bureaucracy

The Organization of Hell (April 2010)

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Editor’s Note: This essay was written earlier in my academic life and is presented here without substantive revision.

Dante Alighieri’s Inferno is a work which says a lot about its author and the moral attitudes of the society in which he lived. Dante’s structuring and organization of hell is deliberate and purposeful, and is intended to reflect the severity of the various sins according to Catholic dogma. Of course, Dante’s personal beliefs are also reflected throughout the work; for instance, he places many of his political enemies throughout hell. Dante’s careful organization of hell presents God not as a source for good in the universe, but, rather, as an arbiter and upholder of divine law. Inferno does not present God as identical with the moral universe itself, but as a sovereign will administering that universe through law.

Dante divides hell into three major sections which are foreshadowed in the beginning of Inferno by the she-wolf, the lion, and the leopard. These three beasts are symbols of the major divisions of hell–the wolf represents the first division, which consists of the sins of self-indulgence. The lion represents the sins of violence, and the leopard those of fraud. As Dante travels through hell he shows the reader which sins are encompassed by each of these three categories, though he makes no attempt to explain the reasoning of this organization. Dante deliberately makes no attempt to explain the organization because hell was arranged by the will of God. Dante’s lack of explanation for hell shows that he lived in a time when the word of God was regarded as law, and was not to be questioned.

The first major section of hell encompasses circles one through five and consists of those who are guilty of the various sins of self-indulgence, or incontinence. The severity of sinfulness advances from the first circle, which consists of virtuous pagans and unbaptized children, to the lustful in circle two, the gluttonous in circle three, to the squanderers and misers in circle four, and finally the wrathful and sullen of circle five. The sins of self-indulgence function primarily as sins against other people with the only real trouble represented by the unbaptized children and pagans. Divine law would dictate that the unbaptized must be placed in hell, though because these people had no way of knowing Christ they are not actively punished. Instead, their punishment consists only of separation from God.

As the first section of hell consists of those who commit sins against mankind, they are organized according to the degree of harm these sins often inflict. Thus, the lustful are placed first, just after limbo, because their sin usually involves only themselves. The gluttonous come next, because theirs is the frigid sin of self-indulgence—they come to ignore the world in favor for the pleasure of their own senses, and, while not necessarily causing direct harm to anyone, they devalue God’s creation. The squanderers and misers in circle four, however, can easily be thought of as causing harm to others. Resources squandered or hoarded are resources that cannot be put to use by those who need them most. Of all the sins against man, wrath and sullenness are considered the greatest, because they lead to direct harm. Sullenness leads to harm being inflicted upon oneself, while the wrathful harm others.

The punishments of the first five circles of hell give the impression of a harsh, mechanical God. For instance, the philosophers and unbaptized children reside in hell, albeit in the most pleasant circle of hell. This shows that Dante’s God is more involved on the axis of law versus chaos than that of good versus evil. Compassion would dictate that some form of judge be installed to determine if the inhabitants of the first circle deserve a shot at paradise, despite their accidental births. Because God’s law says that those who are unbaptized, or who do not believe in God, must go to hell, then to hell they go. Perhaps God’s compassion shows through in their punishment; because they are in hell they must be punished, but because they committed no sins their punishment is not made too severe: They must endure eternity in hopelessness.

After circle five, Dante and Virgil descend into lower hell, which consists of circles six and seven. Lower hell is represented in the introduction by the lion, and contains the violent and bestial sinners. In circle six are the heretics, who reside in fiery tombs. In life they held beliefs which did not coincide with those required by God, and because of their perversion of the beliefs of others are held in the sixth circle of hell. Next is the seventh circle, which is divided into three sections: The violent against people and property, the violent against the self, and the violent against God and nature. The seventh circle is organized according to the subject of violence—the violent against people and property (property being the means of sustaining life) are placed further out, with the next, the violent against the self, being in the middle. Violence against the self is deemed more heinous than that against others because self violence is a perversion of the gift of life. Finally, those who commit violence against God and nature are judged most harshly in this circle. The violent against nature includes the sodomites, who are guilty of sodomy in the biblical sense—that is, sexual acts which do not lead directly to procreation. The violent against the divine are also called violent against benefactors, and for this reason, are considered the most violent of the three groups.

