THE REVOLUTION WILL BE ZOMBIFIED:

CAPITALIST REALISM AND CONTEMPORARY ZOMBIE NARRATIVES

A Thesis

Presented to the faculty of the Department of English

California State University, Sacramento

Submitted in partial satisfaction of The requirements for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

in

English

(Literature)

by

Christopher James Summers

FALL 2020

THE REVOLUTION WILL BE ZOMBIFIED:

CAPITALIST REALISM AND CONTEMPORARY ZOMBIE NARRATIVES

A Thesis

by

Christopher James Summers

Approved by:

______, Committee Chair Susan Fanetti

______, Second Reader Torsa Ghosal

______Date

ii

Student: Christopher James Summers

I certify that this student has met the requirements for format contained in the University format manual, and this thesis is suitable for electronic submission to the library and credit is to be awarded for the thesis.

______, Graduate Coordinator ______Doug Rice Date

Department of English

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Abstract

of

THE REVOLUTION WILL BE ZOMBIFIED

CAPITALIST REALISM AND CONTEMPORARY ZOMBIE NARRATIVES

by

Christopher James Summers

Contemporary zombie narratives challenge the limits of capitalist realism. Zombie narratives have long been critical of capitalism, having roots in slave narratives. It is a genre spurred from a conversation on race, marginalization, crisis, and capitalism. Over time the context of race was lost as the genre has passed through multiple stages, yet recently this context of race and marginalization is being reintegrated into the zombie narrative. The contemporary zombie narrative puts itself in direct confrontation with the concept of capitalist realism, the belief that modern society no longer has any ability to view past the capitalist system. The contemporary zombie narratives test the limits of this argument by exposing how marginalized perspectives in times of crisis pose the greatest stress on the systems of capitalism and the possibility for alternatives to capitalism taking place. This view on capitalist realism reflects how marginalized perspectives on current crises hold a similar position in making alternatives possible. Zombie narratives show the real weakness in capitalist realism by reflecting a scenario in which a demographic is so exploited there is no avenue left but to visualize past the capitalist system.

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This thesis focuses on two primary examples of contemporary zombie narratives,

The Girl with All the Gifts and Zone One. Using the lens of Mark Fisher’s definition of capitalist realism, each text is examined in how the text frames capitalism in the narrative, how marginalized perspectives within the text critique capitalism, and how the responses to the texts hint at inspiring action to circumvent the notion of interpassivity.

The first chapter analyzes The Girl with All the Gifts, focusing on the importance of generational shifts and how marginalized perspectives can break the conditioning of the ideological state apparatus. The second chapter examines The Zone One, focusing on how marginalized perspectives can critique notions of futurity. The chapter shows how ignoring the context of race is detrimental to combating capitalist realism. In the third chapter these two texts are compared to marginalized perspectives on the Covid-19 pandemic, the Black Lives Matter protests, and climate change. This thesis, thus, shows how contemporary zombie narratives directly reflect the ways in which marginalized perspectives test the limits of capitalist realism in times of crisis. Ultimately, contemporary zombie narratives point out capitalist realism’s faults in not considering marginalized perspectives and how critical texts can participate in a gradual change toward a vision of alternatives to the system.

______, Committee Chair Susan Fanetti

______Date

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Page

Introduction…...... 1

Chapter

1. The Girl with All the Gifts: Crisis, Environment, and Future Generations ...... 15

2. Zone One: Futurity, Post-Racism, and Language ...... 34

3. Reflections of a Zombie World ...... 56

Conclusion ...... 68

Works Cited ...... 77

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1

Introduction

“It is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism” (Fisher 1).

This is an idea attributed to Frederick Jameson and Slavoj Zizek by Marxist theorist,

Mark Fisher. In today’s world, where the media depicts a new apocalyptic blockbuster each year and capitalist forces persist past world turning disasters, the current institutions of capitalism do seem ever-present. Mark Fisher, in his 2008 book Capitalist Realism: Is

There No Alternative?, describes this feeling as capitalist realism. Capitalist realism states that today's capitalist society is no longer able to view past capitalism. It is more likely that you are able to imagine what the world would look like after nuclear fallout than you are to imagine a currency exchange, or some sort of class system based on wealth. This is true even in the media that depicts the end of the world. Zombie fiction, for instance, is an apocalyptic genre directly committed to commenting on capitalism, frequently focusing on the feelings of zombification in modern society. Yet, it rarely shows a direct alternative to capitalism. Instead, the world ends before capitalism does.

Typically, everything churns endlessly in an apocalypse that has already happened, unable to envision past the devastation. Capitalism appears as an ever-present, unstoppable entity, even in an event of absolute destruction. This sense is what is at the core of capitalist realism, a sense of the irreplaceability of capitalism.

However, in the last decade or so there have been some zombie narratives that have tested the ideas of capitalist realism in a new fashion. That is specifically through the critical lens of marginalized perspectives underneath a capitalist system. The film The

Girl with All the Gifts directed by Colm McCarthy and the book Zone One by Colson

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Whitehead are good representations of this. Both are texts that focus on marginalized perspectives on their respective systems during a time of crisis. They use this perspective as an avenue to discover the ingrained faults in capitalism and test its limits. While the concept of capitalist realism is a difficult one to entirely deny, these contemporary texts begin to put holes in its armor. The voices and actions of those marginalized and abused by the capitalist system in zombie narratives have interesting parallels in the ways minority voices have exposed capitalism's fragility in dealing with devastating events like systemic racism, disease, and global warming. As such, contemporary zombie narratives act as a reflection of a possible world in which a marginalized perspective during times of crisis holds a sharp enough criticism toward capitalism to lead to an alternative.

Capitalist realism is a very contemporary term in Marxist criticism, and it reflects and critiques other established Marxist views. Capitalist realism stems from the perceived resilience of capitalism in the face of opposition. Some of the most influential Marxist writers, particularly Althusser, argued that capitalist power is adept at perpetuating itself even in the event of total destruction. Althusser held the notion that capitalism has mechanisms in place which allow it to survive in the event of its destruction. He calls these systems the “reproduction of the means of production,” or the ideologies which capitalism spreads to make itself seem indispensable to the people within it (Althusser

133). Mark Fisher expands on this idea to expose a modern sentiment toward capitalism’s seemingly indestructible nature. Fisher claims that today’s society is burdened with the

“widespread sense that not only is capitalism the only viable political and economic system, but also that it is now impossible even to imagine a coherent alternative to it,”

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(2). In modern society, because of its perceived indestructibility, capitalism is valued as more than the best viable economic system; it is perceived as the only viable economic system. This is a stark contrast to Karl Marx’s original philosophy of capitalism’s fall being “inevitable” (“Manifesto of the Communist Party” 21). While to Marx, the system of capitalism relied on systems that would inevitably unite the people against it, Fisher’s notions are an absolute refusal of this argument. It is a much darker take in which capitalism’s fall is no longer even conceivable. Even in the event of complete destruction, capitalism will persist until everything else dies out first. Capitalist realism is a modern sense that the power of capitalism is limitless and solitary.

The way Mark Fisher defines “capitalism” falls under a more hegemonic sense of the term. He defines capitalism as reality itself, that capitalist is “what is left when beliefs have collapsed at the level of ritual or symbolic elaboration, and all that is left is the consumer-spectator, trudging through the ruins and the relics” (4). Capitalism in this sense is not an economic system alone. It is an all-engrossing thing that has diminished or made subservient all other social systems toward perpetuating itself. This directly reflects the concept of cultural hegemony from Antonio Gramsci. Gramsci argued that forces like the church, schools, the court system, and “numerous other private initiatives and activities have the same goal… the political and cultural hegemony of the ruling classes”

(338). In other words, the state of capitalism is an encompassing reality that supports the hegemony of the ruling class. This seems to be the basis of Fisher’s version of capitalism, and capitalist realism is a byproduct of that all-encompassing hegemony. Capitalism in capitalistic societies has become so ever-present that alternatives cannot be fabricated.

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A very central idea of this philosophy lies in the place of public relations and propaganda. Capitalist realism is highly reliant on the idea that all media, all symbols, and aspects of culture eventually begin to be molded into the folds of capitalism. Under capitalism, all artifacts made are subsumed into the mold of capitalism. Pieces meant to reject or critique capitalist culture are made into “museum pieces,” no longer capable to give lenses outside of the system in which they are preserved (Fisher 4). All things under capitalism become part of capitalism, giving even “religious iconography, pornography, or Das Kapital, a monetary value” (Fisher 4). In the end, absolutely everything becomes a commodity, capitalist critical or not. The more anti-capitalism sells the more it only to proves the effectiveness of capitalism. This inevitable bend of criticism to participate in what it’s critiquing factors it into Fisher’s discussion on public relations (PR). Everything becomes a tool to promote state power as it becomes another commodity furthering the system which it exemplifies, and this is an integral part of the system. Fisher clarifies that

“late capitalism is defined at least as much by this ubiquitous tendency toward PR- production as it is by the imposition of market mechanisms” (Fisher 44). PR-production is integral to the system itself, as this notion of capitalisms ubiquity is what sells and creates the belief that in every corner capitalism reigns. It spreads the sense that everything is a force for capitalism, and there's nothing that can last beyond its veil.

As a result of this, criticism of the system is not enough to circumvent capitalism.

Fisher’s capitalist realism relies heavily on the works of Marxist philosopher, Slavoj

Zizek, and his notion of modern cynical culture. Zizek claims that today's culture is best defined by its cynicism, its self-reflective awareness. The culture of cynicism has become

5 a form of a state ideology that creates a false sense of a “post-ideological world” (The

Sublime Object of Ideology 27). Zizek argues that this action of cynicism actually “leaves untouched the fundamental level of ideological fantasy, the level on which ideology structures the social reality itself” (27). The cynicism of modern society does not attack the structures of capitalist ideology in any real tangible sense. It is criticism without encouraging any actual change. Modern cynicism only functions as an acceptable method to satisfy the masses' want for capitalist action, without actually enacting anything.

Fisher takes this notion and brings it a step further. For him, in this state of cynicism, “A moral critique of capitalism… only reinforces capitalist realism” (16).

Being critical of capital only makes it harder to visualize past it. The modern action of cynicism only further satiates those wanting to enact change. The major takeaway is that late-capitalism has created a culture where things critical of the system are defanged.

Capitalist critique has become only critical conceptually and does not inspire any true confrontation with the system. In effect, capitalist realism argues that anti-capitalism itself has become part of the capitalist ideology. This is due, in large part, to the notion of interpassivity.

Interpassivity is a term accredited to cultural theorists Robert Pfaller and Slavoj

Zizek. The term is a portmanteau of the words “interactive” and “passivity.” It defines the modern tendency to interact with critical media to defer action onto that piece of media

(Pfaller). In other words, interpassivity “is an apparatus that relieves us of our duties when others act out these duties on our behalf” that promotes “enlightened false consciousness” (Engelbreight 83). The problem this proposes is that the media, in

6 general, is incapable of breaking capitalist realism because of the way it is consumed.

Fisher gives an example of this in the movie Wall-E, claiming that the film “performs our anti-capitalism for us,” allowing the viewer to continue their inaction (12). It appears that even if a piece of media is critical of capitalism, the modern audience only uses that media to self-gratify the need for action without actually inspiring action. Even if it can give some vision past capitalism, that will not translate into any action by the viewership of that media.

Despite Fisher's claims, some theorists conclude that imagining past capitalism can be possible if a perspective is critical enough. Theorist, Michael Clune critiques

Fisher’s assumptions by stating that while it may be difficult to view past capitalism,

Fisher makes the mistake of assuming every depiction of capitalism is equal. Clune states, “The fictions he has surveyed are either bad capitalist realism--works that pretend to describe capitalist reality while distorting it for good capitalist realism-- works that diagnose the true shape of actually existing capitalism” (205). There is an important distinction between media that depicts capitalism that is critical in its examination and media that does not. While from Zizek’s claims even that critical media still lacks the teeth to create movement, Clune suggests that this is a narrow vision on change, as he asks the question, “In order to realize the dream of an anti-government left, do we need to imagine a left free market” (210). Essentially, this argues that breaking capitalist realism is a process. While now capitalist realism seems to be unbeatable, with no true fiction that imagines a utopian post-capitalism, that is only because we are still in the process of reimagining capitalism. By proposing a critique that can map the functions and errors of

7 capitalism to open the doors to a greater critique change is still possible. By Clune’s account, a good representation of capitalism’s faults does hold the ability to begin the process of breaking down capitalist realism, even if it does not break it in and of itself.

An important unspoken element of Clune’s theory is that to imagine the strongest vision of capitalism’s faults, we must look from a perspective in which those faults are most visible and apparent. Another critic of capitalist realism, Richard Dienst, similarly lays out an argument in which depictions that are critical of capitalism can begin to break down capitalist realism. However, “In order for this critical operation to succeed, our grasp of the capitalist system must exceed the reach of our own lived experience. In this context what we call ‘theory,’ then, gives us the special, provisional discourse in which we try to grasp what reality fails or refuses to give us” (Dienst 251). The problem is one of perspective. By gaining a perspective of someone outside of capitalism, we can gain a critical lens able to deconstruct capitalism. This is, unfortunately, not entirely possible when viewing capitalism as an all-encompassing hegemony. However, I would argue that this does not make all perspectives under capitalism equal. Those perspectives of people who have been historically and currently exploited, neglected, and marginalized by the capitalist system, provide the closest analog available to an outside perspective of capitalism.

