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Broox Anderson

Professor Buhler

HUM 3070

3 April 2016

Logos and Pathos in Yevgeny Zamyatin’s ​We

What is logic and emotion?—are they different things, really? Using the Freudian

model of thought, we can separate these polarizing aspects of humanity into singular,

stable entities. As we know, Freud’s theory divides the human psyche into three layers:

the id, ego, and superego (unconscious, subconscious, and conscious). It’s helpful to

envision it as such. Emotion, with respect to Freud, is an upward movement—an echo,

if you will—stemming from basal instinct in the id and carried through the ego to

resonate in the conscious mind. In this way, emotion is powerful. It is a product of

two-thirds of our cerebral strata, but essentially irrepressible by our superego. In near

natural opposition, logic, then, is espoused to the conscious mind and resides within its

bounds. These forces, one primeval and another steeped in cultural evolution, serve to

help us live, but are implemented rather clumsily. Much like fitting a square peg in a

round hole, it leaves gaps, synapses; and, in these inevitable chasms rises poetic

angst, over-thought, and fissured thoughts. This warring conflict between logic and

emotion is a recurring event in D-503’s life, and an inherent theme in Zamyatin’s novel,

We.

Humor me for a moment while I hone this broad idea of logic and emotion to fit

Aristotle’s observation of “logos” and “pathos.” These two concepts form a tandem,
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along with “ethos,” to explain the major forms of rhetoric or persuasion: logos being an

appeal to reason and pathos being an appeal to empathy (notice the Greek root). While

Aristotle described these innately human traits through the “rhetor’s”​ ​perspective, we

must think about them in terms of the audience. By this, we can understand the

workings of our own self-persuasion, our internal rhetoric.

“‘He harnessed fire in the machine, in steel, / And bound chaos in the chains of

Law’” (47). D-503 singles out this stanza in a sea of inspiring iambic verse offered at a

liturgy of the One State by a State Poet. It is not mere coincidence that Zamyatin

penned such a symbolic line. Fire is often equated to emotion, and steel to logic

(“kindling your inner fire,” or being “machine-like”). Thus, the One State, conflictingly

referred to as Prometheus, has purportedly tamed emotion with great, machine-like

logic. It is interesting also, the word choice of ​chaos ​and ​Law. R

​ emembering Freudian

theory, this can be read almost analogously as, “He bound the id in the chains of the

superego.”

These iambic lines poetically define the status of existing in the One State, but

also serve to foreshadow an integral component of the book: the Operation, which can

be seen as the ultimate triumph of logos over pathos. However, there is a hint at an

even more overt theme in the immediately following lines: “And everything was new,

everything was steel—a steel sun, steel trees, steel men. ​But suddenly, a madman

‘unchained the fire’ and everything would perish again...”​ (47). It is fitting that D-503

chose to reflect on these lines, because he seems to embody the sentiments of the

poem after becoming involved with the proverbial “madman,” I-330.

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As we know, she, I-330, is the window through which D-503 experiences

heightened feeling, emotion. Remember, D-503 is the Builder of the ​Integral,​ an

engineer whose livelihood and mind is based in mathematics, in total logic: “I was the

boy who had once wept on [the Day of Unanimity] over a tiny spot on his unif, visible to

no one but himself” (140). To him, we can ascertain that if she is as Prometheus, he is a

lightless mortal; and, from above the gods of Olympus, of the One State, she descends,

a Titan, and shows him fire, pathos.

This newly-kindled flame leads to discovery of the Mephi, conception of a child,

and understanding of self, but also to war, conflict, and death, like that of R-13; and, just

as Prometheus is punished, I-330 is brought to suffer for her complicity by torture and

resuscitation in the Gas Bell.

On page 185, in reference to the Operation and inherent risk in hijacking the

Integral,​ I-330 states, “Well, you are sick, you have committed crimes because of

me—has it not been a torment to you? And now, the Operation—​and you​ ​will cure

yourself of me.​ And that means—farewell.” It was easy to pass over this without seeing

the symbolism the first time. However, we can infer from these lines that I-330

represents, among other things, emotion and imagination. Undergoing the Operation

would “cure” him of her, because we know the Operation is a procedure to remove

imagination or emotion.

Having known I-330 for a time, D-503 recounts: “The spears of her eyelashes

spread open, they let me in—and… How describe what it does to me—this ancient,

absurd, miraculous ritual, when her lips touch mine? What formula can express the
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storm that sweeps everything out of my soul but her? Yes, yes, my soul—laugh if you

will” (154). This statement is a culmination of two of Zamyatin’s recurring themes: the

“soul” and irrationality.

