides to find a way of “eating up, of crushing down, that square root of minus one.”82
That which does not fit the rational mould—that keystone of humanity, which historically
was used to justify human superiority and dominance—is othered and crushed.83 I first
consider the conquest of human nature through the lens of sex, the reduction of nature
in the presentation of bees, and finally the link between bird imagery and freedom; or,
the birds and the bees.
Hence dystopian literature critiques the fact that society must be devoid of nature.
Related but conceptually distinct is the indictment of human instrumentalisation,
exploitation, and domination of nature. In “the relentlessly unnatural and just as
relentlessly industrialized” BNW, this is undoubtedly true.84 Consider the dismantling of
the family, the triumph over sexual feelings, human determined production of babies and
conditioning of children and adults, the stamp of non-natural hierarchy on humans, and
a society filled to the brim with artificialities. In each of these dystopian horrors, one
cannot help but read a deep longing for a society that embraces and integrates nature,
acknowledging humans’ place within it, not without. This is the very same deep longing
that characterises a great deal of second-wave ecocriticism and ecocriticism more
generally.
80
Bradbury, F451. 182.
81
Bradbury, F451. 184.
82
Zamyatin, We. Record 8.
83
Historical use of reason to justify separation and dominance of humanity.
84
Atwood, Introduction to Brave New World.
14Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
One branch of the tree of ecological thinking is that of deep ecology, which advocates
for “a fundamental break with the dominant humanist traditions of Western philosophy
and culture since the Enlightenment”.85 It promotes a radical re-structuring of society,
resulting in a society reintegrated with nature, whose description by Garforth is strikingly
similar to that of Island:
“Imagine living in a small community which is largely self-sufficient in food, fuel
and shelter. Things are produced for need, not for growth and expansion, using
small-scale technologies and renewable energy to conserve natural resources
and limit environmental impact to a minimum. You know your local landscape
intimately—the names of the trees, the nuances of climate, the current state of
the nearest watershed—and have close relationships with neighbours. You rarely
travel very far. Wherever possible, decisions are made at the lowest level and
people play an active part in local politics. Hierarchical systems of power are
limited; so are markets and commodity production. No-one has much, so material
inequalities are fairly small; everyone has the right to flourish and blossom in their
own way, so a liberal model of social justice should prevail. You have much, much
less stuff and shopping is limited, and you work hard. But your work will be
personally fulfilling and socially useful and you may work for much less time than
in contemporary societies. You will have more time and more opportunities for
self-development through spiritual practices, education, arts, culture and
personal relationships.”86
I will go on to consider the ways in which dystopian literature shares the emphasis on
personal development and spiritualism, but for now note the overlap with Island’s societal
structure. Pala is a self-sufficient small community with no lofty goals of expansion and
which harnesses small-scale technologies and renewable energy to minimise
environmental impact. They know their natural environment well—as exemplified by their
relationship with the mynah birds. Their society is almost anarchic and vehemently
repudiates material attachment, while prioritising personal flourishing. All their work is
personally fulfilling and socially useful, freeing up time for other activities.
This is not coincidence: deep ecology was partly inspired by Huxley, even by Island.87
So this novel may well be the best and most thorough exploration of transforming deep
ecological values into a full society. In doing so, Island offers unique insight into how a
society integrated with nature might work. The following three sections discuss the
treatment of nature that underlies this.
Sex
In this section I discuss how the othering of nature leads to the suppression of human
nature, artificially supplanting it. A stark contrast can be found, for example, between
BNW’s highly artificial sex and the natural sex embodied in the tantric ideals of the
85
Garforth, Green Utopias. Ch.3.
86
Garforth, Green Utopias. Ch.3.
87
Sessions, The Deep Ecology Movement: A Review. See e.g. 107, 109, and 121.
15Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
Palanese. Discussing the possibility of having sex with a commodified Lenina, Henry
Foster suggests she is “wonderfully pneumatic”, a word that brings to mind
industrialisation and machination, and is elsewhere in the novel applied to “sofas” and
shoes.88 Even Lenina describes herself as such, after which Bernard explicitly notes that
she portrays herself “as meat”.89 By contrast, when Will asks how the intellectual and
spiritual act of love which the Palanese relish leads to enlightenment, Radha (a young
nurse) tells him to “listen”: doing so, he hears the mynah bird with its call to “Attention!”;
the key is awareness.90 The sex of BNW, however, stifles awareness and anaesthetises
its inhabitants. When Helmholtz talks of “cutting all […] my girls”, Huxley suggests the
“physical shortcoming” produces a “mental excess”, and Helmholtz hints that it has
allowed him to experience genuine meaning and explore his true self.91 Sex, therefore, is
commodified and becomes “pneumatic” in that it is itself hollow and renders humans
vacuous. Sex thus serves the conquest of human nature and individualism to ensure
stability.