For the American system, as well as many European nations who profited from the slave trade, that perspective is most clearly seen in people of color. Anti-racist researcher, Ibram X. Kendi, speaks on the importance of realizing how integral the system of slavery was to the emergence of capitalism in Europe, and by proxy, the US:

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“Capitalism emerged during what world-systems theorists term the “long sixteenth century,” a cradling period that begins around 1450 with Portugal (and Spain) sailing into the unknown Atlantic. Prince Henry’s Portugal birthed conjoined twins--capitalism and racism--when it initiated the transatlantic slave trade of African people” (Kendi 156).

It is not only that capitalism spawned the slave trade but that the two were integral to each other. Capitalism rose alongside the exploitation of people of color. Karl Marx made a similar observation as he stated how slavery and its absolute exploitation of work was the “rosy dawn of the era of capitalist production” (Capital, Volume 1: Commodities).

With this background, it does not seem extreme to say that the capitalist system was not built for people of color. It was built with the frame of mind of explicitly exploiting them.

The fact that this background is argued by Kendi in his book on how to fight against racism in the current day goes to show how this history has reverberated into the present moment. the capitalism of today, in effect, was built on the notion of exploiting and marginalizing people of color. Because of this, the voices of people of color are the most critical lens on capitalism. They are the voices who are seeing the least benefit and the greatest ill of the system. Kendi himself expresses that anti-capitalism and anti-racism are codependent ideas (159). One cannot be truly critical of capital without considering race, and vice versa. He is not alone in this assumption either. In the influential essay,

“White Fragility,” Robin DiAngelo states one of the reasons why white Americans tend to avoid talking about race is because avoiding minority perspectives “is necessary to support current structures of capitalism and domination, for, without it, the correlation between the distribution of social resources and unearned white privilege would be evident” (60). Essentially, DiAngelo argues that speaking on issues of race and how it

9 factors into capitalist exploitation is so damaging to the perception of capitalism that it is avoided entirely. Putting this back into the frame of capitalist realism, if the perspectives of people of color are the most damaging to the system, then that is the perspective best able to visualize past it. And if capitalism encompasses reality, then the end of perceived reality is what is needed. Putting these things together points to zombie narratives holding a unique space in combating capitalist realism.

Zombie narratives were from their very conception related to anti-capitalist themes quite directly through perspectives of people of color. The term “zombie” originates from a Haitian myth of a person under the control of a Vodou master. This relationship is “implicitly connected to the history of the transatlantic slave trade”

(Comentale 186). They are representatives of those “othered,” oppressed, and enslaved by the rising capitalist powers. The myth of the zombie encapsulates the fear of losing autonomy, being dead and not dead simultaneously. It is about having consciousness without having control. It reflects the liminal space of physically being within the capitalist system whilst lacking autonomy or voice in that system. Historian Ann Kordas follows the word “zombie” to an association with narratives of slave revolts, certain narratives giving the leader of slave revolts the name “Zombi,” creating a folk hero relation to the term (Kordas 17). From its conception, the notion of “zombie” was viewed as a symbol against the current ruling system in certain stories. It was a figure both marginalized by and potentially the biggest threat to the ruling capitalist system imposing slavery, as once the figure of the zombie rose the systems exploiting it must fail. Kordas argues that these were relations to the zombie myth that white slave owners in America

10 were familiar with, as there are accounts of American newspapers retelling similar stories about zombi revolt leaders accounted from slaves. There were even attempts from slave owners to try and oppress these narratives because of their revolutionary associations

(Kordas 16). It is clear that originally the myth of the zombie was not only critical of the system but invited action against it. It was an attempt to break capitalist realism well before the theory existed.

When the myth was used in white American media in the early twentieth century, the myth turned to work on the fears of whites about being the object of slavery. The new

American zombie narrative played mostly on white fears of slavery being overturned and white people being enslaved themselves. Ostensibly, this was a fear of being the ones exploited by capitalism instead of benefiting from it. Early mainstream zombie movies exposed these fears of “reverse colonization.” They portrayed white people being enslaved by evil dark-skinned voodoo masters, or white people “going primitive,” becoming more like the racist stereotypes created of African Americans (Comentale 193).

Much of the context of the zombie being a liberating mythos was lost in this new context, even as the criticism of capitalism’s enslavement remained (Kordas 18). Still, in many ways the ultimate message of the zombie mythos has remained the same; the current capitalist system is based on exploitation, predominantly along racial lines, and you don’t want to be the one being exploited.

Into the 1960s, zombie narratives took the myth from being primarily critical of colonialism and slavery and directed it to general issues around race during the time. In this burgeoning new era of zombie narratives, no single person had a bigger impact than

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George A. Romero. In his first zombie film, Night of the Living Dead, many of the common zombie narrative tropes of today were first conceived, including flesh consumption and massive hordes. Here, the zombie mythos began a whole new context.

Having a strong African American protagonist, the film was marketed directly to African

American audiences and was typically seen as a “eulogy” for the failures of the civil rights and counterculture movements of the 1950s and ’60s (Phillips 92). With the narrative ending with the African American protagonist shot by white police officers and thrown on a heap of other dead zombie bodies of all colors, the original racial tension behind zombie narratives seems to still be present. Although it held more of a mournful reflection of the hopelessness of the political situation than a call for any revolutionary spirit of action against oppression, and thus some of the original zombie bite was lost.

Romero’s films over time became more concerned with a broader capitalist critique, undermining zombie narrative’s thematic preoccupation with race. In his most well-known film, Dawn of the Dead (1978), Romero takes the zombie and puts them in the context of a middle American shopping mall, immediately relating zombies to

“commodity consumption run wild” (Shaviro 12). His 2005 film, Land of the Dead, depicts a city where the lower oppressed classes of society are literally on the same level as the zombies while the higher bourgeoisie class lies safely above in skyscraper penthouses, in an obvious reflection of capitalistic hierarchies (Romero). While both of these have non-white characters, issues of racial discrimination or exploitation take a back seat to conversations about overall capitalistic systems of oppression. The zombie has become more of a direct critique of overall consumerism or classism under

12 capitalism. From there, the floodgates of metaphor were wide open, and zombies have since been used to represent fears of globalization, immigration, and late-colonial oppression as seen in films like World War Z, whose most jarring scene portrays hordes of zombies climbing over impossibly high border walls in distant countries (Forster).

They have also spread to film studios all across the world, both those involved in the history of the slave trade and beyond. Undoubtedly, zombies are symbols extremely critical of capitalistic systems in any facet where people are being oppressed by the mechanisms of that system. Yet, current zombie narratives no longer center around marginalized perspectives as they once have and have lost some of the revolutionary bite it originally held.

While critical of capitalism, zombie narratives rarely, if ever, give direct depictions of systems past capitalism. In the typical ending of the last century of zombie narratives, things tend to either return to the status quo or end ambiguously. Even in

Romero’s seminal work, Dawn of the Dead, the last scene depicts the characters flying off on a helicopter toward an uncertain future. There is no depiction of a new world nor are the zombies dealt with. The criticism is presented then left ambiguous as to how to prevent or circumvent it. In the now-classic British film, 28 Days Later, director Danny

Boyle ends the tale with the zombies dying off from starvation. Afterward, the main characters are rescued by a military force, marking the return to normalcy. Capitalism returns, and in this case, almost triumphantly. In many zombie films, either the zombies are killed off or the fight goes on exponentially; rarely is something new fostered or hinted at.

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This sense has been taken up by critics of the genre, like Chris Goto-Jones, who suggests zombie narratives are not even capable of imagining a new system. He observes that if the zombies are reflections of the masses under the state there is an issue in the fact that “it is almost impossible to imagine a way in which zombies could form and sustain a workable society” (97). Goto-Jones states that, therefore, zombie narratives are incapable of helping visualize past the system. Nothing new can be created by either the denizens of the old system or the burgeoning zombie populace. This seems to be mostly true with the majority of zombie narrative. While I would argue this is not a problem with zombie narratives as a genre, but an issue in the bite of their perspective it uses toward capitalism. What is missing is the reintegration of the marginalized perspective the genre once held. What is needed is to show the most exploited people under capitalism to provide that bite of critique that is enough to begin dismantling capitalist realism.

In that idea is where the movie The Girl with All the Gifts and the book Zone One enters the picture. The Girl with All the Gifts and Zone One, being contemporary zombie narratives focusing on perspectives of people of color exploited by the system, might hold a critical enough lens on capitalism to begin to break down capitalist realism and begin envisioning a post-capitalism. Together, they work particularly well with this study. The Girl with All the Gifts is a British film written by M.R. Carey, which reflects the world Mark Fisher sees as a British author, and Zone One is an American text by

Colson Whitehead, closer to zombie narratives overall American centric context. With

The Girl with All the Gifts coming from a white author and Zone One coming from an

African American author, these two together provide a good range on the perspectives

14 this genre can give on marginalization and capitalist realism on both those who are from a marginalized demographic and those who are observing and using these themes from a dominant (white male) perspective. . To truly examine these texts in the frame of capitalist realism, they must be examined in how they work, what message they send, and what impact they have or could have on their audiences. Only then can we examine how the contemporary zombie narrative's critical lenses and perspectives work against and test the merits of capitalist realism.

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Chapter 1: The Girl with All the Gifts: Crisis, Environment, and Future Generations

While there is both a novel and a film version of The Girl with All the Gifts, I will be focusing on the film’s version alone, as zombie narratives are a film driven genre. The film also differs in a key factor from the novel, the protagonist’s race being changed, adding a more direct reflection of marginalization. The Girl with All the Gifts film presents itself in conversation with capitalist realism in a myriad of ways. From the perspective of the protagonist to the setting itself, the film does not follow the trademark routes of typical zombie narratives. The most original and interesting element is in how this film ends. Unlike any other zombie film, this film sides with the zombies and proposes a new world with zombies on top. With that in mind, the film brings a fresh perspective toward capitalist realism. The Girl with All the Gifts presents a marginalized perspective on a failing capitalist system and shows directly how that perspective leaves space for an alternative system to manifest for a new post-apocalyptic generation.

The Girl with All the Gifts that premiered in 2016. M. R. Carey wrote the screenplay concurrently with the novel. While the film received good reviews and a handful of awards, it struggled in its initial release and barely broke even with its budget.

Recently, it has had a revitalization since it has been added onto the Netflix streaming service, the timing of which seems relevant to the current pandemic situation. The movie centers around a girl, Melanie, who is a thinking, speaking, second-generation zombie.

She is struggling with her identity as everyone around her considers her unhuman, except for herself and her teacher Ms. Justeneau. Being infected with the zombie disease yet conscious, her DNA holds the last hope for creating a cure for the virus. To this end, she

16 is constantly being experimented on by the remnants of the capitalist system in a military outpost. As they test the limits of her humanity in classroom-like activities, the government officials struggle to discern if she is a good candidate for a cure. Eventually, they decide to kill and dissect her, which is when the zombie’s attack. As the gates of the outpost inevitably collapse, she and some characters representing different aspects of the government are cast into the hordes of zombies to find a way back to the last remaining safe haven, while constantly testing Melanie’s humanity throughout the film.

The Girl with All the Gifts begins with a full display of the state apparatuses of control. In the very opening scene, before any notion of zombies are revealed within the narrative, the protagonist, Melanie, is being held in a gray dingy prison cell. She puts on an orange jumpsuit, straps herself down to a wheelchair, and we’re shown her perspective as she casually smiles at the military guards who enter with a gun aimed at her head. This opening shows a great reflection of Louis Althusser’s notion of “state apparatuses.” State apparatuses are institutions, like the prison system or the military, whose primary function is the “repressive execution” of “the interests of the ruling class” under capitalism (Althusser 137). The protagonist is under these forms of capitalists’ oppression, which is exemplified by her sedated, almost comically calm reaction to a soldier pointing a gun at her head. As this oppressive force is being used on a young child, this system is automatically shown in a negative light, setting up an exaggerated oppressive state apparatus within the first minute of the film. Of all these forms of oppression on display, one is more prominently featured than others, the education system.

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The ideological forces of state apparatuses are particularly exaggerated when it comes to education within The Girl with All the Gifts. In the second major scene of the film, the protagonist is depicted alongside other children, also strapped down to chairs, in a gray metal-walled classroom. For Althusser, school is defined as a major part of the ideological state apparatus, whose purpose is to create contradictions that ultimately support the “ruling ideology” (146). In essence, education's purpose is to instill the ideologies that support capitalism above all other ideologies. It is not about educating but is about spreading the ruling ideologies so the system can sustain itself. This is reflected clearly in the movie as one of the teachers states to another, after her opening lesson, that

“the content is not really relevant.” What is being taught is not as relevant as the underlying power that is being enforced on the children. Educating these children is not the priority. The priority is making good test subjects to keep the system alive during their time of crisis. While the teacher states their education isn’t important, control evidently is, as all the children are strapped in restraints while in the classroom. While this is not exactly the context of what Althusser pictures, the underlying logic is the same.

The school system is a means for the system to perpetuate itself through systems of control. These mechanisms become transparent as the system is on the verge of collapse.

As these children pose the last hope of the system in a time of crisis, the oppression on them is starker and more visible. The system of education reveals itself to be the clear system of control it always was.