D-503’s development of a soul is described as “tormenting,” and he is diagnosed

with this “incurable soul” in Chapter Sixteen. Zamyatin provides this imagery of the

human soul:

Well, then, take a plane, a surface—this mirror, say. And on this surface are you

and I, you see? We squint against the sun. And here, the blue electric spark

inside that tube, and there—the passing shadow of an aero. All of it only on the

surface, only momentary. But imagine this impermeable substance softened by

some ​fire;​ and nothing slides across it any more, everything enters into it, into

this mirror world that we examined with such curiosity when we were children.

Children are not so foolish, I assure you. The plane has acquired volume, it has

become a body, a world, and everything is now inside the mirror—inside you: the

sun, the blast of the whirling propeller, your trembling lips, and someone else’s.

Do you understand? The cold mirror reflects, throws back, but this one absorbs,

and everything leaves its trace—forever. A moment, a faint line on someone’s

face—and it remains in you forever. Once you heard a drop fall in the silence,

and you hear it now…. (89)

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That one small word, ​fire,​ is taken, again, to mean emotion. Thus, Zamyatin holds, in

order to melt the reflective, two-dimensional surface of the mirror—of logic—and

deepen the soul, we must yield some “fire,” some emotion.

Further, in the pages following D-503’s diagnosis, he embellishes, “My

mathematics—until now the only firm and immutable island in my entire dislocated

world—has also broken off its moorings, is also floating whirling. Does it mean, then,

that this preposterous “soul” is as my unif, as my boots, although I do not see them at

the moment? (They are behind the mirrored closet door.) And if the boots are not a

disease, why is the “soul” a disease?” (102). An interesting association here, as he

equates the soul to his boots which are ​behind the mirror,​ another reference to the

metaphor of the soul. Yet, again, D-503 is conflicted by the idea of the soul and its

incalculability. Even mathematics, his forte, has become ungrounded to him. This is a

comment on D-503’s struggle to define and accept irrationality.

Zamyatin seems to link the idea of the soul and irrationality throughout the book.

These are both manifestations of logos and pathos, as each are founded in logic and

emotion. He explains on the previous page:

“[A]n extremely odd chain of logic unwound itself in my mind. Every equation,

every formula in the surface world has its corresponding curve or body. But for

irrational formulas, for my √− 1 , we know of no corresponding bodies, we have

never seen them…. But the horror of it is that these invisible bodies exist, they

must, they inevitably must exist: in mathematics, their fantastic, prickly

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shadows—irrational formulas—pass before us as on a screen. And neither

mathematics nor death ever makes a mistake. So that, if we do not see these

bodies in our world, there must be, there inevitably must be, a whole vast world

for them—there, beyond the surface….” (101)

Again, I associate “beyond the surface” with the mirror metaphor. D-503 has logically

concluded that irrationality lies within the Z-axis of the mirror, within the soul. This can

be considered less abstractly, though, and again with our Freudian concepts.

Disregarding the mirror metaphor, if the ​superego​ is the surface, then Zamyatin is

referring to the ​id​. In this context, D-503 philosophizes that √− 1 , or irrationality, is a

window into the realm of emotion—the subconscious, the id.

In reference to his desire for I-330, D-503 laments, “But why does this ‘I don’t

want’ exist within me together with this ‘I want’?” (135), and thus we see that he is torn

between his unreasonable attraction to her and his devotion to the One State. This

seemingly paltry moment of self-reflection is one of the more obvious evidences of

logos and pathos, but there are many other moments of symbolism and subtle

metaphors in the book.

After walking along the Green Wall to fulfill a doctor’s prescription to alleviate his

“soul,” D-503 writes, “But fortunately between me and the wild green ocean was the

glass of the Wall. Oh, great, divinely bounding wisdom of walls and barriers! They are,

perhaps, the greatest of man’s inventions. Man ceased to be a wild animal only when

he built the first wall. Man ceased to be a savage only when we had built the Green
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Wall, when we had isolated our perfect mechanical world from the irrational, hideous

world of trees, birds, animals…” (93). Does the wall represent the synapse, the gap

between reason and visceral desire? I believe so. It is a fitting assumption to think of the

wall as a symbol for logos. Moreover, the next paragraph in the description states:

Through the glass the blunt snout of some best stared dully, mistily at me; yellow

eyes, persistently repeating a single, incomprehensible thought. For a long time

we stared into each other’s eyes—those mine-wells from the surface world into

another, subterranean one. And a question stirred within me: What if he, this

yellow-eyed creature, in his disorderly, filthy mound of leaves, in his uncomputed

life, is happier than we are?” (93)

Here, D-503 staring at a beast through the Green Wall is analogous to perceiving his

primeval emotions through the lens of logic. He ponders whether the beast, an entirely

instinctual creature, is happier than the constituents of the One State who strive for logic

and predictability, and thus wonders if he would be happier if he gave-in to the

awareness of his emotions.

One of my favorite passages when thinking of logos and pathos is in Chapter 24,

when D-503 states, “I am like a machine set at excessive speed: the bearings are

overheated; another minute, and molten metal will begin to drip, and everything will turn

to naught. Quick—cold water, logic. I pour it by the pailful, but logic hisses on the

red-hot bearings and dissipates into the air in whiffs of white, elusive steam” (135). This
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imagery is an absolute parallel to our focus, as Zamyatin all but enunciates this human

phenomenon of logos and pathos. D-503 is portrayed as a machine, a logical being who

is heated by fiery emotion and is set to rupture. He craves “cold water, logic,” as though

it is the antithesis of heat and emotion, but, when in contact with emotion, the cold logic

dissipates like steam. We can apply this imagery throughout the book, especially with

respect to I-330. He describes her as an X, an unknown, an enigma, and forever when

he tries to apply logic to her, or his feelings for her, his attempts are frustrated. The

same can be said for broader themes like freedom, nature, primitivism, and happiness.

Ultimately, though, as D-503 undergoes the Great Operation and loses his

imagination, it seems as though logic prevails. From the last chapter, we read: “... in the

western parts of the city there is still chaos, roaring, corpses, beasts,

and—unfortunately—a considerable group of numbers who have betrayed Reason. … I

hope that we shall conquer. More than that—I am certain we shall conquer. Because

Reason must prevail” (232). While this is a solemn resolution to an admirable war

betwixt logos and pathos, I believe this ending truly forces the reader to comprehend

the gravity of the themes presented in Zamyatin’s novel. Tracing our theme, it can be

understood that emotion—pathos—is so influential, so powerful, that it must be stripped

from the cerebrum in order for pure logic and reason to overcome it; this is a powerful

sentiment unto itself and a satisfying conclusion.

In nonfictional humanity, I’m reminded of the philosophical schools of Hedonism,

Epicureanism, and Stoicism. I closely associate logic, and Zamyatin’s One State with

Stoicism. The Google dictionary describes Stoicism: “... ​The school taught that virtue,
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the highest good, is based on knowledge, and that the wise live in harmony with the

divine Reason ... that governs nature, and are indifferent to the vicissitudes of fortune

and to pleasure and pain.” We can derive from this definition a tendency of Stoics to

favor logos over pathos. Conversely, Hedonism is “the ethical theory that pleasure (in

the sense of the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human

life” (Google). In opposition to Stoicism, it appears Hedonists are concerned with

emotion and pleasure. However, between these radical schools lies the philosophy of

Epicurus—Epicureanism— which is, essentially, the integration of Hedonist and Stoic

ideals: pleasure in moderation and value in intellectual stimulation (Cook). Modernly, it

seems society tends toward Hedonism, and with the advent of social technology this is

readily apparent. For those not concerned with chasing highs, though, this can be

conflicting—much like D-503’s struggle to comprehend his emotions.

In the book, D-503 so eloquently expressed, “My head was splitting; two logical

trains collided, climbing upon each other, crashing, splintering...” (185); and, as human

beings, we can empathize with this phenomenon of existential duality—logic and

emotion, logos and pathos. Together, these concrete and fictional examples are

evidence that logos and pathos are tangible facets of the human experience as

explored by Zamyatin’s dystopian work, ​We.

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Works Cited

Cook, Vincent. "Epicurus & Epicurean Philosophy." ​Epicurus and Epicurean Philosophy.​

N.p., n.d. Web. 03 Apr. 2016. <http://www.epicurus.net/>.

Google Search. Google. 3 April 2016. Web. 3 April 2016.

Zamyatin, Yevgeny. ​We.​ Trans. Mirra Ginsburg. New York: Harper Voyager, 2012.

Print.