For fifteen years I taught a university course in Western Civilization. It began in the spring. The textbook I assigned my students began with the sentence, “Civilization was not inevitable; it was an act of human creativity.” After reading about our primitive ancestors’ advance from hunting and gathering to the agricultural settlements of the Neolithic Revolution, we studied the great ancient civilizations of Egypt and Mesopotamia.
By April, Rome had fallen and we were in the Dark Ages. Western Civilization had reached its lowest ebb. Hundreds of years of barbarism followed. But civilization did not completely die. It held on, in Kenneth Clark’s words, by “The Skin of Our Teeth.” In a little corner of the world, against all odds, some Irish monks were copying Bibles. This made possible a brief return to literacy during the Age of Charlemagne and this Carolingian Renaissance likewise made possible the rebirth of civilization ~ just in time for summer vacation. The course resumed in the fall with the rise of modern Europe, the scientific revolution, a couple of World Wars, and then ended the semester in the present. We had arrived.
George R. Stewart’s Earth Abides begins where my survey of Western Civilization ends ~ with what might happen next. Yet what I love most about this book is that it raises several philosophical questions about civilization in general and Western civilization in particular.
Civilizations die. There’s no doubt about that. And new civilizations emerge among the ruins of the old. Civilization may not be inevitable, but then again, as an act of human creativity, perhaps it is inevitable. Perhaps human creativity, sooner or later, will always lead to the rise of civilization. At any rate, it happens often enough to seem nearly inevitable. But whether civilization is inevitable or not, a second question arises: Is it desirable?
The book is divided into three parts. The first part is the story of the individual. Ish must adapt to a world suddenly bereft of civilization. Two themes appear in this part of the book:
1. Earth Without Man: As a shy intellectual geography student, Ish naturally assumes the role of observer. As such, he pays attention to the changes in the natural world following the demise of most of the human race. This part of the book is a fascinating account of a world reverting to nature: the overgrowth of vegetation, the crumbling infrastructure, the encroaching rust, wildfires, feral dogs, and rapid increases in the populations of ants and rats followed by equally rapid die offs. Interestingly, the disaster that decimated the human race was equally catastrophic to human parasites like lice and various diseases. Without human hosts, they faced extinction too.
2. The Balance Between the Individual and the World: Ish ponders the relationship between himself and everything that is not himself. As the world changes, he is changed; and as he changes, so the world is changed. It is an “equation” in which the two sides always strive for balance (p. 97). This theme becomes even more important in the second part of the book where the question is not about the individual but about society.
Stewart’s story-telling is realistic, so realistic that I found myself wondering what I would do if the “Great Disaster” were to happen. Being a bit of a hypochondriac, I would probably gather up every type of antibiotic the pharmacies had. I would also have to be much more careful with my reading glasses, lest I end up like Burgess Meredith in “Time Enough at Last.” And for safety and companionship, I would surely find myself some dogs before they all went feral.
There are so many ways a person could respond to such a crisis and Stewart provides a small but representative sampling of a few survivors.
a. The Drunk: Unable to cope with the situation, Mr. Barlow simply drinks himself to death.
b. The Dangerous Couple: A hostile man with a gun and his tawdry female companion have a predatory vibe and Ish retreats from them quickly.
c. The Frightened Teenager: The teenage girl runs away at the sight of Ish. He speculates about the perils of being a young woman alone in a lawless world.
d. The Hoarder: An old man collects everything he can get his hands on whether useful or useless.
Ish sees the hoarder as “essentially dead” (p. 34). The same might be said of the other survivors. These are the people who are so damaged by the shock that they have lost their humanity. They are the living dead ~ a phrase I can’t help but use here. Having seen my fair share of zombie apocalypse movies, I find the metaphor apt. These are the real living dead, the real zombies, the people who become withdrawn and psychologically dead.
Later he meets people who are faring better than these walking corpses. He decides to search for other survivors by driving cross-country from Berkeley to New York. What could be a more quintessentially American thing to do than to go on a road trip!
e. The Poor Farmers: In Arkansas, he comes upon a little group of Black farmers—a man, a pregnant woman, and a boy, all unrelated of course, who have a garden, small patches of corn and cotton, and some chickens and pigs. Having been poor before the “Great Disaster,” their lifestyle is not much altered. They are surviving and are not as likely to succumb to what Ish calls the “Secondary Kill”—the deaths caused, not by the pandemic itself, but by the lack of civilization’s conveniences.
f. The New Yorkers: In New York City, Ish meets apartment-dwellers Milt and Ann. They eat canned food, drink warm martinis, and listen to records on a wind-up phonograph. They’re nice people but they probably won’t survive the winter.