The results of this are seen through Melanie’s adoption of the ideology supporting the system even to the detriment of her own identity. As the students are asked to create a

18 story for their class, Melanie writes a narrative in which a woman, acting as a reflection of her teacher, is attacked by a “friggin abortion,” a term used to demean the children and mark them as inhuman. The woman is saved by a third character, a surrogate for Melanie herself, that slays the “abortion” and rescues the woman (The Girl with All the Gifts).

Melanie has embraced the ruling ideology which oppresses her through her education.

She has associated part of her own identity as a monster, the “friggin abortion,” that must be destroyed to protect her teacher, the one perpetuating the very system which oppresses her. What Melanie is taught, and exhibits through this story, is that she must support the system even at the destruction or exploitation of herself and others like her. Therefore, the ideological state apparatus appears to be working as intended. When comparing this to the history of race and colonialism, another layer of the critique is revealed.

Some of the elements of the film’s depiction of the school reflect historical methods of subjugation of non-white peoples during colonial times. The entire film’s depiction of a child being forced into school and having their sense of worth degraded is very reminiscent of real historical Native American boarding schools. Native American boarding schools were schools created by American settlers with the explicit purpose of reeducating the people of the lands there were colonizing. They were explicitly “run like military organizations'' with the very first, Carlisle Indian Industrial School, being established in a former military outpost (Reyhner 142). They were constructed to subjugate native people into the American system, yet they also had an economic purpose. The book American Indian Education: A History, a historical overview of the history involving Native American forced assimilation, states “In the West, [boarding

19 schools] quickly became a way for white families to obtain cheap servants. Boarding schools such as Phoenix Indian School became, in effect, employment agencies to white households'' (Reyhner 149). The purpose of these schools was ostensibly not to educate the youth, but to subjugate a separate culture to support the capitalist structure. It was about taking a people outside capitalism and turning them into a marginalized group to be exploited for the benefit of white Americans. The effects of which were devastating and left entire cultures in a state of limbo. Those who returned from boarding schools were

“unprepared to resume their tribal life but unable as well to carry on as ‘whites’”

(Reyhner 5). This left them both within and without the dominant capitalist system.

Marginalized by forced assimilation, boarding school left people unable to assimilate to their home culture, while not fully accepted in their new one.

The overall aesthetic of this in the film appears to be the same. Melanie and the other children are half-zombies, taken from the wild zombie-infested cities into the education/military camp. These children are not there to be educated but to be used and exploited by the system as a whole. Like the boarding schools, they are taken out of their context to be immersed in a culture foreign to them. When the protagonist Melanie has a chance to escape back into the zombie culture she was born into, she stops dazed, confused by a world she has never experienced. The camera frames her alone against an endless sea of grass that holds nothing for her, and she is lost and insignificant against it

(The Girl with All the Gifts). She has been so removed from the world outside from which she came, that she no longer feels easy in that context, nor is she easy under the system trying to kill her. She as well is put into a marginalized place, unable to be

20 accepted by or escape the system. Even what the children are learning holds similarities to boarding schools. The film shows the children learning Greek myths, a cornerstone of white European culture, instead of anything about their origins. With all these connections to the exploitation of non-white peoples through education, the fact that

Melanie is a person of color is important. This whole connection has a deliberate purpose within the film as it places Melanie as a marginalized woman.

Melanie within the story is a marginalized woman, who while being under the control of the capitalist system is not allowed to fully integrate or benefit from it. Melanie hails from a group exploited by and seen as apart from the system. Melanie is a conscious thinking, feeling, breathing, zombie, classified as an outsider to humanity. This is emphasized through the tensions between the characters of Mrs. Justineau, Melanie’s main teacher, and Dr. Caldwell, the head scientist experimenting on the children. Right before Melanie is about to be dissected by Dr. Caldwell, Mrs. Justineau’s conscience drives her to interrupt the procedure, where she claims, “We’re cutting up children!” Dr.

Caldwell retorts, “They present as children” (The Girl with All the Gifts). Dr. Caldwell, in her position of authority in the film, represents the overall consensus of the system. That consensus is, Melanie and the other children are less than sub-human. They are non- human. The wording of Dr. Caldwell is particularly telling in that as she believes they

“present” as children, this must mean that the children show no outside differences from normal children other than the perspective placed on them as zombies. Melanie is a character who by every facet appears as a regular little girl with the quirk of wanting to

21 eat raw meat. Still, she is put in a position of an outsider to society, to humanity, while at the same time being controlled and taught by the system which excludes her.

With this deep narrative of marginalization, casting Melanie’s character as a black young woman seems deliberate. Everything about her character reflects the way non- whites are treated as a marginalized exploited class within the system. It must be noted that in the novel Melanie is white, described as “white as snow” (Carey 1). As both the novel and film were made synchronously, it’s hard to tell which decision came first or if the decision to cast a black actress was purposeful at all. However, even as a white character, Melanie still shows the same direct reflection to marginalized non-whites. She is seen as sub-human, exploited for the gain of the system, and treated as if she has no rights. Making her a person of color only brings that narrative further toward the forefront of the film in such a fashion there must have been some deliberate attempt to connect race to Melanie’s status as a marginalized person. It must be noted that Colm

McCarthy and the writer, Mike Carey, are both British white males. Therefore, it cannot be claimed that The Girl with all the Gifts itself is a marginalized lens on capitalism, but it does advocate for that lens. This adds a powerful context of race to contemporary zombie narratives that are usually lacking. The narrative diverges from the typical tropes even further through the nature of the zombie infection itself and Melanie’s position in it.

The infection in The Girl with All the Gifts is a natural, fungal-based virus. Unlike the usual bacterial or viral-based spread, the zombie infection in the film spreads through fungal spores that infect the host and eventually sprout out in reproductive seed pods.

While fungal based zombies aren’t entirely new, they are rather uncommon and are

22 interesting in how they are a nature spread virus. The virus is not man-made or thought of as some wrath of God; it is the natural environment spreading and surviving in a way that is incongruous with the way humanity is currently playing out their lives. It is akin to an environmental disaster. Something happened that changed nature and now it is incongruous with daily human living, such as an oil spill or climate change. The zombie infection is a looming disaster of plant-like seed pods ready to burst open and irreparably change the natural world.

This reflects real crises, such as the looming natural disaster of climate change, and the context of marginalization draws this out. In “Grey: A Zombie Ecology,” Jeffery

Cohen describes how “the undead as another category of “unthought” share much with such victims [of environmental disaster], most of whom suffer in their bodies for ecological devastation” (386). The zombie, as he describes, shares much in common with the masses who are the victims of environmental disasters due to the choices of those beyond them. This is connected to the real concerns of the consequences of the lives

“comfortable modes of living enjoyed by elites,” as the unwary masses being turned into zombies is akin to the people living downstream from a toxic waste dump, seeing their lives destroyed by no fault of their own (Cohen 386). He also makes the insightful connection that “racism is as environmental as it is social… Racism is intimately entwined within monsterization, and so it is perhaps not surprising to discover that the zombie offers a racialized body” (386-387). Race, Cohen points out, is both intimately tied to environmental disaster as it is with zombie narratives and brings them closer together. Non-whites typically are at the greatest exposure to environmental disasters,

23 and the zombie is a racialized monster that is a victim of environmental change. This is something that can be viewed through all of the zombie narratives in one degree or another, yet in this film, it is more explicit. The zombies are an obvious victim of the new fungal environment and the main character is a woman of color whose story is explicitly tied to themes of racial discrimination and marginalization. This also paints further criticism onto the capitalist system within the story.

The capitalist system in this film is portrayed as being completely incongruous with the zombie environment. The main tension in the film is with the spore pods that are growing out of the older zombie corpses. If they were to open, due to time or being forced open by fire, the spores would become airborne and everyone left unaffected would be infected. To Dr. Caldwell and the system she represents, the opening of these pods would bring about “The end of the world” (The Girl with All the Gifts). The natural world presents a threat of an entire systemic collapse, and this event is inevitable. The pods will open eventually with or without outside intervention, and the only hope is the slim chance a cure will be created before that happens. The capitalist system is unable to live within the new changing environment. It cannot handle the nature bound crisis it is presented with. This again reflects very real concerns about the capitalist system and its effects on climate change.

Certain scholars like Andrew Sayer are pessimistic about capitalism's ability to withstand the pressures of climate change. Sayer has analyzed how capitalism can potentially fight global warming, only to conclude that “faced with the challenge of doing their part to stop global warming, capitalist states are too structurally dependent on

24 capital to act against it, and too electorally dependent on the support of the middle classes to reduce their consumption” (352). Capitalism fundamentally lacks the foundation to deal with climate change as dealing with it isn’t directly in its interests. With one of the biggest climate change contributing countries, the United States, pulling out of the Paris

Agreement to reduce climate change in 2017, Sayer seems to have a point (Trump).

Capitalism appears hesitant to deal with environmental disasters head-on and is appears incompatible with dealing with the current climate crisis. The Girl with All the Gifts is reflective of this idea. The government is not only incapable of dealing with the zombie outbreak but will inevitably succumb to it. Melanie, in her marginalized position, however, can present something new.

Melanie represents a new symbiosis with the environment. She holds the ability to live in and see purpose beyond her current system. When Melanie is sitting contemplating her first contact with other zombies, she asks Dr. Caldwell, “What am I.”

Dr. Caldwell only explains, “We don’t really have a term for you” followed by a short explanation on how Melanie has formed a symbiosis with the fungal virus (The Girl with

All the Gifts). She is a life in tune with the environment, unlike the system around her.

She is not attacked by the environment or other zombies and is even able to view humanity in zombies when others can not. This is exemplified succinctly when Dr.

Caldwell is explaining how zombies travel in groups but lack adequate reasoning for it.

Melanie gives her own reason, “They must be lonely.” For her comment, she is immediately ridiculed. Where Caldwell sees a dangerous outside environment capable of destroying all she knows, Melanie sees no danger. Where Caldwell sees inhuman groups

25 incapable of higher reasoning, Melanie sees a group of lonely individuals living in their own world.

In a very real way, Dr. Caldwell’s opinion mirrors racist opinions toward minority groups. For Dr. Caldwell, anything outside, threatening her system, is necessarily evil, even inhuman. This is reflected in how the U.S. treated the Native American students, as lesser things in need to be reformed. It is also akin to white fragility and systemic racism, ideologies that act in support of capitalism. From Dr. Caldwell’s perspective, those outside of the system pose the possibility for the end of the world. They can only be viewed as inhuman and chaotic, needing to be exploited or irradicated to keep the world alive. Going back to DiAngelo’s argument for white fragility, DiAngelo states the necessity of ignoring issues of racial inequality to “support current structures of capitalism and domination” (60). This is also reflected in Ibram X. Kendi’s work, as he claims “To love capitalism is to end up loving racism… The conjoined twins are two sides of the same destructive body” (163). Both argue that is a consequence of supporting capitalism as a racist ideology is the cleanest way to excuse systems of exploitation.

This is very directly reflected in the way Melanie’s humanity is dismissed entirely to support the exploitation of her. For Melanie to be human, either Caldwell and the other government official have to face the reality that they are exploiting and murdering

Melanie to support the system, or they have to let Melanie be beyond the system and accept the system's collapse. Treating Melanie as inhuman is an attempt to circumvent this issue entirely, as they no longer have to face the consequences of defying human rights. The moment where Melanie’s plea for a zombie’s humanity is dismissed reflects

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DiAngelo’s words, “Whites generally feel free to dismiss these informed perspectives rather than have the humility to acknowledge that they are unfamiliar, reflect on them further, or seek more information” (61). Melanie's insight into zombie humanity must be scoffed off to protect the status quo. One must remain apathetic toward the oppressed class because otherwise the people perpetuating and benefiting the system would have to face their own atrocities. All of this supports capitalist realism. For those, like Dr.

Caldwell and the general white populace, capitalism is much harder to visualize the past if to do so means confronting their own participation in atrocities. A defense of capitalism through racist arguments is a defense of one's actions under that system.

Capitalism is much more fragile when one is from a, perceived, inhuman group. The systems of logic defending capitalism make less sense when they work directly against the one perceiving them. Capitalist realism is more fragile from a zombie perspective, and this truth is what leads the film’s dramatic conclusion.

In the end, Melanie, as a marginalized exploited zombified person of color, brings about the destruction of the capitalist system and lays the groundwork for her own system. Toward the end of the film, Melanie is presented with an ultimatum; Continue to sacrifice herself to the system by being slaughtered in the name of a cure or use her position on the margins to end the injustice of the system by allowing the environment to destroy the last humans. When presented with this choice, she first asks Dr. Caldwell if she is “alive,” to which Dr. Caldwell finally concedes, “yes.” Then Melanie responds,

“then why should it be us who die for you?” (The Girl with All the Gifts). In this single moment, the repression of capitalist ideology fails. Melanie realizes her worth outside of

27 the system and what a perpetuation of that system means for her: more exploitation. She decides to burn open the fungal pods, making the virus airborne and the environment incompatible with all the humans representative of the capitalist system. Afterward, she makes a crucial statement when talking to the last soldier of that dying system. As he slowly turns into a zombie, silhouetted by the backdrop of the burning spore-pods,

Melanie says to him, “It isn’t over. It’s just not yours anymore” (McCarthy). In this declaration, Melanie finally reveals something every other character has lacked, a vision passed the given system. From Melanie’s perspective, the world does not end with the end of capitalism. It is a new beginning, and this is very informed from a perspective of race and marginalization. Coming from an exploited demographic, a demographic who has never been fully accepted into the capitalist system, capitalist realism doesn’t have the same hold for Melanie in the end. If the system is already so flawed that it is perceived as holding no future, an alternative is much easier to imagine and work toward.

