The Answer is Work?

My favorite place where Candide travels is Voltaire’s utopia “El Dorado”. In this kingdom there are no prisons, everyone is kind, money is not a priority, and instead math and technology are in the spotlight. Candide, the most naïve optimist, finds this place and is at awe with it. This utopia is not struck with thieves and violence, but instead with thinkers and intelligence. It’s also noteworthy that at this point in Candide’s travels he is without both philosophers (Pangloss and Martin). In this perfect land there is no need to focus on a life that is better or worse than the one he is presently living. It is also interesting that he does not meet the pessimistic philosopher, Martin, until after he leaves El Dorado (a very rich man might I add) that he is faced with such pessimism. Voltaire is suggesting that if people focus on the things that could possibly benefit society, like advances in math and technology, instead of money and war, then maybe life would be better off.

                Shortly after Candide encounters Martin he talks to him about all of his hardships in his search of finding Cunegonde. He asks the philosopher: “Do you believe,” said Candide, “that men have always have been liars, cheats, traitors, ingrates, brigands, idiots, thieves, scoundrels, gluttons, drunkards, misers, envious, ambitious, bloody-minded, calumniators, debauchees, fanatics, hypocrites, and fools?” (55) Of course Martin’s answer is a sarcastic one and the answer summed up as a yes, men have always been all of those things. Voltaire’s answer is that yes men are horrible and will continue to be horrible, but in order to survive they must use their minds and work. In order, to obtain that utopia “El Dorado” where there is innovation and thinking, one must “cultivate their own garden” as we were meant to, being sons (or daughters) of Adam. 

A world where all is well

Candide is constantly searching for the world Pangloss promises him. This search lands him in a lot of trouble, and his friends and traveling companions are constantly dying and falling into bad situations because of him. When Candide is exiled from the Baron’s castle, he is described as being “driven from terrestrial paradise” (3). This recalls Adam and Eve being expulsed from the Garden of Eden, and Candide is now left to wander lost and hungry. Through Candide’s misadventures, it becomes clear that Pangloss's unrelenting optimism is not a correct view of the world, instead it is a view that makes Candide much more susceptible to misfortune. However, when Candide enters El Dorado (“the golden” in Spanish), it seems he has found another Eden. Material wealth is abundant in El Dorado, so much so that it is worthless. The landlords with whom Candide and Cacambo dine tell them they “doubtless have not the money of the country,” but nevertheless do not expect payment from the two men (42). Candide and Cacambo conclude that the country they are in must be one “where all is well; for there absolutely must be one such place” (42). The adventurers are then brought to an old man who used to be a member of the king’s court. He explains that it was ordained long ago that none of the inhabitants would be allowed to leave the kingdom, which has “preserved [their] innocence and happiness” (43). The geographic location of El Dorado has also protected them from the voracious greed of the outside world. This peace ensures the happiness of all the citizens. Even in the case of religion, they are “all of one opinion” (44).

Riches are worthless to the citizens of El Dorado because they do not interact with the outside world. El Dorado's very name shows the emphasis that the outside world places on wealth. This is seen again when Candide leaves the city with a large amount of gold and precious stones. Candide leaves this Eden, not only because of his love for Cunegonde, but also because he realizes that if he remains in El Dorado, he and Cacambo “shall only be on even footing with the rest […] whereas if [they] return to [their] old world […] [they] shall be richer than all the kings in Europe” (46). This thought process shows the greed caused by a lifetime of conditioning in the old world that has been instilled in Candide, as well as his and Cacambo's insatiable need for travel and change. Although Candide is always looking for a place “where all is well,” he seems to greatly dislike stability if it means that he is not able to get what he wants. His misadventures after leaving El Dorado can be seen as a warning against greed, as his assembled wealth make him and his companions targets for many people. El Dorado seems like a utopia for Voltaire, a world where everyone is relatively equal and can devote themselves to the betterment of the human race (exemplified by the scientists that Candide and Cacambo meet). The citizens of El Dorado all seem free to pursue their own happiness as well, with the exception of not being able to leave the country. Candide and Cacambo leave a seemingly perfect Enlightenment environment in favor of a world fraught with inequality, unhappiness, hypocrisy, corruption, and instability.

