Avishai Halev

12/1/14
Humanity, or the Lack Thereof
We are not Robots, nor Should we Be
Albert Einstein, that German master of the variables that are space and time, that
scientific genius of unconscionable bounds, was terrified of the art he would help create.
In 1946, years before mankind would reach the moon, decades before it would be
anathema to leave the house without a smartphone, he would declare that it has become
appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.
It is a theme that would be put into novel form by George Orwell just two years
later, and reiterated once again as a short story by Don DeLillo just a year before Orwells
1984 was to take place. But if Winston Smiths 1984 world could be imagined as one
colored in gray by hate, the unnamed narrators in Human Moments in World War III is
one of pervasive black, coated in apathy. The use of paradox and various forms of
repetition serve to emphasize this theme of humanity or more accurately, the lack of it
through their accentuation of the so called human moments that dot the story.
The title Human Moments in World War III is itself a paradox, foreshadowing the
theme of the piece especially given the setting of impersonality that is to follow. In this
day and age, nuclear weapons are considered too dangerous to use; they are just as much
of a threat through retaliation to the people who initiate their use as to those who are
struck first. They are the ultimate crime against humanity, killing people not just instantly
but over the course of decades and generations. In Human Moments, however, nuclear
weapons have been banned; given that the piece was written during the height of the cold

war, the logical conclusion is a thawing of relations and a sigh of relief. Paradox emerges
in the actual outcome, however, as the banning of nuclear weapons has made the world
safe for war. Unfortunately, this ban only shifts the worlds most inhumane acts from the
overt to the subtle: while the ideal result of such a ban is a worldwide peace, in reality all
it does it create a war in near-perpetuity; the narrator notes that this World War III is
dragging into its third week, creating the perception that World War III is not one big
war but rather an endless series of smaller ones. The idea that a world war can be
dragging in just its third week is itself a paradox, as no one can feasibly expect a war of
such magnitude to be over so quickly. Unless, of course, it is a war of no meaning, a war
that exists for the sole reason of existing because people have always enjoyed and
nourished themselves on war, as a heightening, a periodic intensity. This is paradoxical
as well; people do not enjoy war unless there is truly nothing else to enjoy, when
humanity is so nonexistent that a pervasive hate leads to a relishing of the ultimate acts of
inhumanity.
The dystopian humanity is also apparent through the omniscient benevolent
dictator for life that is Central Command. The narrator has heard in the voice of Central
Command that they are not telling us things they feel we shouldnt know, in our special
situation, our exposed and sensitive position. This concept of an exposed and sensitive
position is quite laughable; the narrator and his companion, Vollmer, are on a ship deep
in space that has no contact with anyone except Central Command itself. As a result,
Central Commands decision in this case can clearly be seen as a way to turn the narrator
and Vollmer into robotic versions of what were previously known as humans; there is no
other reason than the dehumanization of their minions. Paradox also exists in the lingo of

Central Command, as a sort of doublespeak: the word specialist, in the standard usage of
Colorado Command, refers here to someone who does not specialize. Rather, the word
specialist refers to someone who is supposedly special, who occupies a unique place in
the worlds reckoning or so Central Command wants that specialist to believe. In
reality, they are nothing more than a cog in a machine, a faceless member in this general
loss of humanity.
The use of repetition in Human Moments is reminiscent of that of horror
literature, and a horror story it could definitely be characterized, for the dystopian, cold
world in DeLillos story is terrible indeed. As in all dystopian literature, there is a
pervasive sense of trying too hard; Vollmer, for one, has degrees in science and
technology. He was a scholarship winner, an honors student, a research assistant. He ran
science projects, read technical papers in the deep pitched earnest voice that rolls off the
roof of his mouth, a long list of accomplishments that matter not at all in the tiny bubble
of space that they occupy. The anaphora here creates a sense of forced meaning, as if by
accomplishing as many things as possible he can fill the void left by the lack of humanity
in his life. Epiphora is also employed to emphasize the lack of humanity; here the
repetition of doomed shows how the narrator feels, well, doomed:
One day you feel it, the next day you are suddenly puny and doomed. A single
little thing goes wrong, you feel doomed, you feel utterly weak and defeated and
unable to act powerfully or even sensibly. Everyone else is lucky, you are
unlucky, hapless, sad, ineffectual and doomed.
A sense of doom follows a life without hope, a life without color a life without human
moments to give it meaning.

The term human moments itself is actually used epiphorically: the earplugs are
human moments. The apple cider and the broccoli are human moments. Vollmer himself
is a human moment, never more so than when he forgets there is a war. These are not
human moments as one would consider them in the current worldview; these are objects
humans use. They do not represent humanity but rather the existence of humans; in the
absence of the former, the latter must fill its place, but it is an utterly insufficient
substitute. Yet perhaps the most damning piece of evidence for this theme is another use
of anaphora:
I want to say, 'Forget the measure of our vision, the sweep of things, the
war itself, the terrible death. Forget the overarching night, the stars as static
points, as mathematical fields. Forget the cosmic solitude, the welling awe and
dread.'
I want to say, 'Happiness is not a fact of this experience, at least not to the
extent that one is bold enough to speak of it.'
Here the darkness in their lives is clear: the black permeates all, especially as a true
absence of color. This is not the last line in Human Moments, but it could well be; this
raw truth that the narrator declares is the great revealing of the novels theme. The
repetition of forget here is important only through forgetting can the narrator deny the
pointlessness of the life he heads; only through forgetting can he continue to insist upon
the existence of human moments that he knows are not there.
Written during the Cold War, Human Moments in World War III is chilling indeed.
The use of literary devices by Don DeLillo specifically paradox and repetition
emphasize the absence of humanity in war, even in a war where death is as far away as
can be. That distance does not help the characters live life fully but rather the opposite
in the absence of pain, good emotions fade as well until there is no happiness but rather a

dull monotony and a hopeless depression. DeLillos Human Moments does not decry war,
necessarily; instead, it warns of a future where technology overwhelms humanity. Given
the pace at which technology advances, that day is coming. It is up to all of humanity to
protect that which makes them so.