In combination with the environmental destruction around her, weakening the system, her perspective holds greater weight than ever. It allows her to form the groundwork of a new system to flourish, a system where those who were once oppressed, once othered, hold the means of production toward a new future.

It is in this final combination of zombie lore, economic turmoil, and marginalized race-informed perspectives, that capitalist realism finally appears to crumble from the weight of the critics of the capitalist system. There is nothing left to gain from this perspective. The critique on the system is so expansive and damning there's nothing left to hold capitalist realism in place, and the system collapses. However, capitalist realism is

28 very reliant on the idea that there must be not only a collapse but a system beyond capitalism, and on further examination, this is where things might begin to fall apart for this film.

In the ending scene, we see the new world being taught, by Ms. Justineau, a figure of the capitalist system. Despite all the quite obvious rhetoric in the film around the necessity to build a new world, it is strange that the new world is being educated by a figure of the old system. Ms. Justineau, being the very teacher who was in charge of educating Melanie and the other children, acts as a figurehead of the ideological state apparatus and the mechanisms keeping capitalism going even in the event of a collapse.

Even as she is the only other character truly vouching for Melanie’s humanity, her survival could be seen as the ideological state apparatus perpetuating itself. Even in the event of a total collapse, the ideology of capitalism is still reproducing itself, heralding the system's inevitable return. However, this is not the only interpretation of this event.

There is a more sacrificial reading of this event, in which Justineau represents a casting off of the old ideology toward building a new world not meant for her. In one of the few critical pieces about The Girl with All the Gifts, Chris Osmond looks at the film as an argument for the need for a new ideology of education. He exposes the issues of the education system in the opening scene and their real-world issues of exploitation, stating,

“Most education’s goals regarding their students are instrumental; in this world [of the film], far fewer pains are taken to conceal the fact (Osmond 67). He as well picks up on the idea that students are treated as instruments of the system and not as individuals, defining education along similar lines to Althusser. Still, the ending scene exhibits a sort

29 of complete sacrifice teachers must make in the effort to reform that system toward something positive. In the final moment, Ms. Justineau is trapped within a room protecting her from the world outside, mirroring the cell Melanie begins the film in. The scene begins with her in tears on the floor before her class begins as the camera is zoomed in, isolating her alone. Justineau is distraught, tapped out. While she has a power in guiding the new world, she is this new world’s prisoner. She is driving forward a future she cannot live within. Osmond reaches a sort of philosophical conclusion from this information. He states, “The teacher is rewarded for her teaching by the surgical excision of all aspects of her life except…her teaching” (72). Her love for her students transforms her into a teaching object, removed from all context. She is not set by a state ideology and has become a pure vessel of teaching. This is not a perpetuation of the same state of teaching but an evolution of teaching itself, past the previous ideologies.

Although this outlook is extremely bittersweet, it is her alone who gets to survive. As

Osmond notes, “we who choose to evolve in ways we have never imagined will still be around” (73). Justineau is evolving to teach a new system beyond herself and become more in line with what is best for the next generation, and can, therefore, live beyond the system she benefited from.

Osmond is not alone in this interpretation. In Virginia Carrington’s essay “The

‘Next People’,” she as well comments that “as educators it is our obligation and our joy to defend, protect and above all, educate the ‘next people’. But as we do, we should understand that the world and the future belong to them” (33). On the surface, Ms.

Justineau is a surviving aspect of capitalist ideology, but even she can be an advocate for

30 something new. While she cannot truly live in the future she wants to build, she can progress toward it. She, through self-sacrifice, can help build a future she’s fundamentally incompatible with for the good of the next generation.

The culmination of this idea resides on the knowledge of generational differences, and the opportunity afforded only to a younger more marginalized generation. Dr.

Caraway and Ms. Justineau have already been tainted by the systems they were raised in and are fundamentally incompatible with Melanie’s new world. As both Osmond and

Carrington assume, Justineau acts as an agent to build a world she cannot live in. Melanie doesn’t have this issue. She hasn’t been tainted by the systems ideologies as the adults have. Carrington very much focuses on this idea as she examines an overall trend in young adult zombie narratives, in which an adolescent zombie is viewed as “a transient phase from which an individual may emerge as either increasingly human or as increasingly Boney [zombie-esque],” (31). In Melanie’s case, this builds her a perfect trifecta of liminal spaces. She is a marginalized person of color, a zombie, and an adolescent, all situations reflecting possibilities for change. She is so dissociated with what society considers the norm, human even, that she can act in ways that seem to defy what is possible, which includes becoming post-capital. Carrington picks this up as she reflects on how The Girl with All the Gifts paints a message that the next zombie generation, “will create a new society that is better suited to the new worlds in which the young will find themselves” (33). Melanie, in her state of marginalization, is uniquely adapted to building a post-capitalist world suited for her needs.

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While Carrington never mentions race in her paper, it still fits within her argument. A zombie, being a reflection of many real-world racial tensions, is the main catalyst that affords the children the viewpoint to enact change. Melanie has been marginalized and mistreated by the system because she comes from an exploited demographic. Yet, it is this marginalized position that tips the scales toward choosing the zombie over the human world. As for the other characters in the film, things are grimmer.

The zombie (the disaster affected marginalized people) holds the greatest voice to breaking capitalist realism. Meanwhile, those supported by the system cannot see past capitalist realism. They can support the means for its destruction but cannot exist past it.

Unfortunately, a depiction of capitalism’s fall is still not enough. Whether or not this film itself breaks capitalist realism is complicated when the question of interpassivity must still be confronted. To show that the film is not an interpassive object, it must prove to actually inspire action against capitalism.

The overall critic reviews of The Girl with All the Gifts have been rather uninsightful, although some show glimpses of being critical of capitalism. For most reviews of any film, interpassivity is inevitably true. It just isn’t in the cultural tradition to review a film by speaking about its message and then talking about what action should be taken toward it. Not surprisingly, this is true for much of the reviews about The Girl with

All the Gifts as well. Still, some do lean toward something constructive. Nikky Baughan observes how the film exposes, “man’s inhumanity to man, the rapid evolution of disease and the devastating effects of environmental change,” but does not say much about the takeaway from that experience (60). She also remarks on the main journey as Melanie’s

32 personal “self-enlightenment” rather than a journey of a larger shift of bigger systemic issues. A review by critic Gerard Gibson states that the film “reminds us that we are passengers on this planet, and are stewards, not owners and that it might serve us well to respect the planet, nature, and each other more” (189). While a rather simple and sentimental take away from the film, this still does touch on the crux of the narrative argument around the incompatibility of the current system with the world around it. It can’t be claimed that these are clear cuts from interpassivity. Neither critic frames their review as a call for action, but these are not the only frames of reference the film is being examined from.

Very recently this film has been picked up more in the world of academia, which has been interpreting calls to action from the film. Using the two pieces already mentioned, Victoria Carrington’s “The ‘Next People’” and Chris Osmond’s “Time to

Die” share more than passive observations on the text. One of Carrington’s takeaways from the film is that “It is our obligation and our joy to defend, protect and above all, educate the ‘next people’” (33). Chris Osmond, with his interpretation of the movies critical lens toward education and the future, states that to survive the coming turmoil

“may mean accepting radically different terms for living than may have been considered—or even available—previously,” which is a pretty direct call to action (69).

Both not only see something critical within the film but see a call to action within the film. For Carrington and Osmond, the film itself is not enough to enact change. Actions are necessary. While it would be nearly impossible to claim that the film directly inspired

33 them to take that action after analyzing it, there is a tinge of true inspiration toward action arising from it to some.

Regardless of whether The Girl with all the Gifts directly breaks capitalist realism, the film certainly tests the limits of the idea by using the zombie genre and it’s contexts to show how capitalism realism can theoretically fail from a marginalized perspective while weakened by a crisis. From its background in Haitian myths dealing with exploitation and revolution mixed with contemporary directed lenses toward capitalism give contemporary zombie literature an extremely critical lens, as seen in this film. The Girl with All the Gifts holds context to imagine a world in which extreme criticism can lead past capitalism. As Ibram X. Kendi has suggested one must be both anti-racist and anti-capitalist due to their deeply ingrained nature to each other. The Girl with All the Gifts exposes how contemporary zombie literature is in a unique position to combine and work against both racism and capitalism simultaneously. Melanie can imagine past capitalist realism because she is marginalized and critical of the system.

With the system's ingrained weaknesses being exposed through a crisis, she can seize the opportunity to enact real change. The Girl with All the Gifts reflects an extreme situation and perspective where there is no more room for capitalism. However, these claims about contemporary zombie fiction's critical lens toward capitalist realism can be better told when seen through multiple texts. The fact that the author of this film is a white male also cast some questions as to what this genre would say when told from an actual person of color. To examine this angle of this argument, we turn to the novel, Zone One.

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Chapter 2: Zone One: Futurity, Post-Racism, and Language

Zombie narratives were born from perspectives from people of color. While

Carey views some interesting conclusions by borrowing that perspective, it would be completely amiss to not examine how these narratives are used contemporarily by a person of color, particularly from an African American perspective. This is not to say that narratives by African American authors are inherently greater or lesser works. It is to say that African American perspectives reflect the genre’s background the most directly. As such, Colson Whitehead’s Zone One is a rather meaningful text to discuss. This text shares a similar discussion toward capitalist realism that The Girl with all the Gifts expresses. Zone One is critical of capitalist realism in giving a perspective that capitalism itself is a walking dead, only perpetuating through the propaganda of futurism. Even as this is critiqued through the marginalized perspective of an exploited person of color, capitalist propaganda may be so all-encompassing that even those who are being exploited by the state cannot fully visualize the ways to fight back. However, the narrative suggests that the pursuit of finding the right language of criticism to envision past the capitalist system is still an effort worth pursuing, reflecting the genre as a whole.

Firstly, it provides an interesting context when looking at capitalist realism, to examine the perceived relationship of capitalism to this book. This book’s production concerning capitalism provides an interesting reflection of zombie narratives' overall perceived relationship with capitalism. The relationship between the genre itself and the author to capitalism poses the text as disjunct with capitalism. Zombie literature has gained a negative reputation as being simple genre fiction, content only written to be

35 sold. Even with all its underlying criticisms, it is perceived as a commodity holding no greater meaning than in its ability to sell tickets and accumulate capital. General audiences do not perceive this genre as saying something critical toward anything. This view is apparent in the reaction to the writing of Zone One.

Colson Whitehead is a best-selling, Pulitzer prize-winning, well-celebrated

African American author. He is known for his gritty realism pieces and deep political commentary on race and systemic injustice. For example, his novel John Henry Days is a meditation on African American folklore, heralded as an intelligent “cynical portrayal of

African American masculinities past and present” (Tettenborn 271). His more recent novel, The Nickel Boys, is a story about children in Florida who are victims of racism and abuse, described as possessing “the requirements of the finest and most penetrating art”

(Hensher). Without a doubt, Colson Whitehead is viewed as an artist, with work that has more to offer than capital. He is viewed as something greater than the machinations of commodification, and he is not the author expected to write genre zombie fiction.

Nowhere is this perceived disjunct illustrated more clearly than in a New York

Times’ review of Zone One. It states, “A literary novelist writing a genre novel is like an intellectual dating a porn star… horror fans and gore gourmands will soon have him on their radar. He has my sympathy” (Duncan). Zombie literature, in this review, is below

Whitehead. This is a genre not meant for an intellectual crowd looking for deep criticism of society. Its fans are only “gore gourmands,” looking for spectacle over substance. The genre is brashly, and rather rudely, compared to a “porn star.” The implication is that zombie literature is a commodity, only there to tantalize and make money. Meanwhile,

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Colson Whitehead is “the intellectual,” providing something greater than what the genre has to provide. The production of this book lies in an uncomfortable space. It is a book in a genre viewed only for consumption, yet, because of its author, it is also something that demands artistic consideration. It holds a greater possibility of escaping capitalism as it is written by an author that gives the audience license to view the genre from a more critical perspective. It brings them into a mind-frame thought impossible for the zombie world.

This is not to say its production is beyond capitalism. The novel was published by

Anchor Books, a company under the gigantic publishing Penguin Random House conglomerate, itself half-owned by the massive media conglomerate Bertelsmann (Zone

One; Our Story). The text cannot be argued as constructed apart from the capitalist system and made with no monetary incentive in mind even as it was made by a well- respected intellectual author. The text can put the audience in space where the relationship of the author, the text, and the genre as a whole to capitalism are more complicated than they assume. Because of the status of the author, the underlying themes of zombie narrative are given more permission to shine in the eyes of the reader. This becomes critical when looking at the response to this text later down the line. However, the story itself must be looked at first, to see what message it actually brings.

Zone One is a zombie narrative published in 2011. It was Colson Whitehead’s first and only book of genre fiction. It is an atypical zombie narrative with little in the way of massive gore or any action scenes at all. Instead, it is a slow and somber delve into the memories and thoughts of the main character, Mark Spitz, as he goes through his day as a sweeper, a zombie cleanup detail. While his daily work is killing zombies, it

37 comes off with a flair of monotony, more akin to a typical day job than a death-defying adventure. Instead of fighting for his life, Mark Spitz daydreams. He thinks of his past and the possible future to come as he toils away in clearing New York City along with his company. His stated purpose is to clear the way for the construction of a new American government in New York City (Whitehead 9). This arising new government very much appears to be a capitalist one, only interested in rebuilding the capitalist system without any outlook or interest in alternatives.

