Tag Archives: violence

The Subject and the Self in Don DeLillo’s Zero K

“But am I who I was”

                                                              – “Does it matter?

Don DeLillo’s novel Zero K follows the protagonist, Jeffrey, to the deserts of Central Asia in an underground facility called the Convergence that promises to relive humankind from the problems of mortality. After a conversation with his estranged father and billionaire Ross Lockhart, Jeff learns that this is going to be achieved by cryogenically freezing bodies in pods in an attempt to “reduce death to a cultural artifact” (DeLillo) so that the individual may achieve a “pure self” – unmediated by historical processes and entrenched conceptual categories.

At the heart of the Convergence, however, lies a sort of ideological violence.  The readers realise at the same time as the narrator does, that “the dead do not sign up before hand and then die […] They come here to die.” (DeLillo, 96) The escape from mortality then, is necessarily only available through its antithesis. However, death followed by the promise of a more advanced sense of self is not simply a ‘choice’ to “fill in the blanks on the application form” (DeLillo, 76), as the ‘Stenmark’ twins –the brains behind the operation-want the audience to believe. It is pregnant instead, with a politics of control that strips individuals of any agency and leads them to emerge as subjects.

The Convergence claims to deliver the promise of organised religion, “life ahead, beyond the last breath” (DeLillo, 64) without the overt acts of “submission, obedience and worship,” (DeLillo, 65) but it operates through the same structures of authority and power and exerts ideological control through ‘belief’ the way any ideological apparatus does. The audience is free only in so far as they have the illusion of a choice, but they are already saturated by anthropocentric fears and desires that the Stenmarks tap into and that allow the Convergence to exist in the first place. There is no empirical evidence throughout the novel to convince those entering the pods that they will ever come out of it ‘alive’ yet they enter them, funnily enough, to be “born into a deeper and truer reality [where the] senses (thus empirically measurable phenomena) will have to take precedence” (DeLillo, 46). But it is not after the Stenmarks market immortality that the audience chooses to believe it and becomes interpolated subjects – They chose to believe it, precisely because they already are subjects. Belief in the absence empirical proof is the necessary precondition of ideological violence to be able operate upon individuals and collectives. Much like

 “the Christian believer who does not believe in Christ because he has been convinced by theological arguments but is susceptible to theological arguments because he is already illuminated by the grace of belief” (Zizek).

This is precisely why Stenmarks (largely) succeed in their operation –they present the idea of a ‘post-ideological’ society that is convincing enough because of its inherent lack, its impossibility and thus its infallible success. For “in a universe in which all are looking for the true face beneath the mask, the best way to lead them astray is to wear the mask of truth itself.” (Zizek)

Ideology also operates through surveillance and the excess of simulacra on the screens. There would be something overtly perverse and almost redundant if the images were of past instances of destruction around the world. Instead they show what could happen to those who do not choose to enter the pods. Merely the threat of a future characterized by a lack of control is strong enough to enable visual representation to motivate desired choices. Jeffery wonders at different points in the novel if there are hidden cameras in the facility that monitor the way bodies function. The policing of the body reaches its logical extreme in the pods with the human body “enters a machinery of power that explores it, breaks it down and rearranges it […]and produces subjected and participated bodies” (Foucault).

Bodies atomised

The Convergence not only sells the idea of immortality through ideological violence but, I would argue, it is also inherently capitalist in nature – operating through alienation and objectification. It is not death but the pods that systematically decentralize socially formed identities resulting in a vague form of stream of consciousness that cannot establish its sense of self because recognition by the other is a necessary precondition for man to constitute himself. The bodies are not just separated and atomized but the re-affirmation of Cartesian dualities is so strong that the ‘consciousness’ cannot be certain of the existence of its own body as an ‘other’ against which it could metaphysically justify its existence. These dualities are further established when Jeffery learns that in certain instances the brains are separated from the body to be “colonised by nanobots” (DeLillo, 71). Moreover, any semblance of the self that might emerge out of the pods is completely at the mercy of the Convergence, so much so, that the narrator wonders if what they are looking towards is a “controlled future, men and woman being subordinated, willingly or not, to some form of centralized command” (DeLillo).

