Brave New Chore

When I was in high school I read Brave New World. A guy named Aldous Huxley wrote it. And he did a good job. For those of you who’ve never read it, the book basically tells the story of a utopian society in which people are built on assembly lines. These people have their destinies and livelihoods planned out for them. They have no parents or family units and essentially live to have sex, watch movies and use drugs (when not working). Some are built to run the world, others are built to clean it, and there are different levels in between.

When I was in college, I was once again assigned that book. (Side note: how awesome was it when a teacher would assign you a book that you already read? It was like being handed an A.) So I became pretty familiar with Brave New World as a result of public education.

After I graduated college, I went to Europe to stay with Then-Girlfriend, who was (and probably still is) German. And, oddly enough, one of her teachers assigned her that book. And, even odder still, her teacher asked me if I would come in and help teach the class. Her teacher said that because I was a native speaker of the land from whence the book came, my input would be valuable. I highly doubted that, but I went anyway.

One of the discussion questions in this class was actually a discussion question that I had been given in America, which didn’t really surprise me. The resulting discussion, however, shocked me.

The teacher asked, “Do you think the society in Brave New World was a good one, and why?”

And every one of these German students responded that yes, the society in Brave New World was a good one because every person was taken care of and was relatively happy and that was what was most important.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

The teacher saw the shock on my face and asked me to respond to the question.

“It’s a horrible society,” I said (at this point, Then-Girlfriend became red with the embarrassment her Neanderthal American boyfriend was causing). “They have no families, no love, no art—none of the things that make life matter. They’re not even free to choose how they live or what they do for a living. It’s an assigned life. And happy or not, they lack souls because of it.”

The class looked at me as if I was made of Laffy Taffy until the teacher responded, “I hear that is a very American response to this novel. But we Germans tend to recognize the importance of a system that works well.”

“In America,” I said. “We don’t really like being told what to do.”

A few days later, I asked Then-Girlfriend if she really thought that such a society would be a good one in which to live. Her response: “Yes. I think most people would rather not be burdened with the freedoms that you love so much. For many people, freedom is a chore.”

Damn socialists. They just don’t get it.