In writing the novel, Colson Whitehead was intent on telling a story of a nation obsessed with recreating a capitalist world. In an interview with David Naimon,

Whitehead stated a key idea that guided his writing, “I think that the worst parts of contemporary society will come back quickly. So, for me, that’s marketing, our need for fresh organic greens, it’s corporate branding, a need for catchy slogans.” For Whitehead, in the event of an apocalypse, the world will be reclaimed first for consumerism and capital. Instead of imagining a world of people getting back on their feet, Whitehead describes a nation reinventing the need for consumerism and the propagation of corporations. Instead of focusing on the methods of providing shelter or food, there is a priority for brand propaganda, “Corporate slogans.”

The obsession with reclaiming capitalism supports capitalist realism directly.

Fisher begins his book on capitalist realism by describing how an alternative to capitalism is more unimaginable than the end of the world (1). Whitehead specifically wrote with the frame of mind that the world will struggle to imagine something other than capitalism even in the apocalypse. Whitehead himself claims about the society in the

38 novel, “It’s all they know. So of course, it’s those creature comforts and consumerist ideals they’ve been chasing their whole life that will guide them pretty swiftly as things get back to normal” (Naimon). Whitehead deliberately constructed a novel in which the current society is obsessed with reclaiming capitalism as it is unable to break capitalist realism. Instead of working toward a new goal, the system acts on the instilled ideologies that make up capitalism, and there is a clear “reproduction of the means of production”

(127). The world Whitehead creates is one in which the ideologies of capital are so instilled that the reproduction of the same nation with the same faults is inevitable.

It is clear in the text that the government in Zone One directly pursues rebuilding capitalism. The new nation is a self-described phoenix of the old system, re-emerging with the same prospects and same ills. So ingrained is this notion, their new government is named the American Phoenix, a rebirth of the same system. They are defined by what the protagonist claims as the “prevailing delusion” of “Pheenie optimism” in their primary pursuit to rebuild America just as it was, a prevailing capitalist America (16).

This shows a perspective in which the ideological state apparatus is in full effect. Not only are they rebuilding the system, but they are doing it optimistically, with direct intent.

The denizens of this new world are only in pursuit of the ideologies instilled in the old world.

This means the new system being built will also reinstill all the same exploitations of the old. For example, when describing the sweeper crew’s resources for their highly dangerous cleanup detail, the narrator states, “First Buffalo got what they needed, then the military, then civilian population, and finally the sweepers” (22). As Buffalo is the

39 name associated with the ruling elite, the current capital lying in Buffalo, New York, there is a similar social hierarchy to the old system. Those in the most laborious positions are left with the least resources, and those higher in the class ranking get resources first, even as they are in the most secured position. There are not even any clear details of how Mark Spitz is being compensated for his work. Instead of any direct compensation he is given the promise of a brighter future filled with positive PR and a vague notion of the return of consumerism. In refusion to this, one of Mark Spitz’s co- workers states, “You think we’re going to end up here? We ain’t special. They’re going to put the rich people here” (89). With the rather startling fact that there even is a “rich” class of people during an apocalypse, the social class structures of a bourgeoisie class accumulating wealth and a proletariat class having their work exploited are being perpetuated.

It appears that the labor of Mark Spitz and his company is only going toward the benefit of others who are accumulating the capital of the new system while they are being left behind only with hopes. The new government created a whole division toward rescuing the wealthy and the powerful to act as “official sponsors” to the new government “in exchange for tax breaks” (48). As ridiculous as it sounds to offer tax breaks to the wealthy during an apocalyptic event, it shows the new system's dedication to maintaining the old class hierarchy. Meanwhile, the government's attitude toward everyone else is described in the words, “The civilians out in the wild… would be welcomed into the system in time, and they would obey” (49). This denotes clear systems of control and exploitation. One class is given monetary incentives for joining the system,

40 making it easier to consolidate their power. One class is ordered to obey and be subjected to the system. This furthers a clear capitalist-driven class divide. One class is given the monetary means to keep power while the other is exploited with a vague hope of a brighter future.

This is very reflective of the ways Karl Marx denotes the initial rise of capitalism.

Marx laid out his ideas of the history that led to capitalist society. He states how the bourgeoisie “has agglomerated population, centralized the means of production, and has concentrated property in a few hands” (The Manifesto of the Communist Party 17).

Modern capitalism, to Marx, is an accumulation of people and property into the control of a few. Similarly, in the event of the apocalypse, the American Phoenix of Zone One has slowly but surely re-accumulated the population by welcoming the “civilians out in the wild,” while providing tax incentives to the already wealthy. The new system is a rebirth of the old capitalism. Even this mode of rebirth itself Marx attributes to capitalism when he states, “The bourgeoisie cannot exist without constantly revolutionizing the instruments of production, and thereby the relations of production, and with them the whole relations of society” (The Manifesto of the Communist Party 16). Capitalism thrives on the mechanisms that keep it from stagnating. The relations are always changing, always being reinvented. They change locations, rules, and leaders, while at its core it remains the same. Even the mode of acting as a rebirth of the capitalist state is just another mode the state has always been in already. The state of Zone One is a clear reflection of the capitalist system and its methods of class struggle and exploitation. With these mechanisms, capitalism can outlast the end of the world.

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The main ideology of the American Phoenix lies in the hope of normalcy and stability propagated through PR. There is much emphasis in the book on the public push of optimism toward a return of capitalism. While thinking on the return of commodities like toilet paper, Mark Spitz is haunted by the state's main slogan “We Make Tomorrow” which is claimed to be “insistent as malware” (Whitehead 30). Such a slogan denotes a marketed cold optimism toward a positive future. While at the same time, it is a meaningless platitude that provides no real information on how that future will be reached. It is not a statement about what the future will look like, as much as it is about having control over that future. With the context of Mark Spitz being reminded of this slogan as he contemplates the return of commodification, this optimism is tied to the promise of a return of capitalistic functions. The narrator relating this to “malware,” suggests that this is a forced perspective. No one asks for malware. It injects itself in a computer irrevocably with its content. These ideas of optimism for the capitalist future are being targeted and cultivated.

The narrator himself gives a perspective that the optimism PR is a very deliberate tactic. When discussing the mechanism of the new world’s optimism, they state,

“tomorrow needs a marketing rollout, hope, psychopharmacology, a rigorous policing of bad thinking, anything to stoke the delusion that we’ll make it through” (251). The future for the current system is perpetuated through the propaganda for it. The system is policing any thinking that isn’t following the propaganda. Capitalism isn’t an inevitable reality for the future, but the system wants to convince people that it is so. This is a very stark reflection of Mark Fisher’s notion that late capitalism is defined by a “ubiquitous

42 tendency toward PR-production” (44). The late capitalist state creates everything into PR to perpetuate its notions. PR helps create the “real” in which the people live. By creating incessant slogans and cultivating ideals, the system builds optimism for its return by being all-encompassing in people’s thoughts. Zone One takes this idea and exposes the

PR of the state as pure “delusion” in the face of the apocalypse.

It is the era of crisis that begins to dismantle the facade of the propaganda of futurism. Leif Sorenson describes the comparison between Zone One’s government and the government around the time of its creation. The novel reflects the era’s clear feeling of crisis in the wake of fears of terrorism, Obama’s election, and the great recession. He claims that it “captures the tension between a widespread sense of crisis and the equally pervasive influence of futurism, which figures crises” (560). Sorenson defines this idea of futurism as he states, “late capitalism insists that the future will be an endless repetition of its cycles of creative destruction” (562). Futurism is the hope of deferral of absolute chaos. It is a belief that the repetitions of crisis will always be overcome by the state. The government calling themselves the American Phoenix is a sharp nod to this idea. In a reflection of Marx’s description, capitalism is perpetuated in the hope of rebirth, reinvention, and continuing the comfortability of consumerism even in the event of a disaster. Furthermore, the very notion of a “post” apocalypse supports this claim, as it suggests that even in a total disaster there is an afterword. A true apocalypse challenges the notion that there can be a future at all.

The disaster in the novel is not one that can easily be labeled as “post” apocalyptic. To call it “post” suggests that a way past the apocalypse has been found. In

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Zone One, this is far from the truth. They are dealing with a full breakdown caused by the rampant plague. As the population continues to dwindle, it is an event that could very truly bring an end to things. In light of this, Sorenson suggests that:

“Zone One encourages us to question the logic of deferral at the heart of futurism… The ‘post’ [in post-apocalypse] places us on the far side of a rupture and encourages us to see any impending crisis as another transition, and not as a potential conclusion. Zone One chillingly dramatizes the dangers of deferral, because sometimes the end does come, and no arsenal of prefixes can hold it off” (590).

By imagining a future in which the apocalypse can be complete, the system’s notion of futurity falters. Futurity begins to be revealed as a lie that destroys not only the propaganda surrounding but the notion of post-apocalypse itself. When there is nothing left to defer to, there is nothing left for futurism to hold on. This doesn’t mean that apocalypse inevitably brings people to this conclusion, but it does expose the faults of futurism to be found. If one realizes the perspective that “sometimes the end does come” then futurity no longer holds any viability, and faith in capitalism as the only/best option is put into question. This requires a specific perspective that would recognize this inconsistency. A perspective like that of the protagonist, Mark Spitz.

Mark Spitz is a character who most certainly views the system from a marginalized perspective, as he views himself as an outsider to the system he participates in. Constantly, the narrator places Mark Spitz as an entity beyond the typical ‘pheenie’ citizens, eager to rebuild the world. The narrator states, “He wasn’t like the rest of them… You never heard Mark Spitz say ‘When this is all over’ or ‘Once things get back to normal’” (32). Ideologically and nominatively Mark Spitz is designated as something outside what the system is pushing for. This difference is specifically along the lines of

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Mark Spitz’s lack of faith in seeing the apocalypse as a moment of transition. He does not abide by the notions of futurity and does not see the system as inevitably winning over the crisis. Instead, Mark Spitz is more in tune with the chaos beyond the system. In a flashback to before the American Phoenix, Mark Spitz considers his new place in the zombie world with, “He was a mediocre man… Now the world was mediocre, rendering him perfect. He asked himself: How can I die? I was always like this. Now I am more me” (183). He thrives best in a space where the system no longer exists.

The zombie chaos is a position Mark Spitz views as idyllic. He is more than in tune with the world beyond the system, he is immortal within it. Ideologically, Mark

Spitz is in tune with a mediocre space. Mediocrity is a sharp contrast to the optimistic futurity of the American Phoenix. Mark Spitz is not thriving in the notions of betterment.

He does not abide by the notions of ever-improving and triumphing. He is content in the struggle of survival alone. The apocalypse gives him a greater perspective. Mark Spitz no longer believes in the system in part because he has seen a vision of an alternative. In the system's weakest point, visions of a possible alternative are exposed, and the system is scrutinized for it. The system provides no clear betterment for him after he realizes how in tune he can be beyond it. Late in the novel, a further context for this is exposed.

Mark Spitz is revealed within the last chapter of the novel to be a person of color.

Mark Spitz is a nickname borrowed from a famous Olympic swimmer. The protagonist is ironically called this because of an event where he refused to swim to avoid danger. Only in the last chapter is this revealed to be because of the “Black-people-can’t-swim thing”

(287). Nowhere else in the novel is Mark Spitz’s ethnicity ever directly mentioned, but it

45 does immediately add context to his marginalized position and distrust of the system. The narrator adds this context with the claim: “Would the old bigotries be reborn as well.

When they cleared out this zone and the next, and so on… They could certainly reanimate prejudice, parking tickets, and reruns. There were plenty of things in the world that deserved to stay dead, yet they walked'' (288). There is a concern about what future the American Phoenix is creating for people of color. He is seriously concerned about the eventual return of bigotry, and systems of oppression that kept people marginalized in the name of security. Even as these things associated with the old system should “stay dead,” the current system is advocating for resurrecting them.

Mark Spitz’s race immediately reframes his perspectives throughout the novel.

Although race isn’t mentioned until the very end, in retrospect, new lenses and inquiries are placed on all the discussions in the novel. Does Mark Spitz feel more comfortable outside the system because he feels less racially discriminated against? Is part of the sentiment of him clearing living spaces for a separate class somewhat informed by race?

Does Mark Spitz end up in this lower-class job because of his race? Mark Spitz is marked by a nickname given as hate speech. The context of race and racism defines his character.

It is revealed to have been relevant from the very beginning, always framing the narrative even as it is not mentioned directly. His position as a marginalized character is relevant to his ability to envision past the system more thoroughly, and race informs this whether the narrator or Mark Spitz himself is willing to address it. The system he is building is, in part, not for him because the previous systems of American capitalism were built for exploiting people of color. He is uniquely able to ally himself with the non-capitalist

46 zombie chaos of the world than the capitalist vision of futurity. The capitalist future is not for him. When examined further, unlike in The Girl with All the Gifts, things are not so clearly defined as ‘the state is bad’ and ‘zombies are good.’

Mark Spitz is marked by his race and the systems labeling him, whether inside the walls of the American Phoenix or out in the zombie chaos. Mark Spitz has adopted his nickname born from bigotry. He never brings up this name’s origins. He never criticizes its underlying bigotry. He never even mentions his real name. To Mark Spitz, there is only ‘Mark Spitz.’ This marking of oneself by an externally applied term of hate speech reflects W. B. De Bois’s famous notion of double consciousness. Mark Spitz lives in a mode “which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world” (Hinchey 9). He is defined by a racist perspective on him rather than himself having a claim to his own name, his own consciousness. Whether he is rebuilding the system or in the zombie chaos, he is always Mark Spitz. He is always defined by the perspective of race whether he thinks he has escaped it or not.

