brave new world

As man has progressed through the ages, there has been,
essentially, one purpose. That purpose is to arrive at a utopian
society, where everyone is happy, disease is nonexistent, and strife,
anger, or sadness are unheard of. Only happiness exists. But when
confronted with Aldous Huxley\'s Brave New World, we come to realize
that this is not, in fact, what the human soul really craves. In fact,
Utopian societies are much worse than those of today. In a utopian
society, the individual, who among others composes the society, is
lost in the melting pot of semblance and world of uninterest.
In the science fiction book Brave New World, we are confronted with a
man, Bernard Marx. Bernard is inadequate to his collegues. So he
resorts to entertaining himself most evenings, without the company of
a woman. This encourages his individual thought, and he realizes that
independent thought is rewarding, and that he must strive to become a
real individual. Although this is true to a certain extent, Bernard
does not realize that he would much rather attain social recognition.
At least, not until the opportunity presents itself. Thus, through a
series of events, Bernard uses the curiosity of the society to his
advantage, fulfilling his subconscious wish of becoming someone
important; a recognized name in the jumble of society. This ends when
the curiosity of others ends, and as a supreme result of his arrogant
behaviour, he is exiled. The instigator of this curiosity as
well as the author of Bernard\'s fame (and folly), is an outsider know
as the Savage. The Savage is brought in from outside of the utopian
society by Bernard as an experiment. He faces "civilized
society" with a bright outlook, but eventually comes to hate it
bitterly. Lenina, the supporting role of the novel, is the most
pronounced example of the ideal citizen. She adheres to the principles
of the society without so much as a second thought. In the
utopian society that Huxley presents, everyone is happy. There are no
differences. Everyone is brought up to be happy, and most do not even
know what sadness or anger is. All is cured artificially through
surrogates or drugs. Even happiness alone is not unique to the
individual. Soma, the hallucinatory drug, the \'perfect drug\' that is
used by all, even induces the same kind of happiness. The only variant
is to what extent this happiness overwhelms the user (one or two
half-gramme tablets?). "Everybody belongs to everyone
else" (127) is the basic psychology of the society. This suggests
that an individual owes everything to society, but society in turn
owes everything to him or her. This applies to all. No one capitalises
on the efforts of others and no one performs excessive manual labour
for minimum wage. Everyone is the same. In Huxley\'s perfect
world, sex is a mundane undertaking. It happens to each individual
almost every night. And no one knows what marriage is. They simply
have each other and move on. All for one and one for all. Everyone is
the same in bed. The inhabitants of this society are not given
any sort of mental flexibility. If you spend time alone, or think, you
are considered strange, and are considered an outcast. Nobody wishes
for this, and so correspondingly nobody commits this unspeakable
crime. Everyone goes out at night with a different partner, or takes a
few grammes of soma and goes to bed for a soma-holiday. Nothing new,
nothing different. Each person of this society has a
predestined future. They all develop in their fetal stages inside a
jar, where they are provided with their needs, are vaccinated against
all known diseases. Also, special treatments are performed to aid in
the mental growth (or standstill) of the individual after \'birth\',
according to their future occupation. "The first of a
batch of two hundred and fifty embryonic rocket-plane engineers was
just passing the eleven hundredth metre mark on Rack 3. A special
mechanism kept their containers in constant rotation. \'To improve
their sense of balance,\' Mr Foster explained. \'Doing repairs on the
outside of a rocket in mid air is a ticklish job. We slacken off the
circulation when they\'re right