"Voltaire, hair. I would personally like to learn about Voltaire"

Immediately when I saw that we would have the opportunity to read Candide, I thought about the quote from The Princess Diaries and so coming up with a title was quite simple. Aside from my frequent film references, I appreciated the chance to learn about Voltaire's satirical style and ability to inform and criticize, while simultaneously entertain. Voltaire casts religion, politics, and philosophy in an extremely unflattering light and the result is a very candid observation about the folly of human nature.

First, there is the direct criticism on the ridiculousness of optimism. Voltaire is mocking the idea prevalent during the Enlightenment era that there exists a perfect God, and that if someone sees imperfections in the world, it is because he or she cannot and does not understand God's greater plan. The basic notion of the Enlightenment is that God is perfect in every way and He has thought out everything that will occur in the world. The irony is that Pangloss and Candide witness multiple mutilations throughout the novel, including floggings, rape, disease, an earthquake, and unwarranted executions. By the book's end, Candide and Pangloss are forced to come to the conclusion that maybe a perfect God does not exist. To carry that idea even further, maybe there is no God at all.

The next area of study that Voltaire mercilessly criticizes is philosophy, and the utter uselessness of philosophical speculation. In this chaotic world where one character drowns, and another lies trapped under a pile of rubble following the earthquake, Pangloss decides to meditate on the reasons for the catastrophes, rather than take affirmative action. Jacques could have easily been rescued, but Pangloss chooses to think about the justification for the drowning and event, as opposed to simply pulling him out of the water. This is ironic given Voltaire's reputation as a noted philosopher. However, this novel clearly points out that sitting around and idly thinking is useless; action is what matters.

Finally, religion is obviously skewered in this novel as we see its blatant hypocrisy presented through multiple characters. The Pope, who is supposed to remain celibate, has a daughter, a Catholic Inquisitor keeps a mistress, and numerous religious leaders carry out oppressive and inhumane campaigns against those considered "non-believers." Basically, Voltaire chose the perfect name for this novel; he is candid in every respect and almost nothing escapes his satirical gaze.

Candide and Honesty

I was struck by Candide's name in Candide. The narrator quickly clarifies that he might have been named Candide because he is "quite honest" (Voltaire 1). I found this fascinating because it seems to be a very obvious attempt to have the reader establish immediate trust in Candide's view of the world that is then undermined by referring him as "extremely simple-minded." Furthermore, it is immediately apparent that Candide cannot be trusted because he believes everything that his teacher, Dr. Pangloss, tells him. He truly believes that "everything is necessarily for the best end" (Voltaire 4). While obviously comedic, Candide's trust of everything an authority figure says to him may also be a commentary on the dangers of honest, simple-minded people. Candide receives ample evidence against Dr. Pangloss's teaching including Dr. Pangloss's own fall from glory in Chapter 5. 

I find Candide's name interesting as well because ultimately the social commentary throughout the book is candid. Voltaire has Candide travel the world (Old and New) and laughs and criticizes it all. There is nothing that escapes his criticism, from the Jesuits to war to royalty. The work doesn’t attempt to hide these criticisms so much as reveal them through Candide and through a writing style that captures everything but feels childlike at times as everything is simply presented as the narrator sees it. The style speaks again to Candide’s own simple view of the world and to the honesty with which a simple person sees everything. Much of what Candide accepts because others have told him to do, we question because it doesn’t make sense. This reminds the reader of the many ways the world does not make sense and brings into question how we respond to the many injustices and inconsistencies in our society. 

Philosophy in Candide

In Candide, Voltaire is satirizing Europe of the Enlightenment age through a philosophical lens. He presents two radical philosophical ideas in the work, neither of which is particularly well thought out. Pangloss represents the eternal optimist and Martin represents the cold and calculating pessimist. Throughout the tale, readers see Candide bounce back and forth between the two extremes, struggling to come to terms with the tragedies that befall him during his travels. Like Candide at the end of the novel, Voltaire argues, one should decide to “cultivate [his] own garden” (87).