The novel’s lack of acknowledgment of race exposes its critique of a post-racial world. Grace Heneks’ in The American Subplot argues that “removing Spitz’s racial identity does not remove racism or racists beliefs in this world” (67). She speaks on the novel as a very sharp critique of the notion of a post-racial society, the society that Spitz sees in the zombie world. Even in a complete collapse where race is no longer on the forefront, race is still proven to frame people's perceptions. Mark Spitz is always labeled by race. She goes further to claim, “Whitehead implies that any attempts to reconstruct society while leaving untouched the larger problems of racial inequality and injustice

47 underwritten by white supremacy will result in failure” (Heneks 74). Mark Spitz cannot envision the systems of capitalism until it’s envisioned with the contexts of racism. To return to the words of Ibram X. Kendi, “Antiracist policies cannot eliminate class racism without anti-capitalist policies. Anticapitalism cannot eliminate class racism without antiracism” (159). Mark Spitz is missing the crucial element of considering how race factors into the system he finds himself in, as has zombie literature. In this perspective, when Heneks claims that the only way for Mark Spitz to transcend race is to “become a zombie” this doesn’t feel like the hopeful vision as it is in The Girl with All Gifts (75).

The narrative lack of adding race into the perspective throughout the book is a crucial missing element in the language of criticism Mark Spitz provides.

This is an interesting reflection of the zombie genre itself. Being a zombie in Zone

One, being post-racial, is a farce. The zombie represents a sort of ignorance to the ills of the system, reflecting all that the genre has lost. Zombie narratives, while initially dealing directly with issues of race, began losing that context in the 20th century. Zone One exposes how losing that context also makes the systemic issues of capital harder to address. The ills of the system can only be fully addressed when race is addressed as well, and most zombies no longer provide this. Mark Spitz lacks this crucial part of the language of criticism and cannot get it by looking toward the zombie chaos. In a way, addressing this fault readmits race into the language of criticism in the zombie genre. By exposing its lack, the text addresses its importance.

Mark Spitz contributes to his own false futurity without actually facing the problems of the system directly, and this results in failure. Despite the issues with the

48 system, Mark Spitz continues to support it. He denies belief in futurism, but his job is in the expansion of the PR of futurism. Mark Spitz’s superior directly claims that cleaning

New York is “PR,” as “It’ll be years before we’re able to resettle this island” (311). Mark

Spitz denies the PR and at the same time participates in it. At no point in the novel does he actively work against the system. He never has a full realization that there is no future for him unless action against the system is taken. As a result, the novel ends with the walls crashing down on all the progress and security Mark Spitz was building. While realizing the false narrative of futurity, even Mark Spitz is not able to enact change to build something new. He too is trapped in the doomed system.

On the other side of the wall, Mark Spitz’s hopes of surviving in harmony with the zombie chaos are a post-racial farce. Perhaps, “survival only works when reality is transparent rather than idealized” (Heneks 75). Mark Spitz cannot truly escape the system, as the context of race and racism follows outside of it. On the other side of that wall, there is no liberation, only complete death. The issues need to be addressed head- on, and the unfettered zombie world represents the opposite. Unlike in The Girl with All the Gifts where embracing the zombie world is a liberation from the previous system,

Zone One uses zombies as an allegory for the tragedy waiting if the issues are not addressed directly. This is not to argue that racism stems from capitalism alone, or that racism can’t exist outside of capitalism. It is arguing that to truly work past the capitalist system, systemic racism needs to be addressed as well. Even if disastrous settings help critique capitalism, they are not enough to actually break it down before a real collapse.

With Mark Spitz, a person of color, unable to inject racism in the language of criticism, it

49 would appear that this book is rather in support of capitalist realism. However, even as circumventing capitalist realism is not possible for the characters within the novel, the novel does suggest that reaching a post-capitalism is still possible.

Zone One, despite the finality of its ending, suggests that even in the despair of the failing system there is meaning in searching for the right language to live beyond it.

Finding the right language is a substantial theme from the beginning of the story. The novel opens with Mark Spitz looking over the city of New York and thinking, “There was a message there, if he could teach himself the language” (7). For Sorenson, this scene represents the promise of “Urban Sophistication,” that if he could “unravel” the city's mysteries “he could become a part of it” (585). Sorenson uses this interpretation to show urban environments as a “predatory entity” that feeds off the hopes of people trying to reach impossible goals (586). It is a sort of capitalist monster, feeding off the hope of people trying to find the language of success that is mostly barred to them. However, events further in the story paint the pursuit of language in a different light. While Mark

Spitz is tasked with clearing cars from the freeway, one of his co-workers is very particular in the way she is clearing the cars. Once completed, Mark Spitz is taken up in a helicopter and his co-worker’s project is revealed to be a long line of cars dotted in a fashion similar to morse code but of its own lexicon. Mark Spitz jumbles his mind trying to interpret the message of cars as he questions what it is for. He asks himself for “what readers” is this created (289). This shows doubt that the words are meant at futurity propaganda, or even for the currently living at all. He concludes “We don’t know how to read it yet. All we can do right now is pay witness” and the narrator follows this with,

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“She wrote her way into the future” (290). This is not Mark Spitz trying to decode the old languages of capitalist success, nor is this the language of post-capitalist futurity. It is a language for the future, a language no one is yet to interpret. It can pierce the veil into the unknown future even for a character who claims not to be convinced of futurity.

Mark Spitz, for a moment, reads a language beyond himself and the world he knows, a language able to puncture through capitalist realism. This isn’t a message to the people inside the system, even Mark Spitz cannot interpret the language, but he can recognize it as something beyond. It is a message for whatever comes next, and Mark

Spitz is in pursuit of that message where others are not. Even if Mark Spitz fails, and is not able to interpret the language to last past the capitalist collapse, the pursuit is worthwhile. This is one of the last things he contemplates before the walls start crumbling down. As they do, he states “The world wasn’t ending: it had ended and now they were in the new place. They could not recognize it because they had never seen it before” (321). Just like the language he sees in cars, Mark Spitz alone begins to envision a true ‘after.’ It is a future that he may not be a part of, one that he may not have the language to express but will exist. He recognizes there will be post-capitalism with or without him. And as it will exist, he pursues the language to speak to it.

This very directly reflects the notions of Michael Clune, that if we have a sharp enough critique of capitalism it can lead toward a circumvention of capitalist realism. All we have to do is keep searching for the correct language. Clune, in his argument against capitalist realism, claims “Once we see literary works not as evidence of actually existing capitalism, but as intellectual and material examples of escape from capitalist realism, a

51 meaningful relation both to other disciplines and urgent political questions become possible” (196). Literature that attempts to be beyond capitalism, realistic or not, begins a process of meaningfully changing and critiquing capitalism. Mark Spitz spends his last moments before the collapse contemplating literature he cannot interpret, a language that is beyond the capitalist ideology he has been given. Within this secret literature lies the context of race which he lacks in his societal critique. Still, he can get closer to grasping this language he cannot interpret, and this act is an act against capitalist realism. This is also reflected in how Mark Spitz views the apocalypse.

Viewing the zombie chaos as post-racial does not address the capitalist system, but it does put Mark Spitz further into a mode of critiquing that system and closer toward finding a language beyond the hegemony he finds himself in. Even as Mark Spitz fails to find the right language to circumvent the system, interpreting the language that can is not impossible. To do it, Mark Spitz must confront the systemic contexts he ignores within the system and adds a stronger voice of marginalization within the capitalist critique.

Even as he fails, something must come next, whether he’s a part of it or not. Capitalist realism can be circumvented, and those who cannot circumvent it can still act toward finding the right language to circumvent it.

This is a narrative particularly suited for zombie literature. Zombie literature today is in a very anti-capitalist mode. This story in particular critiques capitalism in very direct manners. Colson Whitehead quotes George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead as one of his main inspirations. He states Night of the Living Dead’s black protagonist and the way it reflected “post-civil rights” attitudes on race are what got him attached to the

52 genre (Naimon). The context of race was more and more obfuscated from there, put in the backburner of a more detached critique of capitalism. The way Mark Spitz’s world reflects a disconnect to the issues of race matches nicely on how the genre itself disconnected from its race informed roots. The novel works best in this genre because this genre is where the reintegration of race is the most powerful and most reflective of the genre itself. The capitalist realism critique works best because this is a zombie narrative.

This is a view shared by the criticisms of Carl Swanson. He argues that given the novel's deep meditations of race, “the novel’s generic qualities are absolutely crucial to its form” and it is “a vindication for zombie fans and critics who saw something of this potential in the zombie figure long ago” (Swanson 401). The discussions and themes created in the book are not put forward despite its zombie context but through its zombie context. It is an argument showing a prospect through capitalist realism, using a medium that is most suitable for finding that correct language to break it. Zombies are already steeped in criticisms of capitalism and racism. Like Mark Spitz, it is already in search of the right language, and already using the context of apocalypse to gain glimpses into something beyond. From the novel's argument, by interjecting race and marginalized perspectives back into the genre, we can become closer to finding that language that can last past capitalism. Even if the piece itself examines a path to circumvent capitalist realism, to work past interpassivity what ultimately matters is if this piece is inspiring actual action.

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The prospects of working against interpassivity are strong. The pieces of Grace

Heneks and Leif Sorenson both call for action against the systems of capitalism in rather direct terms. Leif Sorenson’s entire piece is a dismantling of late-capitalism’s notions of futurity in an attempt to show how Zone One is critical of capitalism. It is a piece showing how Zone One argues against current late-capitalist modes of futurism, and why they should be fought against as “sometimes the end does come” (Sorenson 590). Grace

Heneks’ work, while not directly about capitalism, is still about the systemic issue of post-racism under capitalism. Heneks ends her paper with a very direct call to action as she states, “we are doomed to fail as long we are unwilling to address the continuing legacy of race and racism in the U.S” (76-7). She very clearly picks up on a dire need to change the narrative and calls to take action on that system. Even as Heneks’ criticisms are little directed toward capitalism and more toward racism, they still act as a systemic call to action rather than an interpassive reading of the story. Like for The Girl with All the Gifts, this shows the world of academia tends to provide an analysis more directed toward creating action.

There is a much wider field of criticism being interested in this story than in The

Girl with All the Gifts, and this can be attributed to Zone One’s writer. Swanson claims that what makes this text valuable and unique to the eyes of many is in its “marrying the pulpiest of pulp genres to a respected literary name” (401). This is not to say that everyone who reads this book will come out of it as revolutionaries, but it does go to suggest that the reputation of the author reveals a larger more meaningful systemic critique than the genre is normally given credit for. This book, in particular, leads to

54 greater criticism of capitalism because it comes from a well-respected source in academia. This cannot, however, be used as evidence of this book inspiring direct change toward capitalism and thus denying interpassivity and capitalist realism. It does suggest the narrative and its perception certainly perforates the armor of capitalist realism

As it is suggested both inside and outside of the narrative, truly breaking with capitalist realism is an extremely difficult effort. Yet, having the right tools and environment for criticism and the right lenses to view the systems through is still worth its merit. Even if these things themselves appear to fail, as they appear to fail Mark Spitz, the pursuit of finding that right language to mark something beyond the known capitalist system is never criticized. It is almost like a romantic vision in Mark Spitz’s final flashback before he witnesses the collapse. In that way, I would claim that I personally witness that as a call to action. It is a call to go and search for the correct language, to keep testing the limits of our known reality. It calls to find a language outside of what is known before it is too late. Even if it is too late, it is only too late for us. Something will live on past capitalism at the end of Zone One. Something will find a language to survive past the known structures even if that thing is inhuman. Perhaps, this means that to test the limits of capitalist realism we must also test what we consider human, which means to seek out those marginalized perspectives on the border of what is considered the ‘real.’ It could also mean that there is no hope, and the only thing living in the future is not going to be humans at all, us being too damaged by our own ills. This can only be argued conceptually through these books. While both Zone One and The Girl with All the Gifts grapple with capitalist realism, the question of their actual impact can only truly be

55 examined if we put these stories in the context of modern movements. They must be examined in the context of what overall systemic changes are happening currently to see if they reflect or inform those current changes.

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Chapter 3: Reflections of a Zombie World

To analyze a work through the theory of capitalist realism requires a consideration of not only of the content of the work but also outside results. To beat the notion of interpassivity there must not only be a representation of something breaking capitalist realism. There must be action following it. However, it would be nearly impossible to draw a straight line from either work to an event that is circumventing capitalism. What can be done is an investigation into crises currently happening in the world and see if there are any notions critical of capitalism that reflect the themes from the texts. Since zombie narratives stem from primarily western fiction, it is best to focus on western capitalist states. While there still cannot be a direct causal relationship between these texts and real-world events, this investigation can lead to another important conclusion.

The current events around crises, marginalization, and capitalism are similar enough that contemporary zombie narratives act as part of and a reflection of the current cultural actions. This chapter will primarily focus on three major crises that provide the best reflections of the texts: the COVID-19 pandemic, the Black Lives Matter protests, and climate change. These crises expose the weaknesses of capitalism, especially through marginalized perspectives, and can lead toward breaking capitalist realism, reflecting the narratives in Zone One and The Girl With all the Gifts.

