The Prisoner: The Schizoid Man

“The Schizoid Man” led me to reflections on my youth.  The nominal theme of the episode is not so much individualism as individuality.  Number Six’s guardians find a man who looks just like him, start calling him Number Six, and try to convince the real Number Six that he himself is an imposter.

In a way, society steals all of our identities just as the guardians stole Number Six’s.  Number Six is the classic rebel, set at odds with society, wanting nothing from it and seeking only his own freedom.  Like him, we begin life rashly and impetuously, rebelling against authority and vowing eternal animosity to Number One, or as we might have it, “The Man”.  But as time goes on, we find that we want things, that we’re willing to compromise our animosity for some bread.

The process is sometimes called maturation, but it is as much the death of one individual as it is the completion of another.  The rash individuals, the impetuous youths, would never make the compromises that their older, more mature selves make.  The arguments of the social machinery are compelling.  First, there is status, wealth, and all the feminine accoutrements that come with them.  Then, there is security and peace, not just for oneself, but for children – there is nothing that makes a man appreciate the status quo so much as children.  Finally, there is old age: we have worked hard all our lives, on the promise that others would take care of us later; now that later is come, and by gorm let law, order, and the social contract be upheld, but most of all, let us have our entitlements!

For some of us, sadly, we are not so riddled with greed that we cannot sense our own loss.  In this way, what pains Number Six the most during the guardians’ mockery is when his imposter is put to trial and tortured.  What really disturbs Number Six, I think, is to see someone else having won his position in the Village, the position of the rebel.  Similarly, during one of his countless escape attempts, a friend who betrayed Number Six during the charade, and played along with the guardians, comes up to him and begs his forgiveness, insisting that she would not compromise herself if she could do it all over again.

But like her, we almost always do make that compromise.  We give in to the Man, we take his money, and watch his television, and become passive and good.  We come to consider children, possessions, and fine things the goods of life, shackles though they may be.  We pity those of our friends who did not learn to make the compromise, the Number Sixes who never give up.  We pity them because they do not have the things that the Man has given us, and we do not share our things with them.

I have written all of this from the perspective of the rebel, but as I have asked from the outset of “The Prisoner”, what is the alternative?  Are not children and wives and fine things the goods of life?  And if we must purchase them from the Man with our freedom, is it better not to have the goods of life?  There must be some middle road, but “The Prisoner” does not show it to us; we must find it ourselves.

The Prisoner: Dance of the Dead

Note: This is yet another cultural production for which an understanding of Crito is essential.

“Dance of the Dead” concerns what happens when a free individual, unwillingly participating in a coercive society, breaks “the rules”.  Society – and its members – frown on rule-breaking.  In this episode, Number Six discovers a radio on the beach.  Possession of a radio is against the rules, and so the issue goes to trial, and culminates with an angry mob chasing Number Six through the Village headquarters.  The people are not pleased with a man who has been so bold as to shake the foundations of their society by breaking their rules.

The exchange in which Number Six confronts the observer who reported his possession of the radio lays out the major themes:

Observer: I had my duty.
Number Six: To whom?
Observer: To everyone. The rules. “Of the people, by the people, for the people.”
Number Six: Takes on a new meaning.
Observer: You’re a wicked man!
Number Six: Wicked?
Observer: You have no values!
Number Six: Different values.
Observer: You won’t be helped.
Number Six: Destroyed.
Observer: You want to spoil things.
Number Six: I won’t be a goldfish in a bowl.

The Observer is giving Socrates’ answer to Crito.  The Observer, just like Socrates, considers the rules an entity to which she owes higher duty than any person or individual whim.  She considers the breaking of the rules to be an assault on them.

Unfortunately, “Dance of the Dead” does not answer this Socratic argument.  Number Six asserts that his values are different, and that he wishes to preserve his individualism.  Later, when he is literally on trial for possession of the radio, he mocks the shallow, artificial nature of the proceedings.  He questions the legitimacy of the legal forms, particularly the fact that his defense is given by his nemesis, Number Two.  But nowhere does an argument appear for the prerogative of the individual to break rules at will.  Even if the trial is a sham, if the mechanisms of justice are corrupt, does that mean that every rule is subject to the judgment of every individual?  Surely not.

Perhaps the answer that “The Prisoner” seeks to provide is to an earlier stage of the Socratic argument (and an earlier episode).  Yes, an individual in contract with society cannot break the rules, assault the laws, and seek to destroy society at will.  This would be most unjust.  But suppose an individual is not in contract with society.  Socrates assumes this contract; he says it is implicit in an individual’s decision to remain a participant in a society.  But suppose there is no alternative; suppose the citizen is, in fact, a prisoner.  A prisoner by definition does not enter into contract with his guardians; he is held against his will precisely because he will not acknowledge the law of the guardians that he is to be imprisoned.  In this case, perhaps the law, or the rules, are subject to the judgment of the individual.