Woman inside a pod

Throughout novel the narrator feels the need to assert his presence and defend himself. This is most obvious when he is in his room saying the name of everything he sees out loud. But “language is constituted by difference” (Derrida), something that DeLillo forces the readers to confront when the narrator recalling his childhood explains how every word in the dictionary only deferred him to the other – then there exists no inherent meaning in signifiers, it is completely symbolic. Interestingly, one of the aims of the Convergence is to access “a language that will help [humankind] express what [it] can’t express now” (DeLillo, 72) and combat its “structural redundancy”. Once inside the pod however, Artis’s ‘consciousness’ struggles to come to an understanding of the self through language, through words, as she tries to ‘see the words’. However the Convergence threatens both Jeffery and her with a radical erasure of identity. It functions as the site of the collapse of the universal boundaries of spatiality and temporality- while Jeff finds himself spatially isolated and experiences temporal blurs, Artis’s body inside the pod, exist ‘outside history’ (DeLillo). The spatial-temporal imbalance no longer allows the self to constitute itself through language because the familiar reference points that construct symbolic order are no longer available. Identity loses itself in the perpetuating gap between the signifier and the signified and the self is no longer complicit in its existence. The question then, that I suppose DeLillo wants his reads to ask is that is whether it is possible to have a ‘pure self’ without knowing what it means to exist.


DeLillo, Don. Zero K. Picador 2016

Derrida, Jacques. Writing and Difference. Routledge Classics 2001.

Foucault, Michele. ‘Disciple and Punish’. The Foucault Reader. Edited by Paul Rabinow. 1991.

Hawkes, David. Ideology. Routledge. 1996.

Zizek, Slavoj. The sublime object of Ideology. Verso, 1989.

Photo Credit

Image 1

Bodies Frozen in Pods


Image 2

Eleventh Hour- They Freeze Only Heads, by



Violence on the Black Body: Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me acts as a memoir to the suffering of the black masses in America.

In Coates’ writing of the National Book Award Winner Between the World and Me, he does not hold back on showing his anger at the livelihood of a black man in America, highlighting the dangers and stresses he has personally faced as one in the mass of people victimised in America. This anger percolates each sentence in his letter addressed to his son Samori. Coates uses the epistolary form effectively, telling of the differences between Coates’ own youth and upbringing and that of his son, and yet there is a constant insecurity of being black in contemporary America – something that Coates doesn’t see changing.

Ta-Nehisi and son Samori Coates
Ta-Nehisi and son Samori Coates in the summer of 2013.

A defining point in his son’s education of the ongoing history of the ill treatment of the black people in America is the injustice surrounding the shooting of Michael Brown, believed to have been surrendering to the police before being shot six times. Coates states:

That was the week you learned that the killers of Michael Brown would go free. The men who had left his body in the street like some awesome declaration of their inviolable power would never be punished. It was not my expectation that anyone would ever be punished. But you were young and still believed. (Coates, 11).

Coates furthers upon his argument by averring that he “didn’t hug you… comfort you, because [he] thought it would be wrong to comfort you. [He] did not tell you that it would be okay, because [he had] never believed it would be okay.” (Coates, 11). In directly addressing his son, and the reader, Coates delivers his view on the injustice that permeates American society. His frank declaration on the objectification of the black body – that which has never been, isn’t and never will be secure – highlights the mentality of the black male (or female) as one with a rendered sense or lack of identity, powerless to the white aggressor. Henderson recognises the power of America’s coloured past acknowledging that “the legal and social discourse of slavery created a national language for the propagation of mythological half-truths and socially sanctioned phobias about African men. Their progeny, descendants of this legacy, inherited a birthright unlike any other group.” (Henderson, 139). These phobias relate to Coates’ writings on the commodification of the black body as something that does not belong to the rightful owner. Coates recalls an incident in his childhood of a “light-skinned boy with a long head and small eyes” (Coates, 19) who by holding a gun was also “holding [Coates’] entire body in his small hands” (Coates, 19). Coates’ identity is stripped away from him as he is reduced to a tool or a weapon. Coates’ mind-set equates his black body with the gun in someone else’s hands.