Having little experience of the world outside of New York City, I took to heart Stewart’s assessment of Milt and Ann and their prospects for long-term survival. Even with my stash of antibiotics, books, and dogs, I would probably end up no better than Milt and Ann. Like them, I’m a city-dweller, dependent on the city for my survival. Like them, I do not drive. But unlike Milt and Ann, I like to walk. So I might just kiss my books goodbye and start walking south.
But at least Milt and Ann have their wind-up phonograph. (Earth Abides was published in 1949.) Here I am in 2015 having upgraded from records to eight-tracks to audio cassettes to CDs to MP3s—all for this. A wind-up phonograph would be looking pretty good to me now. Instead I might have to dust off my guitar and toss it in the cart. In fact, I can see myself now, walking down the I-95, pushing a supermarket shopping cart full of antibiotics, canned food, bottled water, and doggie treats.
♫ Going down the road feeling bad ♫
But this is Ish’s chronicle, not mine.
Ish reflects that Milt and Ann’s way of life is the opposite of the poor farmers’ way of life. Milt and Ann are too “specialized” to adapt. Yet Ish says of them:
“It was a kind of make-believe. You pretended there was a world outside the windows; you were playing cards by candlelight because that was a pleasant thing to do; you did not trade reminiscences or talk of what you might think anyone would talk about under such circumstances. And Ish realized that this was proper and right. Normal people, and Milt and Ann seemed to be certainly normal, did not concern themselves much with either the distant past or the distant future. Fortunately, they lived in the present” (p. 73).
Although Milt and Ann “lived in the present” in the sense that they neither talk about the past nor plan for the future, they are actually living in the past. They’re living in a world of martinis and card games and phonograph records—a world that has died. Their way is “proper and right” not because it is a way to live but because it is a way to die. Milt and Ann have outlived their city. Nevertheless they maintain themselves and their world the best that they can and they do so with dignity.
All of the people Ish encounters in these first days and weeks underscore a theme that becomes prominent in the second part of the book:
3. The Difference Between Scavenging and Living Creatively: Unlike Milt and Ann, the Arkansas farmers are likely to survive. However, their regressive way of life is not ideal. Though they’re growing rather than scavenging, they’re not progressing. They’re at a stand still. They too are living in the past. This is symbolized by the cotton patch. They no longer need cotton, but they continue growing it because it is what they have always done.
Just as the first part of the book is the story of the individual, the second part is the story of the tribe.
Towards the end of part one there’s a powerful scene in which Ish watches the lights fade and eventually go out for good. “The Dark Ages were closing in” (p. 94). The line is wonderfully melodramatic, but it also provides a historical framework to the book. Traditionally the Middle Ages are called the Dark Ages because they are perceived as a period of stagnation. But the Middle Ages were not merely a thousand years of benighted barbarism separating the light of antique civilization from that of modern civilization. Much happened in those years to permit that light to be rekindled. And much will happen in the lives of Ish and his tiny tribe as they face the challenges of living in a post-apocalyptic world.
As Ish chronicles his life with the Tribe, he poses questions related to the main theme of the book:
4. The Problem of Civilization: People create civilization to better their lives, yet despite all the benefits of civilization, it also introduces new troubles. Man’s progress from the state of nature to civilization is a double-edged sword. Jean-Jacques Rousseau is one of the philosophers who have confronted the problem of civilization. In Discourse on the Arts and Sciences and Discourse on Inequality, Rousseau outlines a philosophy of history that may be relevant to Ish’s world.
a. The Noble Savage: This is the individual in the state of nature—solitary, happy, healthy, and good.
b. Nascent Society: This is the first form of society and, according to Rousseau, the best. It is a gentler life than that lived in the state of nature. This is the life of settled homes and the nuclear family. It is midway between the state of nature and civilization.
c. Pre-Political Society: This is where society starts to go wrong. The introduction of a social contract, division of labor, and private property lead to inequality, egotism, and greed.
d. Civilization: This is the artistically, culturally, and scientifically sophisticated society that inevitably becomes corrupt. Rousseau argued that the primitive innocence of the noble savage was morally superior to the great civilizations because great civilizations always decay due to cultural progress.
At the beginning of part one Ish is on his own. His life resembles that of Rousseau’s noble savage. Then he meets Em. They have a baby and the family is born.
“After all, he thought, the family was the toughest of all human institutions. It had preceded civilization, so it naturally survived afterward” (p. 170).
The Tribe in part two is a nascent society. This little group, seven adults and an ever-growing number of children, are happy. They scavenge from the remnants of civilization and they hunt the wildlife that have returned since the death of civilization.
There’s only one thing wrong with all of this, and it’s not really an issue for anyone except Ish ~ and me. There’s a big beautiful university library full of the knowledge—the art and culture and science—of our great civilization and he can’t get the children interested in learning to read!