But are citizens of modern society prisoners or willing participants?  Indeed, the sole alternative to participation, for both Socrates and Number Six, appears to be anarchy.  Number Six’s response to the suggestion of anarchy is “Here, here!”  This is unsatisfactory; anarchy does not solve the problem of how to reconcile the freedom of the individual with his mandatory participation in a society.  The declaration that there is a contradiction between individual freedom and social order is not a serious intellectual position; it is a complaint.  Further exposition is needed.

The Prisoner: Free For All

In society, which is by nature coercive, is democracy a reasonable approximation of freedom?  Or can freedom be achieved by means of democracy?  Number Six learns the answers to both questions in “Free For All”.

At the outset, Number Six assumes that elections in the Village are a fraud.  Even a dictator holds elections, and the support for Number Two for leader seems overwhelming.  Besides, why should a prison (or a society) give its members the right to choose their own leader?  If one is forced to be in the Village, and forced to follow its rules, what meaning does the ability to choose a leader have?

Number Two persuades Number Six that this choice has deep significance indeed.  The winner of an election can advance his own agenda.  By holding office, Number Six could promulgate his ideals of freedom and independence.  Number Two also remarks that elections are good for morale; people like to have a choice.  In a way, this advantage is the same as the first one.  Elections make Number Six and other individualists happy by giving them a chance to run for office and advance their agendas, but elections also satisfy other people’s urges toward individualism by allowing them to vote.

Phrased this way, both advantages appear deeply cynical, because they are both concerned with keeping people happy.  What is important is not true freedom, but the appearance of freedom.  Once the election is over, Number Six defeats Number Two in a landslide, but finds that he can’t use his power to change anything.  He gets access to Number Two’s office (because he is the new Number Two), but it’s just filled with buttons that make chairs appear and cameras that survey the Village.  Number Six tries to use the speaker system to declare everyone free and start a general escape from the Village, but as soon as he does, men in uniform appear and subdue him.  In short, the one thing he desires, freedom, is not achievable even once he is the leader.  His platform of individualism makes him unfit to lead, because of the inherent contradiction between individualism and the leadership of a coercive society.  The election was not designed to provide him with freedom, and it was not designed to let him advance his objectives.  It was designed to make him THINK he could advance those objectives – freedom and individualism – within an unfree system.

“Free For All” also satires the media, which play a large role in propping up the illusion of choice in democracy.  As soon as Number Six declares his intention to run for office, the journalists bombard him:

Journalist: How are you going to handle your campaign?
Number Six: No comment.
Journalist (writing): ‘Intends to fight for freedom at all costs.’  How about your internal policy?
Number Six: No comment.
Journalist (writing): ‘Will tighten up on Village security.’

The media are not concerned with Number Six’s thoughts; they are determined to seize upon their preexisting knowledge of him or any shred of information he provides to make an interesting story.  When he refuses to comment, they put words into his mouth; when he says something, they change it.  They are inevitably, necessarily distorting.  This is an oft-repeated grievance, but the frequency of its repetition does not excuse the behavior.  The media are the tool by which the benefits of election – the illusions of choice, debate, and freedom – disseminate to the people.

The Prisoner: Arrival

“Arrival” lays out two themes that will dominate “The Prisoner”: first, it is a social allegory; second, the setting, “the village”, is the perfect prison.

It is in the context of a social allegory that the behavior of the village’s leadership, represented by Number Two, makes the most sense.  Number Two wants to know why Number Six, the protagonist, played by Patrick McGoohan, resigned from his job as a secret agent.  Number Two stresses that Number Six will never be able to leave the village; he must simply cooperate, tell them what they need to know, and life could be very nice.  By allegory, society demands the submission of the individual.  In return for submission to the arbitrary authority of society, the individual receives comfort, and “may even be given a position of authority”, in Number Two’s words.  The problem with the arrangement is that the choice is illusory.  Number Six is stuck in the village, and we are stuck in society.  The village is in fact a prison, and so is society.

The elements of this perfect prison are fascinating.  First, we never find out anyone’s names; there are only numbers.  In this way, the people are de-individualized.  (The numbering of people is clearly also a social commentary.)  Second, the prisoners cannot identify each other.  Any supposed prisoner may be a guardian posing as a prisoner.  Because of this, the prisoners’ ability to trust is destroyed.  Number Six is betrayed in the first episode by three people: his maid, a former friend posing as a prisoner, and that friend’s aggrieved lover, who appears after his death.  Third, escape is impossible.  There are substantial physical barriers to leaving the village, and a vicious white… something… can chase down anyone who gets too far.  Fourth, since escape is impossible, attempts to escape are permitted, because they reinforce to the prisoner the futility and hopelessness of his situation.

But is the situation so hopeless?  If society is a prison, what is freedom?  Anarchy?  The wilderness?  One suspects that whatever the alternative, we would almost always choose the prison of society.  The central question then, is not whether society is justified in imposing itself upon us, because this does not matter.  We are prisoners, and no alternative exists.  The central question is how best to reconcile this fact, the coercive nature of participation in society, with the preservation and freedom of the individual.  We desire not the perfect prison that is the Village, but the most imperfect prison that can be imagined, something quite the opposite of the Village.