The novel’s main character, Candide, is faced with many trials over the course of his travels. Along the course of the story, he is presented with radical optimism by his boyhood philosophy teacher, Pangloss. The main idea of Pangloss’ way of thinking is that “things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for all being created for an end, all is necessary for the best end” (Voltaire 1). Candide believes this for most of the novel despite it being completely false. While the idea that “all is for the best” is a comforting one, it is simply untrue (Voltaire 2). Bad things happen to people, and sometimes there is not a good reason for why the bad things happen. Telling victims of a natural disaster that there is nothing else that could have happened and that the disaster was actually for the best may be comforting, but it is not true. An exponential amount of other things could have happened that may have turned out to be more beneficial for the people of that town, but the disaster is what happened and there is nothing anyone can do about it. This form of philosophy leads to the idea that ignorance is bliss.

If no one thinks about why things happen to them, it is easy to assume that whatever is happening is what is supposed to happen. This denies people the right to agency and free will. It allows people to commit crimes without anything holding them back since whatever happens is for the best.  In fact, it is under this delusional idea that Candide justifies killing people in order to have Cunegonde for himself (Voltaire 21). Eventually, Candide realizes how unreliable this philosophy is when he sees a negro servant in a terrible condition after being subjected to extreme physical punishment while being left outside to wait for his master (Voltaire, 49).

 Once he decides that his old teacher’s methods will not work, Candide needs a new philosopher to latch onto. At this point, he elects to lean on the teachings of Martin. Martin claims to be a “Manichean,” or one who believes that only good and evil are at work in the world, and that each force is equally as powerful (Voltaire 53, note 20). This philosophy is also limited in scope. It only allows for a black and white view of the world, which is not conducive to explaining the trials and tribulations Candide goes through over the course of the novel.

While discussing the purpose of the creation of the world, Martin argues that men cannot change their character, much like a hawk cannot not eat a pigeon (Voltaire 55). While one may be able to defend this argument using a priori knowledge, it falls apart when viewed using a posteriori knowledge. This is the first time Candide seems to be thinking for himself. He figures out that Martin’s argument is flawed when he brings up the idea that men have the ability to behave in different ways due to free will while animals cannot.

When Pangloss is reintroduced to the story after being revealed to be alive, Candide spends a good amount of time pitting the two philosophies against each other only to come up with another idea altogether. At the end of his quest for happiness, Candide decides that the best option is to just “cultivate [his] own garden” (Voltaire 87). He comes up with this idea after seeing an old man farming his own land. This man claims that the work keeps him safe from the evils of “weariness, vice, and want” (Voltaire 86). When Pangloss tries once again to assert his philosophy over Candide’s, Candide gently brushes him aside saying, “All is very well, but let us cultivate own garden” (Voltaire 87). He does not try to convince Pangloss of his ideas; he merely tells him that they are best keeping to their own. This may very well be the entire point of the novel. As long as one can come to his or her own conclusions through the use of reason they are capable of avoiding the evils of “weariness, vice, and want” and finding true happiness.

Gender and Sexual Identity in Twelfth Night

Today gender and sexuality is constantly a topic brought up within society. What is gender? How does it differ from sexual orientation? These questions along with several others are asked by many as we dive into the topic of gender and sexuality. Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night happens to spark those type of questions even though it was written centuries ago. For instance, Viola is cross-dressing as a boy, yet the Duke falls in love with her or is it her male persona. It is true that Viola is true to herself the entire play even dressed as a guy, but there are several inclinations that it could be possible that her relationship with the Duke more began when he was unaware of her being a girl. I guess it honestly depends on how the reader interprets the play. I feel like it doesn’t really matter. Regardless if the romance actually started when Viola was pretending to be a man or not is irrelevant. For some, this concept is difficult to understand. However, to me it is a very simple one. Love is genderless. It should not make a difference if the love is between two men it’s still love.