To focus on the U.S as an example, when viewing the COVID-19 pandemic through the eyes of race, capitalism and class struggle stands out as an obvious issue within the crisis. The COVID-19 pandemic, which is ongoing during the writing of this thesis, has undoubtedly affected the lives of everyone through the loss of life, income,

57 and job security. Already, it is becoming apparent that those who are being affected most, in the US, are people of color. According to the Center for Disease Control website, non- whites, on average, are twice as likely to contract the virus, nearly four times as likely to be hospitalized, and African Americans are twice as likely to die (“COVIDVeiw”). One source suggests an even higher model for African Americans, as disproportionately black counties “accounted for five of ten COVID-19 diagnoses and nearly six of ten COVID-19 deaths nationally” (Millett 40). There is a clear discrepancy between how different demographics are being affected that lies along the lines of race. The reason for this is due to “underlying social, environmental, economic, and structural inequities” (Millett

43). People of color are being disproportionately affected because they are marginalized.

Due to the economic nature of this disparity, it isn’t a large leap from exposing this discrepancy to viewing how the socio-economic systems of capitalism are partly responsible for that discrepancy. Marginalized groups are being affected greater because of how capitalism exploits them. COVID-19, viewed through the lens of marginalization, lays bare many underlying inequities that are inherent to the current system. Yet, this was not the only crisis happening in the U.S.

In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, another growing crisis has been amplified. The issues of police brutality and overall systemic racism have led to a recent surge in Black Lives Matter (BLM) protests. George Floyd, a 46-year-old African

American man, was murdered on May 25th, 2020 at the hands of Minneapolis Police officers. While this was not the beginning of this crisis or the BLM protests, it did spark what appears to be the largest wave of protests ever seen in America. From a few of

58 separate polls, about 9-8.5% of all Americans attended a protest during the height of the movement in June (Hamel; “Public Opinion Data”). That is an estimate of over 25 million people. By any account that is a large and meaningful amount of the population.

A New York Times article even claims it as “the largest movement in the country’s history” comparing it to the numbers of active protestors in other major American political movements including civil rights movements (Buchanan). The scale of these protests moved beyond the U.S. as protests were seen across South America to Europe

(Taylor). This was more than another bout of protests. This escalated to the point of crisis due to the scale of people looking for reform in the wake of this event.

These protests were not ubiquitous in their push for certain policies, but many of the protests went beyond looking for individual justice and argued for serious systemic change. According to Civis Analytics, 74% of the population stated they were hearing the term “defund the police'' being spread by protestors while 48% were hearing sentiments of “abolishing the police” (“Public Opinion Data”). Here, in my hometown of Fairfield,

California, I personally witnessed multiple protests dedicated specifically toward defunding the police. While there are not many direct callings for an end to capitalism, by having such a large movement advocating for serious systemic reform, specifically concerning the oppression of a minority group, the recent crisis has had a particular impact on the current societal hegemony. In the wake of the BLM protests, questions have arisen of whether we should have a police force, a belief that seems almost fundamental to current American society. The police force present as an integral part of our current system.

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While it’s hard to say that these protests are directly aimed at capitalism, it is also hard to claim that capitalism isn’t somehow involved in this conversation. Capitalism is part of the American institution that is being challenged, even if it isn’t always being challenged directly. The point of a police force is upholding the institutions and laws of a state. Critiquing this system is critiquing the current systems upholding capitalism, as they are all involved with one another. As these events are influenced by listening to the voices and actions of marginalized people, marginalized perspectives prove to exaggerate the critique on capitalism in this issue as well. The BLM protests are in some way anti- capitalist, whether they directly state this opposition or not.

On top of all of this, climate change is the biggest and most damning crisis in showing capitalism’s faults, specifically in capitalist ideology’s incongruence with handling climate change. This is reflected in the previously examined works of Andrew

Sayer. To add to it. it is best to turn to one of the most influential writers on the rising study of ecocriticism, Dipesh Chakrabarty. He describes how in capital driven nations, like the U.S. and European nations, “Policy specialists think in terms of years, decades, at most centuries, while politicians in democracies think in terms of their electoral cycles.

Understanding what anthropogenic climate change is and how long its effects may last calls for thinking on very large and small scales at once” (Chakrabarty 3). Essentially, societies built around the current ideals of capital and democracy lack the correct perspective on time that is necessary to delineate and address the issue of climate change.

Chakrabarty also states, “These latter processes continue over scales of space and time that are much larger than those of capitalism” as he rejects the notion that capitalism

60 alone can be to blame for climate change, but that still works for this argument (15). In the zombie narrative framework, capitalism does not need to be the cause of the crisis.

Capitalist ideology is not weakened because it is solely responsible for zombie outbreaks.

It is weakened because it is incapable of dealing with them. Chakrabarty states very clearly in his paper that “the problem of anthropogenic climate change could not have been predicted from within the usual frameworks deployed to study the logics of capital”

(21). The logic of capitalism, its ideology, is proven to be incongruous with the climate change crisis. Capitalist ideology is unable to construct a proper method of action toward global warming.

Part of the issue with capitalist ideology, that Chakrabarty describes, stems from the same lack of vision outside of itself seen in Zone One and The Girl with All the Gifts.

In describing one of the main incongruences between the current systems of logic and the logic of climate change, he states:

“Their methods are such that they appear to hold or bracket climate change as a broadly known variable (converting its uncertainties into risks that have been acknowledged and evaluated) while working out options that humans can create for themselves striving together or even wrangling among themselves... It is there in a relatively predictable form to be managed by human ingenuity and political mobilization” (Chakrabarty 5).

The current system is unable to wrangle with the ideas of climate change because it tends to digest the problem into a ‘known variable.’ It cannot fathom a risk that is outside of its control and as such could be incongruous with its ideological structure. Instead, it suggests that simple ‘ingenuity and political mobilization’ can solve the problem, even when it’s out of its depth. The American Phoenix in Zone One relies on the same sort of rhetoric. Futurity is the notion that the system can overcome all obstacles, and this proves

61 to be a detriment to properly approaching a situation in which complete failure is possible. The Girl with All the Gifts envisions a system that cannot comprehend beyond its flaws. While desperately in search of a cure, the system fails to accept a new vision of the world that Melanie’s humanity proposes as a possibility. Instead, they exploit and abuse Melanie, to the point where she decides to destroy the system, sealing its fate due to its lack of empathy toward something outside itself. These narratives draw similar conclusions that Chakrabarty draws from the real-world crisis of climate change. They all show that a crisis of this magnitude reveals capitalism’s inability to deal with something beyond its own logic. Like the other crises, this vision of capitalism’s weaknesses is seen greatest through marginalized perspectives.

Undoubtedly, marginalized communities have felt the brunt of climate change, and this is tied to the current system of capital. While climate change is affecting the lives of everyone, the ones who are getting hit the hardest and the earliest are from poorer marginalized communities. Using the U.S. as an example, an article researching the various effects of climate change on African American communities, concludes their research with, “Clearly, climate change poses elevated risk to African Americans because of inherent income and social well-being gaps already evident in society. All people are exposed to weather extremes and climate impacts, but marginalized groups have greater sensitivity and less resilience” (Shepard 586). This trend of the most vulnerable being the most susceptible goes beyond the U.S. as well. The ecocriticism book, Social Dimensions of Climate Change, concludes, “The poor and otherwise marginalized members of society are disproportionately affected by all disasters… we live in a ‘politicized

62 environment’ where the cost and benefits associated with environmental change are distributed unequally among the actors” (Mearns 103). While not all the people they are focusing on are from capitalist states, these articles together show an overall trend that those who are the poorest and most exploited along economic lines are the ones feeling the worst effects of climate change. Capitalism, being the most predominant economic system, is a part of this trend. It isn’t hard to see how listening to and examining the perspectives of people from these communities can have a disproportionately large effect on people's perceptions of climate change, capital’s impact on it, and the need to seek alternatives. While this does not show a clear break from capitalist realism, it does show a rising opportunity for people to challenge capitalist realism. Alternatives become more possible as current systems fail. In all these crises together, even through a voice that was instrumental to capitalist realism, capitalist realism is weakening.

To examine these issues in comparison to capitalist realism, it is useful to look at the perspective of Slavoj Zizek. This is by no means to claim that Slavoj Zizek has the best or clearest perspective when it comes to these issues. Especially when attempting to understand the Black Lives Matter movement and its relation to revolt and systemic political issues, it is much better to look at the perspectives of activists and scholars within the African American community rather than a white male Marxist scholar from

Slovenia. However, since Mark Fisher died in 2017 and much of his theories were heavily reliant on Slavoj Zizek’s writings, Zizek acts as the closest surrogate to see how someone like Mark Fisher might have viewed recent events in relation to circumventing capitalism. Therefore, take the perspectives of Slavoj Zizek not as the definitively correct

63 interpretation of these issues, but as a reflection of how people ascribing to capitalist realism might have their reasonings tested by recent events.

Slavoj Zizek claims that in the wake of the recent BLM protests, climate change, and COVID-19 a serious systemic and ideological shift has been occurring. Zizek, in an interview conducted by Infobae, Zizek defines capitalism as the following, “Capitalism is not just economy. Capitalism is a way of life.” He defines capitalism in the same hegemonic sense as Fisher marks it. Thus, it holds the same difficulties of imagining past that system as Fisher claims, even as Zizek doesn’t directly reference capitalist realism.

What he does state is that in the wake of the crises “It's clear that even if the situation gets a little bit better, we will not be able to return to the old normality” (Infobae). Regarding the escalating crises, he states, “I think now our reality itself confronts us with what are, in some sense, philosophical problems. ‘What is the meaning of our life’. ‘How should we reorganize our life’” (“Slavoj Zizek”). Zizek sees in the wake of these crises people are searching for completely new systems of reasoning. The old systems will not last as they once were. He sees the possibility of an ideological change away from the given hegemonic thinking while also expressing the necessity for it. While Zizek’s philosophies helped build Fisher’s claims of how impenetrable capitalism realism is, he sees the possibility of an alternative emerging at this very moment.

With the Black Lives Matters protests in mind, Zizek sees this shift in America as even more acute. In the wake of the protests in the U.S and with the current populist movement fighting against it, Zizek states, “In the United States, what I’m afraid of is that there will be, seriously, a kind of a half civil war” (Infobae). While he is not seeing

64 this outcome as a positive change, he recognizes the poignancy of what may happen in the wake of the Black Lives Matter protests. He goes on to claim that with all this happening “the, so-called, ‘American way of life’ will not survive” (Infobae). In a separate interview, earlier in the same month, Zizek talks about the protests in the wake of the other crises and views this possible break as catastrophic. He states, “What worries me is this: each of these conflicts taken by itself can be managed. I worry about the combination (Samo Burja). He views a potency to the breaking of the normalized capitalist hegemony escalating because of the BLM protests.

With marginalization coming into the conversation alongside the pandemic and climate change, the possibility of a break with the current system has escalated to Zizek.

Zizek is by no means endorsing a violent action. Yet his fear of violent outcomes suggests that actions against current political systems have been considerably escalated by considering marginalized perspectives in his eyes. For Zizek, the search for an alternative perspective in America is reaching such a point of potency that civil war may strike. The perspectives and actions of marginalized people in times of crisis are truly making working toward an alternative system possible. The alternative being reached from these issues could very well be just another form of capitalism. There is no real way of telling where the emergent perspectives may lead to the event of a revolt. But the fact that these crises are forcing scholars like Zizek to see the opportunity for alternative shows a very stark critique of the solidity of capitalist realism. If even Zizek, who claims we live a society unable to take action over pure criticism, views recent events as potential emergent alternatives then capitalist realism lies on weaker foundation than the

65 idea originally claims. The processes of this current critique toward capitalism very directly reflect the focused contemporary zombie narratives.

This overall sentiment of how minority perspectives help critique capitalist realism in times of crises directly reflects what is happening in contemporary zombie narratives. From the evidence happening from real crises, the current frame of capitalism is ill-equipped in dealing with the current crises at hand, and those who are affected the most are marginalized people. This reflects an incongruence between capitalism and these crises, especially when viewed through the frame of marginalization. Contemporary zombie narratives are already steeped in the context of marginalization and crises. With zombies being an innate reflection of those being exploited by a crisis, the genre is ripe for reflecting these issues very directly. This is seen in both texts.

In The Girl with All the Gifts, the capitalist system is only barely able to keep up the facade that it can handle its crisis, and the marginalized protagonist provides the best perspective to realist this incongruence. The oppression coming from the state is more visible than ever as marginalized children are imprisoned and systemically murdered in the name of a cure. Melanie, being one of these marginalized children, can critique the system more readily because the oppression is directed toward her. Also, as she is associated with the zombie’s outside of the system, she is better able to view how the system’s advancement works against her own group. In the end, this makes a viable alternative to her current system not only visualized but realized.

In Zone One the system’s facade of control is beginning to break down, especially when viewed by Mark Spitz. Its notions of futurism are failing in the wake of a crisis it

66 can’t handle. Mark Spitz can visualize the system’s inability to maintain from this disaster because as a marginalized person he is seeing the least benefit from its re- emergence. He too, in the time of crises, realizes the incongruence the state has to handling the crisis. Despite that an alternative is failed to be realized in time, an alternative is still possible and advocated for. All of this comes to the same conclusion.

