"The Zombie as Sign and Symbol: a Semiotic Look at 'The Dollhouse'" -- by James Siburt, Alvernia University
Mr. Siburt started his presentation with a question: Do I matter, or am I just a cog in the machine? The zombie is a symbol of enslaved mindlessness, a symbol that some people fear, and others identify with. Often, if we don't agree with an organization, we think of its leadership as manipulative, and its followers as zombies. A zombie is defined as a person who no longer has the ability to think for themselves.
Mr. Siburt distinguished between two types of zombies: the zombies of Haitian voodoo, that are enslaved to do their master's bidding, and the zombies seen in George Romero films, which are part "traditional" zombie (in the voodoo sense), and part ghoul, as they have a taste for human brains and flesh. The symbol of the zombie often appears in sci-fi movies as an exploration of the mind-body theory of existence, including such ideas as the transference of consciousness. This idea is explored in the television series, "The Dollhouse." The basic premise is that this "dollhouse" is run by a company that fulfills desires for its customers, and does so by using humans who have had their consciousness "downloaded" and temporarily removed. Their consciousness is replaced by that of someone else, in order that they may go out and complete their task for the customer. It is considered ethical because the "dolls" have their consciousnesses wiped clean like a reformatted hard drive when they have completed their tasks. If they are not conscious of what they have done, they are not responsible for it, and eventually they get their original consciousness back.
"The Dollhouse" explores the question of whether or not the body exists without consciousness--the ultimate exploration of Cartesian dualism. The symbol of the zombie raises the question of personhood. Mr. Siburt questioned why this symbol (or any) sticks in our culture, and cites Eco's comment that you can't understand the forest by looking at a pile of sticks and leaves--you need to look at the trees and surroundings as a whole. Zombies are symbols because they provide a metaphorical analogy (something that signs don't do). Zombie films, games, and literature have been steadily on the rise since George Romero's film "Night of the Living Dead," though interestingly, Romero never referred to his creatures as "zombies". Some correlation was noted between the appearance of the zombie-figure in films as a response to war or the fear of it, and they have exploded in popularity since the September 11 attacks. There is a fear of being reduced to mindlessness, to losing the meaning of life. Zombies are not like robots, as robots are perceived as having intelligence--they are actually the opposite of zombies. The "philosophical" zombie is the ultimate metaphor for loss of meaning in life. (I would also suggest that the zombie is a metaphor for living a life devoid of meaning--just slavishly going to work every day with no hope or aspirations).
"Magic and the Journey to God : Reading I and Thou from the Vantage of Theurgy and Fantasy" -- Daniel McClain, The Catholic University of America
Rainer Maria Rilke speaks of a world both bewitched and sacred. Mr. McClain asks the question, What does magic tell us about reality? He examines this question in a three-part paper: first, exploring Martin Buber's idea of "pure relationship" , second, looking at the idea of the sacramental (the "re-enchantment agenda"), and third, a critique of both approaches and an exploration of Susanna Clarke's novel, "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell" in relation to this question (creation elevated to participation in the "enchanted").
Buber's idea of "pure relationship" is an absolute relationship including all others, including God--the idea that "you need God, and God needs you". Buber is critical of magic, as he feels it occurs "in a void", outside of relationship. Anything that is not subjective is instrumental, and the magician is instrumental by objectifying people. Buber deals in the world of Spirit, and is suspicious of Matter.
Mr. McClain then looks at the sacramental, God revealing Himself in material milieu--"created reality as evidence of the presence of God." This mode of thinking favors aesthetics over magic, as all of creation is seen in theistic terms. The onus is on the person to interpret aesthetics outside of theistics. Can the same thing be done with magic?
Both approaches resist dealing with the world as it is. Mr. McClain invokes Pseudo-Dionysus, and the idea of Christ as the source underlying all hierarchical structures. The material is transformed--the Eucharistic liturgy and the ritual of anointing to bring about transformation are two examples of this. Material signs cannot be reduced to mere "mind-body".
In his discussion of Clarke's novel, Mr. McClain notes that in the story, the struggles and transformations of the characters show that Nature will not stand to be objectified. Magic serves Nature's demand for justice. His conclusion is that the "I and Thou" relationship is too simplistic (and perhaps too abstract). Buber spiritualizes relationships, leaving out the material; magic incorporates the material, and serves to "humanize" our relationships.
"The Old Mamselle's Secret : Critique and Admiration of Religion in the Works of E. Marlitt" -- Johanna Monighan-Schaefer
Eugenie Marlitt wrote 10 novels in her lifetime, and is considered to be the first bestselling author of Germany in the 1860s. Her work was later critiqued as nothing more than "Cinderella stories," and her work was forgotten for many years. Now literary scholars are taking a second look at her work and restoring them to their literary merit. While the stories are melodramatic and exaggerated in places, the content is unconventional. Ms. Monighan-Schaefer looks at two of Eugenie Marlitt's works--"The Old Mamselle's Secret," and "The Second Wife." The first novel critiques more severe forms of Protestantism, and the second novel is a critique of the Catholic Church. The characters in the story model both positive and negative religious behavior.
In the first story, the character Mrs. Helwig is the embodiment of religious zeal that is loveless. She dresses like a Puritan, forbids any kind of entertainment, and sits knitting socks for the foreign mission, and looks for praise for her piety from people in the street. She is cruel to the protagonist, a young girl called Felicitas, an orphan who is under her son's charge and lives in her house. She feels the temple of her house is desecrated by the presence of Felicitas, the daughter of a circus performer, coming from "sinful" origins. Mrs. Helwig is portrayed as greedy and selfish. Felicitas, by contrast, has an almost childlike faith in God, but becomes embittered as she starts to believe Mrs. Helwig's rhetoric that she and her mother will not enter heaven because of their sinfulness. Felicitas discovers an old woman living in a part of the estate forbidden to her, the "Old Mamselle" of title. The Old Mamselle gives her a secret education, and tells her not to lose faith because of Mrs. Helwig, pointing to Corinthians 1:11--religious zeal will end, God's love will continue.
"The Second Wife" contrasts Leanna, and Leanna's husband's uncle, a fanatical Jesuit priest. The priest's corruption is revealed when he tries to make sexual advances towards Leanna. In both stories, there are happy endings, and it seems that their popularity could be credited to the unveiled criticism of religious establishments that so many of her contemporaries identified with. Little is known of Marlitt's own religious convictions. Her own explorations led her to believe in "Creation, not a personal God", and all of her explorations had to be scientifically verified. She was a great proponent of education for women, and her stories reveal a desire to fight against injustice, intolerance, folly, and malice.
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