Every time I heard myself thinking, “Ish, you’ve got to try harder. You’ve got to make them want to learn,” I soon realized that I probably could not have done any more than he did. The children weren’t interested and the other adults could not see how important it was for the children to be able to read.
I kept thinking, “they need to read books so they can become physicians and engineers, plumbers, electricians, and mechanics. They need to get our technology functioning again.” Yet in my imagination I saw myself standing before the children discussing history and philosophy, art and literature. I began to wonder, “What is it that I want so passionately to restore? I mean, of course I want hot showers and modern dentistry and a way to listen to my MP3s, but underneath these practical concerns is something much more abstract. It’s not just the comforts and conveniences of civilization that I want back. It’s our history, our cultural achievements, our art that must not be allowed to pass from the earth.” Thus Ish’s own reading list made perfect sense to me.
“Although he often thought that he should use his reading to make himself skillful in such fields as medicine and agriculture and mechanics, he found that what he actually wanted to read was the story of mankind. He plunged through innumerable volumes of anthropology and history, and went on into philosophy, particularly the philosophy of history. He read novels and poems and plays, which also were the story of mankind” (p. 132).
The younger generations, the children born after the Great Disaster, feel no connection to the human civilization that lived and died before they were born. But it’s not just intellectual knowledge that is being lost. Before the Great Disaster, George was a carpenter. When something needs to be repaired, it’s George who fixes it. He has more practical knowledge than anyone. Yet no one tries to learn carpentry from him. When he brings up the subject of rigging up a gas-powered refrigerator they likewise show no interest. Perhaps this is human nature. Ish observes:
“The boys, who had never known what it was to have ice, had no urge to make them go to the work of obtaining it” (p. 154).
I should do well to remember that these are all ordinary people. They’re not explorers or pioneers or inventors. They’re just regular folks who are getting along as best as they can and not doing too badly at it. Instead of acting, they react. Instead of doing, they make-do. When the toilets stop working, they dig latrines. Perhaps this is just human nature. And I don’t think the problem of civilization can be properly understood without some understanding of human nature.
Another example of human nature in action concerns religion. Ish’s hammer becomes a ritual object and Ish himself a god-like figure despite the Tribe being nonreligious ~ or perhaps because of it. Early on, the three adults who were religious (two Catholics and one Methodist) wanted church services, especially for the children, but the Tribe’s attempt at Church fell as flat as the attempt at school. Although Ish worried that superstitions might arise in a religious “vacuum” (p. 223), as a skeptic, he felt uncomfortable leading church services. Perhaps a need for supernatural beliefs is a part of human nature. But inevitable or not, superstitions did develop and ironically Ish himself was the focus of them.
This brings back that question of the relationship between the individual and the world:
“Again he wondered, as so often before, what really were springs of action. Did it come from the man inside? Or from the world, the outside” (p. 266)?
If civilization is not inevitable, then the Tribe might continue indefinitely at the stage of nascent society. Yet if pressure from the outside world is the catalyst for change, this hardly seems likely. Needs will arise which will have to be met. The Tribe has already had occasion to respond to a crisis by organizing as a body, as a “state.” Given enough time, they may build a new civilization. But would this be desirable?
Just as the death of most of the human race led to the end of many diseases, so the death of civilization led to the end of the problem of civilization.
“What a strange thing then is this great civilization, that no sooner have men attained it than they seek to flee from it” (p. 293)!
In the short third part of the book, Ish accepts the passing away of civilization. Nevertheless, given enough time the Tribe may build a new civilization which in turn will go the way of every civilization before it, repeating a historical cycle of rising and falling, rising and falling civilizations.
This cyclical view of history is reinforced by the Biblical book from which Stewart takes his title: Ecclesiastes. In fact, Ecclesiastes is the only Biblical book to take a cyclical view of history. The rest are linear. But the cyclical Ecclesiastes exists within the otherwise linear view of history of the rest of the Bible. Ish expresses it thus:
“‘History repeats itself,’ he thought, ‘but always with variations’” (p. 189).
Ish desires that the cycle of civilization not be repeated. The Tribe has a satisfying and successful way of life. Like Rousseau, Ish seems to have reached the painful conclusion that for all its sophisticated art, culture, and science, for all its suspension bridges and university libraries, civilization is founded on “slavery and conquest and war and oppression” (p. 344).
But the words that ring in my mind after finishing this novel are not those of Ish but of Em, who Ish so often called “Mother of Nations” ~ the epithet of the Biblical Sarah:
“Not by denying life was life lived” (p. 111).
There is creativity in Ish’s Tribe, in his grandchildren and great-grandchildren; there’s life and love of life, so there is hope for their future.