The commodification of sex in BNW is manifested in the jingle “everybody belongs to
everyone else”,92 the talk of “having” Lenina, and the existence of “sex-hormone chewing
gum”. Indeed, it is a common trope in dystopian literature; in We, “our historical Lex
Sexualis was proclaimed: “Each cipher has the right to any other cipher as sexual
product.””93 Once commodified, sex is either reduced to a form devoid of love, passion,
and feeling, as in BNW, or suppressed. In BNW, “the duality of reason and passion is
explicitly out of balance. There is no emotional passion whatsoever.”94 This gap is filled
by John and his penitent cult which “run[s] riot with all the impulses and forces that the
World State […] must repress and banish”.95 This suppression of love, sex, and passion is
also embodied in We, as “the OneState began an offensive against […] Love. Finally, even
this natural force was also conquered, i.e., organized and mathematicised.”96 As a result,
sexual partners are determined by the state via pink tickets and programmed into their
daily timetable. For the same reason, in 1984 “[t]he sexual act, successfully performed,
was rebellion. Desire was thoughtcrime.”97 Lenina, too, throws herself at John, finally able
to feel—but still she can only recognise the romantic, not the sexual. Sex thus provides
a lens through which to understand the repression of human nature and the natural world
itself.
That artificiality reigns supreme in BNW results from the need for stability, “the primal
and the ultimate need”.98 Allowing human emotions and free will to flow freely is messy,
threatening stability; hence, their very humanity is scourged. This mirrors the irrational
88
Huxley, BNW. 42; 59.
89
Ibid. 45.
90
Ibid. 78.
91
Ibid. 59-60.
92
Ibid. 104.
93
Zamyatin, We. 22.
94
Izzo & Kirkpatrick, Huxley’s Brave New World: Essays. Introduction.
95
Hartouni, Cultural Conceptions.
96
Zamyatin, We. 22.
97
Orwell, 1984. Book 1, Chapter 6.
98
Bradshaw quoting Huxley, Introduction to Brave New World. xxii.
16Ecocriticism in Dystopia / Dystopia as Ecocriticism
square root D-503 wishes to tame. Such tangled difficulties cannot exist in BNW, which
needs (a veneer of) perfection, as represented by its horror at Linda’s old age. Therefore,
nature too must be steamrolled. The natural world is a weed, and the World Controller is
the perfect gardener. The inability to deal with difficult elements, weeds that stick out,
intersects with the need for perfection. The result is a hyper-rational society: the same
hyper-rationalisation that has been used to justify human superiority and has been called
into question by ecocriticism, which considers how “instrumental rationalism” controls
“the nonhuman environment”.99 This “cult of rationality”100 has tamed nature, as Sexton
says,101 echoing the triumph of reason over passion and nature in We as they “unbend
the wild curve, to straighten it out to a tangent—to a straight line”.102 Ecocritical readings
of dystopia teach us that we should instead embrace the weeds and the greenery.
However, the steamrolling does not stop there, and deprives humans of their
vulnerability and passion, rendering BNW’s inhabitants vapid. It is this that John rallies
against, claiming that “nothing costs enough here” and condemning the “whisk”ing away
of everything that is worth anything.103 Such feelings are instead artificially induced, or
suppressed. This is most obvious when considering the most primal natural aspects of
humanity, some of which peek through BNW’s veneer. For example, Fanny continues to
feel “rather out of sorts” and hence is offered a “Pregnancy Substitute” to suppress her
natural instincts.104 Similarly, women capable of reproduction undergo a “Violent Passion
Surrogate. Regularly once a month. We flood the whole system with adrenin. It's the
complete physiological equivalent of fear and rage. All the tonic effects of murdering
Desdemona and being murdered by Othello, without any of the inconveniences”—indeed,
all too convenient.105 In short, they feed the biological need for feelings without actual
feelings to threaten stability. They have also overcome another primary of the natural
domain—old age:
“All the physiological stigmata of old age have been abolished. And along with
them, of course… all the old man's mental peculiarities. Characters remain
constant throughout a whole lifetime."106
Again, that which sticks out is quickly suppressed and irrationalities “square[d]”,107 the
imperfections of old age eradicated and the effect of nature undermined. They even
conquer death itself: ““they recover […] More than a kilo and a half per adult corpse.””108
Where Huxley hones in on control of human biology, Orwell and Zamyatin focus on the
conquest of the human mind in the form of Room 101 and the “Great Operation” which,
99
Buell, The Future of Environmental Criticism . Ch.1. See also Fox, Toward a Transpersonal
Ecology, whose deep ecology calls into question the idea that human rationality separates us from
nature, and insists that “there is no firm ontological divide in the field of existence” (194).
100
Plumwood, as quoted in Garforth, Green Utopias. Ch.3.
101
Sexton, “Brave New World and the rationalisation of industry”.
102
Zamyatin, We. 4.
103
Huxley, BNW. 211; 29.
104
Huxley, BNW. 32.
105
Huxley, BNW. 211.
106
Huxley, BNW. 47.
107
Zamyatin, We. Record 8.
108
Huxley, BNW. 63.
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