The last section of hell consists of the eighth and ninth circles, each of which is split up into several smaller sections. The eighth circle is called the Malebolge, which, when translated, means evil ditches or pockets. There are ten of these pockets each containing the fraudulent and malicious; they progress in order toward the center of hell according to the severity of sin: Panderers and seducers, flatterers, simoniacs, fortune tellers and diviners, grafters, hypocrites, thieves, evil counselors, sowers of discord, and falsifiers. The eighth circle ends near the center of hell at the great well, where the ancient titans reside.

The ninth circle, or Cocytus, houses sinners who committed a more severe kind of fraud: Betrayal. Cocytus is home to the betrayers of country, betrayers of guests and hosts, and betrayers of benefactors. These last two circles, made up of the fraudulent and traitorous, are yet another example of God’s devotion to law and order rather than goodness or decency. The reason betrayal and fraud are the most severe sins is because of their effects on lawful and orderly systems—they completely disrupt the way things are supposed to be, introducing chaos into the system. God, being a creature of law, would of course harbor the deepest sense of loathing, and perhaps even fear, toward these agents of chaos. The divine order must have been severely disrupted when Lucifer betrayed God and convinced the other angels to rebel. It is for this introduction of chaos into the divinity and lawfulness of God’s heaven, and for the betrayal of God’s trust, that Lucifer languishes at the very center of hell.

Dante’s hell shows a Divine Will which is mechanical, and which rarely, if ever, considers the extenuating circumstances which might apply to individual sinners. God is not so much a moral agent as a functionary of order. An enforcer. It follows, then, that God must uphold this underlying principle absolutely, and exceptions cannot be made. Inferno shows that not only is the fate of man judged by infallible divine law, but that the hands of God, Himself, are tied by the necessity of upholding that law without reservation.

Works Cited

Alighieri, Dante. The Divine Comedy. Trans. John Ciardi. London: Penguin Books, 2003. Print.

Alienation

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The urgent screeching of the alarm clock brought Alex back to consciousness at 6:00 AM.  She was in her bed, on the lumpy mattress that needed replacing. She reached over to the old nightstand and turned off the alarm.  Resolving to lay in the comfort of her bed, Alex took in her studio apartment. The gray painted walls bowed in places; and a large print of Warner Sallman’s “Head of Christ” concealed a thick crack in the plaster opposite the bed.  There was a cheap coffee table and an old couch, a bookshelf full of books she hadn’t read, a small refrigerator, an oven, a tv that didn’t work. A line of shoes on the floor. A closet stuffed full of clothes and storage boxes. Her mother’s cedar chest.  After lying awake for what seemed like too much time, she gathered the will to get up.

A dull but serious pain ached through her muscles and bones as soon as she put her weight on her feet, crawling up through her legs to her spine and torso.  She gritted her teeth and walked to the cabinet over the stove. After starting her coffee pot, Alex kicked off her pajamas and proceeded to the shower.

She noticed a new cut on her right forearm, and several tender purple bruises on her hips and legs.  Every morning brought new damage to her body. Bruises, cuts, scrapes, once or twice a missing tooth or fingernail.  She was lucky, though, she was still fit for duty, which meant she could pay her rent. Some people lost limbs or went mad and were turned out of the corporate municipality to die in the wilderness.  What were a few bruises compared to exile and death? Whatever work she did, it kept a roof over her head and food in her belly. Not remembering was probably a blessing.

The shower timer ran out and the water pressure died down.  Alex stepped out to dry off and gazed at herself in the mirror.  She had a black eye, and a busted lip. Maybe she had been in a fight?  Surely she would know if she had been in a fight–she would have been written up and given a slip.  She dressed herself–cheap bra and underwear, plain shirt, plain pants. Back in the kitchen Alex poured herself a cup of coffee and drank it black.  She toasted some bread and ate it. The clock read 6:40 AM. Elevator privilege for her floor ended at 7. She emptied the coffee pot, pulled on her socks and shoes, and exited her apartment, turning down the hallway toward the elevator.