I was lucky enough to take two interesting classes (which strangely coincided with one another, not on purpose either) dealing with gender and sexuality last semester, that I feel really helped me see this play in a different light. Last semester we discussed in both my gender studies and LGBTQ theater class that there is such thing as “the umbrella” where many of the labels we in society give to ourselves and others fall under. There are many labels and often times it is a little overwhelming to understand which each one means. There are a lot of specific labels to truly capture one individual. Many people are not afraid to explain their own identifiers though, and all you have to do is ask the question. Choose not to be ignorant, instead ask questions and educate yourself on those terms. 

What You Will: Gender and Sexuality

Sebastian’s final lines in Shakespeare’s Twelve Night sums up the play’s central conundrum: 

“You would have been contracted to a maid;

Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived,

You are betroth’d both to a maid and man.” (67).

On its surface, the play shows the confusions, struggles, and silliness of romance, and a love that the ancient Greeks called a sickness, infatuation, through the themes of identity and gender. However, dealing with these themes, there is an underlying question presented throughout the play, particularly about sexuality and gender and identity. The implications the content and conclusion of this play suggests raises questions about gender being the focal point of judging one’s sexuality, especially through Viola disguised as Cesario and through the conclusion of the play.

Viola is perhaps one of the most famous gender-bending character of all English literature. Her disguise as a male servant, under the Duke, defies all the conventions on its own. What is interesting about this concept is the emphasis on clothing to differentiate the genders. While Viola wears the clothes of a man, she fools all the other characters around her into thinking that she is a man: she succeeds in making a woman fall in love with her, Olivia, and become “bros” with the man she loves. For the first few lines she meets Sebastian again in the very last scene, she even has her own brother believe she is some long-lost cousin, which she, though happily, must prove she is his sister nevertheless. Before the Duke is convinced of her true identity as a woman, he must see her in her “weeds” (67) and still calls her Cesario, her male alter-ego, until he sees her in “other habits [she will be] Orsino’s mistress and his fancy’s queen” (71). The emphasis on Viola’s clothes not only hides her true identity and gender, but also almost obscures the truth underneath those clothes, almost obscures her true gender and identity and makes them as flexible, as changeable, as the different clothes she wears.

If Viola’s disguise implies gender as a superficial identity, as the clothes she wears, then the ending of the play, where the characters swap lovers, forces a question of sexuality. Ironically, the only character out of the four main lovers in the end to remain consistently in love with one person of the opposite gender is Viola (perhaps Sebastian too, but his interactions with Antonio is questionable). Olivia fell in love with Viola as Cesario, but then, out of fortunate accident, she ends up marrying Sebastian (which touches upon a whole different issue); and with the Duke too, who was in love with Olivia for the whole play except in the last act, quickly changes his love toward Viola when she reveals she is a woman. The Duke’s strange and sudden confession of his love for Viola, without any hints or signs of romantic affection, begs the questions of whether he truly loves her and since when did he begin loving her. Had he felt something while he thought she was a man, he would not have been much confused and, I think, not accepted her love after he finds out she is a woman, if gender played a great role in his sexuality. Olivia, too, shows some fluidity with gender, though not as explicit as the Duke. One could say that she is a very vain character and only fell in love with Viola as Cesario because she flattered her (though not really). However, this is not how sexuality works: physical attraction plays a big part in romantic love, and gender is a big factor in how physically attractive a person is to another. In this perspective, one can view Olivia’s attraction to woman disguised as a man and then changing to a true male character as gender sexual ambiguity.

The questions about gender identity and sexuality is a big topic today, especially with the loud advocacy for transgender freedom and equality. It seems that, especially with the new movement to put transgender terminology into our everyday speech, we are met with such questions Viola’s disguise and the gender-switching lovers raises more frequently. But, on a deeper level, the questions about gender identity and sexuality is less about the physical, but more about the spirit. If gender is as fluid and changeable as the clothes Viola changes into, then what does that do to our spiritual identity? Some may interpret the end as a purer kind of love, because the characters are not so much focused on the genders or the physicality of their partner, but their spirit, their true identity. However, this also asks the question of whether gender is not part of one’s true spirit and identity also. If one turns away from gender as part of themselves, their love for themselves, to me, does not seem as full, as rich. The lovers at the end of Twelfth Night does not seem as full and genuine a love as it could have been.