
Pronouns are okay, within reason. But…
Ayn Rand’s Anthem is a dystopian novella where collectivism has run so wild that individual pronouns are strictly prohibited, everyone shares the same terrible haircut, and ‘I’ is a word so taboo that uttering it could get you a one-way ticket to the nearest re-education center. The novella is a compelling, if slightly overcooked, allegory of the dangers of collectivism and the triumph of individualism. Or, as some might see it, a 90-page rant against sharing.
The story revolves around a character named Equality 7-2521, who is really quite unequal, as he stands out from his fellow citizens in every conceivable way. He’s taller, smarter, and has this dangerous habit of thinking independently. Naturally, in a society where everyone is supposed to be exactly the same, Equality 7-2521’s nonconformity is about as welcome as a fire-breathing dragon at a vegan barbecue.
Our protagonist stumbles upon a tunnel from the ‘Unmentionable Times,’ a period we can only assume was when people used personal pronouns and occasionally disagreed about things. Within this tunnel, he discovers the marvel of electricity and promptly decides that this, not fire or the wheel, is going to be his big Eureka! moment. Equality 7-2521 then creates a lightbulb, which, in this collectivist world, is about as revolutionary as someone inventing an iPhone in a community of people who still communicate via carrier pigeons.
When he presents his discovery to the World Council of Scholars, expecting to be hailed as a hero, he’s instead given a look usually reserved for someone suggesting that the Earth might, in fact, be round. His lightbulb, which symbolises knowledge and individual achievement, is viewed as a threat to the status quo, because in a world where everyone is the same, nobody gets to be Thomas Edison.
In the grand tradition of misunderstood geniuses, Equality 7-2521 flees to the wilderness, where he undergoes the ultimate form of personal growth: he learns the word ‘I’. That’s right – our hero stumbles upon the concept of individualism by discovering a pronoun. To top it all off, he renames himself ‘Prometheus,’ because apparently ‘The Man Who Invented the Lightbulb’ didn’t have the same ring to it.
Ayn Rand is not known for her subtlety, and Anthem is about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. The novella’s central theme is the conflict between collectivism and individualism, which Rand explores by creating a world where the collective good is valued over individual achievement. In this world, even having a preference for one job over another is considered a dangerous deviation. Imagine living in a society where everyone is so equal that they all must express the same lukewarm enthusiasm for both manual labour and, say, brain surgery.
Rand’s critique of collectivism reaches its peak with the portrayal of the World Council of Scholars, a group so dedicated to groupthink that they wouldn’t recognise a good idea if it hit them in the face. Which, incidentally, it does when Equality 7-2521 tries to present them with his lightbulb.
Equality 7-2521’s transformation from a dutiful cog in the machine to an individualistic beacon of self-interest is the novella’s core arc. His journey is like that of a rebellious teenager who decides that being different is more fun than blending in. Except in this case, the rebellion involves discovering the radical concept that one’s own happiness might actually matter.
His love interest, Liberty 5-3000, is equally rebellious, though her character development is somewhat limited. She pretty much exists to look at Equality 7-2521 with eyes that say, “You’re different, and I like that,” which in this society is practically foreplay.
Rand’s writing style in Anthem is stark and repetitive, much like the society she describes. The use of plural pronouns to describe individual actions is initially jarring but eventually becomes an effective way of conveying the oppressive collectivism of the world. However, by the time Equality 7-2521 has repeated “we” for the hundredth time, the reader might find themselves shouting “I get it!” at the book.
The novella is also filled with grandiose, almost melodramatic proclamations. By the time Equality 7-2521 finally declares “I am. I think. I will,” the reader might feel like they’ve just sat through the final scene of a particularly intense off-off-Broadway play.
Anthem is a novella that could be considered a powerful critique of collectivism or, depending on your perspective, a somewhat hyperbolic manifesto on the dangers of group projects. Ayn Rand’s message about the importance of individualism is clear and unwavering – perhaps a bit too much so. It’s a tale that reminds us that if you ever find yourself in a world where everyone is forced to be the same, the greatest act of rebellion might just be inventing a lightbulb and using the word ‘I’ without fear.
Ultimately, Anthem is like a dystopian version of a self-help book. It’s there to remind us that in a world full of ‘we’, it’s okay – nay, necessary – to embrace the power of ‘I.’ Just don’t forget to turn off the lightbulb when you leave.
I wonder if Lionel Shriver read Anthem before writing Mania. The idea is similar, except in Shriver’s book the stupid idea is that everyone is equal mentally. Mania was similar in that I felt I had gotten the message too, long before the story ended.
I’m amused by the characters who I assume are the rebels sticking to the same name styles, Liberty number whatever instead of Equality.
I was convinced I’d replied to your comment but wasn’t sure. I wanted to say that it was reading your review of Mania that reminded me I did have something written on Anthem, which had a similar ring to it.