The likelihood of people working toward a true vision past capitalism increases as a system is strained by crises especially as it is viewed from the perspectives of the most exploited demographics. What does this show about what contemporary zombie narratives can potentially say?

While it is hard to argue that these zombie narratives escape capitalist realism or are inherently responsible for actions against capitalist realism, it can be claimed they are reflections of real events happening in the contemporary world and participate in a culture that holds the opportunity to circumvent capitalist realism. Even in the eyes of

Slavoj Zizek, there is a potential ideological shift happening to open toward alternatives.

None of this is absolute evidence that capitalist realism is an idea that will fundamentally fail in our lifetime. The possibility for alternatives is very reliant on a still uncertain future. The visions and reflections shown in zombie narratives are equally uncertain. Yet, the possibility of alternatives happening seems more possible now, in the wake of all the events, than they ever were previously. While no break from capitalist ideology is for sure, what contemporary zombie narratives reveal is what can happen when it is tested to its limits. What we can read from contemporary zombie narratives is that a collapse in capitalist realism becomes paramount as crises escalate. To Mark Fisher’s opening claim,

67 it may still be easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism, currently.

However, zombie narratives' relationship with capitalist realism and reflection of real- world events begs an essential question. Does imagining the end of the world help us begin to imagine the end of capitalism?

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Conclusion

Contemporary zombie narratives are testing the limits of capitalist realism and are a reflection of how those limits are being tested today. The Girl with All the Gifts is a story of a girl who breaks from her system. Seeing no benefit coming her way in a time of crisis, she works to make an alternative system a reality. Zone One is a story of a man who also begins to see the possibilities behind his system, even as he fails to truly work toward changing the system before the final collapse of humanity. Both of these zombie narratives are tales about looking past the capitalist system during crises and the marginalized framework to do it in. While these two texts alone cannot be held as a full representative of all contemporary zombie narratives, they do provide the great context of the potential these narratives hold. The history of marginalization and exploitation that is at the root of this genre when brought to the contemporary front of current crises makes contemporary zombie narratives well suited for combating capitalist realism.

Contemporary zombie narratives hit a particular space in reflecting current society’s relation with capitalism, crises, and marginalization. From its origins in slave narratives to George Romero’s consumerist zombies, the zombie has always been a figure critical of capitalistic forces and always a figure tied to marginalization. From the beginning, it was a medium that was critical of the forces of capitalism that constructed something so egregious as slavery. Concerning our contemporary crises filled world, zombie literature, which is inherently crisis-driven, has become even more pertinent. In the article on zombie theory, Jeffrey Cohen argues, “Environmental justice is a mode of analysis that urges close attention to the populations paying the highest price for the

69 comfortable modes of living enjoyed by elites… The undead as another category of

“unthought” share much with such victims, most of whom suffer in their bodies for ecological devastation” (Cohen 386). Today’s zombies share a very special reflection of today’s environmental crises. They are an exposure of capitalism’s incongruity with a crisis by focusing on perspectives of the most marginalized. Because of the nature of the zombie as an exploited class who is taking the brunt of an ecological disaster, contemporary zombie narratives lie in a special position. From this lens, Cohen claims that zombie literature is in a particular spot where “environmental justice may flourish”

(386). Contemporary zombie literature holds a spot in which the issues of today’s crises can be examined, critiqued, and acted upon. This goes beyond just environmental crises as well. All systemic issues around race that lead to crises, like the BLM protests or

COVID-19, also fall under Cohen’s logic. The BLM protests too are a reaction to people paying attention to the populations who are the most exploited, both in ecological terms and otherwise. COVID-19 exposes the underlying vulnerability capitalism has wrought to the marginalized. Cohen even states, “racism is as environmental as it is social,” tying together the proponents of crisis and marginalization (386). It is no coincidence that contemporary zombie narratives reflect all these crises, particularly coming from the frame of reference of capitalism. Zombie narratives are at their essence about showing those marginalized by capitalism during times of crisis. As it reflects real happenings so closely, it can be stated that the lessons taken from the texts are capable of being translated into real-world action.

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Contemporary zombie literature is in direct conversation with capitalist realism.

Capitalist realism claims the near impossibility of current societies’ inability to imagine past capitalism. Other theorists such as Richard Dienst and Michael Clune show that the most intense representations of capitalism’s flaws can combat the forces of capitalist realism. Contemporary zombie literature, reflecting a marginalized perspective on the crisis, provides a context in which capitalism is at its most strained. As a direct result, individuals with that perspective are at the closest point to envisioning alternatives to capitalism than anyone is. We see this in both of the focus texts.

In The Girl with All the Gifts, Melanie is a character representing a marginalized perspective on a system in crisis. She is abused and nearly killed in the name of perpetuating a state that promises nothing but more exploitation and death to people like her. She uses this experience to make a crucial decision about her system, and she decides to fundamentally destroy it to make a system that benefits her. While it is entirely possible that this next system is capitalist as well, the novel exposes a unique possibility to combat capitalist realism. When viewed at its most strained from the most marginalized perspective, capitalist realism is weakened. Alternatives become more possible to the ones that see the least benefit from the system, and in this text, are the only ones able to reach an alternative. The context of the capitalist system dealing with a crisis it cannot handle not only puts it in a position for its faults to be exposed but also puts it in a position where it is easier to tear down and replace it. While the film does not depict an undeniably clear-cut end of capitalist realism, it is a narrative that uniquely shows the possibility of an alternative to capitalism emerging from crises.

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In Zone One, Mark Spitz is as well a character representing a marginalized perspective on a system of crises, yet his world ultimately fails. He is a character marked by his race and who views the capitalist system as fundamentally flawed, providing no benefit to people in his position. He also views the flaws in its ideology of futurity, as he recognizes that the system's end might be inevitable. Although, instead of using this perspective and forming a movement toward an alternative, Mark Spitz only suppresses action against the system for the comforts that it provides. As a result, the system completely crashes, realizing its faults too late to save humanity. This text is fundamentally dealing with the same issue The Girl with All the Gifts is. It too is exposing how the faults in the system beg for the realization of an alternative to that system. It also expresses how fundamentally difficult that is in a way that is more honest than the hopeful portrayal in The Girl with All the Gifts. Changing the system still isn’t impossible in this text. While Mark Spitz fails, the text suggests that the right language to circumvent the system is worth pursuing. As such, by learning from the crises happening in the world, and by taking heed from the perspectives of the marginalized, one can work toward finding the correct language to circumvent capitalist realism before apocalypse strikes. What both of these texts expose is a critical flaw in capitalist realism.

Fisher’s capitalist realism relies on the belief that people are unwilling to seek change. For Mark Fisher, capitalist realism spurns from a culture of cynicism, of a people who are critical of the system but unwilling to believe in that system’s ability to change.

He opens by relating this idea to the film The Children of Men, to which he states, “the

‘weak messianic’ hope that there must be something new on the way lapses into the

72 morose conviction that nothing new can ever happen” (Fisher 3). The notion of capitalist realism is reliant on the idea that people want change but are convinced of that change’s impossibility. This reflects how Mark Spitz feels about his world. He is critical of the

American Phoenix but lacks the belief to envision past it. In a time of crises from the perspective of the most marginalized, this doesn’t have to be the case for Mark Spitz and isn’t the case in The Girl with All the Gifts. What Mark Fisher fails to consider is, ‘what if a new system isn’t only wanted but seen as an absolute imperative?’ What if capitalism proves to provide no hope, no help, and no future? From that perspective, capitalist realism is fundamentally weak. From that perspective, changing the system becomes a necessity.

While Mark Fisher addresses this issue in his book, he greatly underestimates the impact of crises. He states, “environmental catastrophe features in the late-capitalist culture only as a kind of simulacra, its real implications for capitalism too traumatic to be assimilated” (18). Fisher is aware that the current crises happening environmentally are fundamentally at odds with the capitalist system. He dismisses this critique with discussions on how capitalism hides behind arguments that the natural environment is beyond government control then hides behind a centerless bureaucracy (Fisher 18-20).

However, what he doesn’t factor in is the perspective of the people who have the clearest lens on how the capitalist system is incompatible with their livelihood during crises. He fails to realize how influential the critique can be when a large group of people’s lives depend on change. Fisher somewhat addresses this at the end of his book, where he states, “From a situation in which nothing can happen, suddenly anything is possible

73 again” (81). Still, he fails to realize how this breaks down his overall notion of capitalist realism. Capitalist realism needs to be all-engrossing, presenting itself as the only viable system, but when viewed from a marginalized perspective that is a harder ideology to follow. When capitalism offers a demographic nothing but trauma and exploitation in times of crisis, what is left but a search for alternatives? Does capitalist realism only affect a portion of the population? If so, that disrupts the hegemonic notion that capitalism defines our ‘real.’ The main counterargument of this is that no largescale action against capitalism has yet to take place. Interpassivity, thus, remains true of all texts showing the power of marginalized perspectives. They are proven incapable of reaching past capitalist realism because capitalism has yet to be imagined past. This proposes more problems in the logic of capitalist realism, especially in the vain of interpassivity.

While interpassivity is a very interesting idea, in practice it is extremely difficult to prove. Interpassivity is an idea that does appear to hold some resonance. It does appear that on some level even texts and narratives that are extremely critical of capitalism, including these texts, do not have an impact on the world outside of the narrative.

Viewing this as a strict rule proposes more issues than it solves. It is extremely hard to draw a straight line from any narrative to a political event that it directly inspired. That is not to say that these narratives don’t have an impact, but that their impact isn’t visible. In this sense, interpassivity relies on a notion of immediate impact. If a text does not inspire change directly, then it isn’t truly inspiring visions past the system. However, what if instead art and media were viewed as participating in an overall slow shift in culture?

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What if views are being shifted not by individual texts, but by the overall volume of texts leaning in a certain direction? Many texts today that are considered interpassive objects are only viewed as such in the current moment. What if they are leaning the overall culture to a stronger vision past capitalism? If that is the case, then interpassivity can only be proven in retrospect. It can only be true if no action ever takes place because once it does all texts that were considered interpassive can be viewed as participating in a long cultural shift.

This perspective is backed up by an interesting critique of interpassivity by

Robrecht Vanderbeeken. His idea borrows from the concept of hyperreality, the condition in which reality becomes “a real without origin” (Baudrillard 166). This is where the notions of what is considered ‘real’ break down as we examine the differences between one projected reality to another. Vanderbeeken argues that all media creates this sort of hyperreality, in which we are lost in-between the depiction of reality from the media and the reality of our physical world. He claims this causes the audience to be lost in-between a mixture of both realities, trying to make sense of one over the other. In this mode, the audience wants to, “correct reality inspired by the fiction of the screen and hence to create a reality that is more familiar, more ‘real’ than real, in the sense that it looks more like the reality we know from the screen” (Vanderbeeken 253). In the end, the fictional space wins out. The audience is driven to make the real world more like the fictional.

Vanderbeeken views this from a negative perspective, talking about how this leads to futures of augmented and mediated realities in which the real becomes even further

75 indistinguishable. It becomes a jumbled mess of reality where action is harder to take effect as the ‘real’ is obfuscated.

While this critique is entirely valid, it reveals a major flaw in interpassivity. How can one claim interpassivity to be true if there are works of media which do inspire people to make that media into a reality? Vanderbeeken claims that people want to turn the ‘real’ into what they see in the media. What if a large part of that media is capitalist critical? The focus should be shifted from a refusal that media interjects in our reality to examining what sort of media is interjecting our reality. If the majoring depiction in media were critical of capitalism and showed the need for alternatives, the culture would work to reflect that media reality, thereby surpassing interpassivity. Molding our society from the underlying lessons taken from contemporary zombie narratives could theoretically drive action against capitalist ideology. This opens the possibility of alternatives taking place and for capitalist realism to fall apart.

Contemporary zombie narratives do not present a clear cut from capitalist realism, but they do discuss an opportunity to circumvent it and reflect an era of crises in which that opportunity can present itself. While they are far from the only genre which is critical of capitalism, they represent a perspective in which capitalist realism is at its breaking point. Capitalist realism is a notion that shouldn’t be understated, however. There are some real notions that capitalism does a very good job of presenting itself as the only viable option. The stories themselves reflect this difficulty. Neither character from either narrative effortlessly breaks the conditioning they were born into. The struggle takes effort, but the context of crisis makes it clearer. When you are looking from the

76 perspective of a person whose benefit from the system is becoming near non-existent, the impossible can become insuppressible. That is what contemporary zombie narratives present, a perspective in which capitalism no longer makes any sense. As it is a genre questioning what is fundamentally possible as a human and what is fundamentally human, it can envision impossible alternatives. What these recent narratives represent is that current crises might be reaching this impossible, beyond humanity perspective where opportunity arises. What I hope is that this essay opens even more possibilities into analyzing contemporary zombie narratives in this light. As I am writing, intrinsically, from my own white male perspective, there is without a doubt more to this argument that

I am not considering and is worth examining. Still, even I can see that there is much in zombie literature which is more insightful and radical that it is typically given credit for.

In the words of African American poet, musician, and author, Gil Scott-Heron, “the revolution will not be televised.” Real alternatives are not just presented to the public upfront. They must be sought for, fought for. That does not mean that some television, some film, some text, cannot lead to something revolutionary. Looking into zombie narratives, being more critical toward what they say about the most vulnerable, can lead society in a direction that is more open to ideologies thought beyond humanity, zombie ideologies. The revolution may not be televised, but it just may be zombified.

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