Coates reiterates to his son the perils of living in America as a black man, by reminiscing the past of America, i.e. slavery. With a lack of identity and knowledge of his suppression, Coates reclaims control over what little he can, as:

We could not control our enemies’ number, strength, nor weaponry… But whether you fought or ran, you did it together, because that is the part that was in our control. What we must never do is willingly hand over our bodies or the bodies of our friends. (Coates, 69).

Here Coates shows the overwhelming force against the black body as singular and definitive. Yet he believes in the community of black individuals that are brutalised together. Furthering this, he personifies slavery as a “particular, specific enslaved woman, whose mind is active as your own, whose range of feeling is as vast as your own.” (Coates, 69). By personifying slavery itself, Coates shows how each person in the black diaspora of slavery was an individual, and “not an indefinable mass of flesh” (Coates, 69). Coates echoes the idea that “Black people’s humanity is a fairly new discovery,” (Jackson, 9) by linking the past of slavery with the current treatment of the black body in today’s society. He creates a living link between those who suffered and died in slavery and those of today who are still suffering and dying by oppressors. Coates’ writing acts as a memoir to the past, present and in his eyes future suffering of the black people in America.

Coates argues against the treatment of the black body by highlighting the way actions of another will be irrevocably placed on his son, as he informs his son, “you must be responsible for the worst actions of other black bodies, which somehow, will always be assigned to you.” (Coates, 73). Here he shows the mentality of his oppressors that remove their individual identities in favour of a systematic ‘white and black’ duality. This duality of ‘us against them’ is a fragment of the “historical continuity here that speaks to the perpetuation of the white racist imago of the Black body, where there is an attempt to ontologically truncate the Black body into the very essence of criminality, danger, suspicion” (Yancy, 7). The black bodies that Coates speaks of are never shown in a positive manner but inherently negative. His son shall carry the burdens (and the worst) that other black bodies have carried out. In Coates’ teachings to his son, the modern blanket term of ‘white people’ see no positives in the black body. Coates furthers his argument by stating that “race is the child of racism, not the father” (Coates, 7) and that white people are “a modern invention” (Coates, 9), a term that has “no real meaning… [as] the new people were something else before they were white – Catholic, Corisican, Welsh, Mennonite, Jewish” (Coates, 9).  Coates undermines the base argument of racism through his condemning of the term ‘white’. If ‘white people’ are in fact something else such as Catholic or Corisican, then black people can be for once seen as human.


Coates, Ta-Nehisi. Between the World and Me. Melbourne, AU: Text Publishing Co, 2015.

Henderson, Carol E. Scarring the Black Body: Race and Representation in African American Literature. Columbia, US: University of Missouri Press, 2002.

Jackson, Ronald L. Scripting the Black Masculine Body. Ithaca, US: SUNY Press, 2006.

Yancy, George. “White Suturing, Black Bodies, and the Myth of a Post-Racial America.” ARTS, vol. 26, no. 2, 2015, pp. 5-14.

Photo Credit

Image 1 found on:

“Ta-Nehisi Coates: ‘In America, It Is Traditional to Destroy the Black Body’.” The Guardian. Guardian News and Media, 20 Sept. 2015. Web. 27 Feb. 2017. <https://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/sep/20/ta-nehisi-coates-between-the-world-and-me-extract>.

Also found in:

Coates, Ta-Nehisi. Between the World and Me. Melbourne, AU: Text Publishing Co, 2015. Pg 148.