Janice and Bill, from two apartments down, were also waiting at the elevator.  Janice was missing an eye and some teeth. Her nose was crooked from having been broken.  Bill, who looked big and strong, was missing several fingers and walked with a limp. It must have been very hard work they did.  The three were friends, though, and so they tried not to talk about work–what little they knew of it. They would meet on the elevator and ride to the sorting station together on the subway most days.  The corporation had declared the first and last days of every month to be a social holiday with no work for most workers, and Janice and Bill and Alex enjoyed cooking meals for each other when their holidays coincided.  Janice and Bill pretended not to notice Alex’s black eye, and Alex pretended not to notice the fresh scar on Bill’s face. They chatted about food and plans and getting older, anything but the elevator slowly rising up through the floors.

The elevator doors rolled open with a low ding and a rumble, and the trio stepped on board, fighting for space.  Alex hated fighting for space. She hated being trapped in the full-to-capacity elevator. She hated riding down to the sub-basement, and she hated having to fight for space on the subway cars that took them to the sorting station, where they would be induced and sent to work.  She focused on counting the seconds. If she controlled her pace, and didn’t let the anxiety of being trapped in a box with the entire floor get to her, the doors would open at around 750. The subway ride was a little bit faster, closer to ten minutes. Everyone was slightly maimed or disfigured, except for sometimes the young.  It must be very dangerous work. Janice, knowing how claustrophobic Alex was, held her hand throughout the journey.

After an eternity of being packed into tiny spaces with too many people, the subway arrives, and the doors open, and the crowd spills out.  The sorting station is clean–immaculate, really. Everything looks brand new, from the fences to the benches and the propaganda posters that line the walls.  Alex’s favorite was the “Keep your body healthy, keep the corpo healthy” posters with dietary and exercise information and first aid information. It was so colorful.  There were several different sorting lines, though it was never clear where any of them led. Some of the lines would be closed off after a certain number of people queued up, and so people would jockey for these more limited lines. Alex didn’t believe it mattered which line you got into, but Bill did.  He liked to stand back and watch how quickly the lines moved, what kinds of patterns there were in the headcounts, and how he felt–what kinds of injuries he had–after having stood in a given line the day before.  

Today, Bill picked one of the limited lines, and managed to get Janice and Alex in before they closed the line at 500 headcount.  They moved up more slowly than the unlimited lines, which Bill felt would land them gentler jobs. The painted white brick of the sorting station loomed large before them, with its multiple entrances and large portraits of the corporate board.  As they shuffled up the line, one by one going through the inducement machine, Alex prepared herself mentally for what was coming. She had no idea what kind of work she would be assigned to do or what kinds of injuries might result from it, she only knew she would have no memory of it.

They had passed inside the building.  Fans blew the air around so it was cool and breezy.  An oak desk sat in the entryway, unmanned, as the line formed up on one of the many inducement machines.  The inducement machine was more like a large room, or series of rooms, than a machine. Several people could go through at once, each in their own small inducement room, where a thin blue light will be shone into their eyes.  The moment this light is registered in their brains, the workers go blank. They will follow any command, and they will have no memory of anything that happens to them while under inducement, which lasts until they enter into a state of deep sleep.  Alex’s turn came up. She took a deep breath, and entered the room. After a few seconds, the light shone into her eyes, and she was out.

The urgent screeching of the alarm clock brought Alex back to consciousness at 6:00 AM.  She was in her bed, under the washed out and frayed comforter that needed replacing. She turned off the alarm and lay in the comfort of her bed for a few moments, taking in her studio apartment.  Warner Sallman’s “Head of Christ” with his beautiful hair and face concealed a thick crack in the bowing plaster opposite the bed. A dirty coffee cup sat on the table in front of the old couch. A rug on the floor in front of the stuffed-full closet.  Her mother’s cedar chest. The cross from over the doorway had fallen on the floor. Her coat draped over a chair. After lying awake for what seemed like too much time, she gathered the will to get up.