How the Ideas in Michel Foucault’s “Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison” (1975) Are Represented in Kazuo Ishiguro’s “The Remains of the Day” (1989) and “Never Let Me Go” (2005)
In the first section of his book, entitled ‘The body of the condemned’, Foucault makes reference to the rules that Leon Faucher had drawn up concerning the government of young Parisian prisoners, in the form of a detailed set of articles, concerning inmates’ rising, work, meals, schooling, etc.[1] This may be found in both of Ishiguro’s novels. In Never Let Me Go, Hailsham students are obviously expected to follow certain rules of civility and decorum, and also seem to follow unwritten rules at the Cottages, which retain a rather ambiguous function. In The Remains of the Day, of course, the entirety of the Darlington Hall staff follows certain rules, with the majority following Stevens’ organisation without question, while Stevens himself is obviously expected to follow whatever system Lord Darlington wishes to retain as far as the running of the household is concerned. In this sense, while Stevens creates and follows rules, they are ultimately unwritten. One should consider the rules that Steven imposes on himself, in his own mind, that keep him safely secure and comfortable in knowing his position in the house is the only thing he has to be concerned with. Thus, such rules for the psyche are a benefit to him, which in turn benefit the staff and ultimately the order of the working sphere, giving everyone a purpose.
In the case of both novels, we never see any of their respective rules being broken or tampered with. We only ever see Stevens correcting lower members of staff, with intentions for being meticulous, and a particular incident with Miss Kenton’s annoyance at Stevens’ request, when the latter wished Miss Kenton would refer to his father by his surname. However, we do see both Kathy H. and Tommy D. challenging the otherwise unchallenged social system, by merely thinking about considering a different route. While the entirety of Never Let Me Go is written in the format of Kathy’s own recollections on her life growing up at Hailsham, the Cottages, and becoming a carer, thus resembling a memoir or diary, we should not consider any part of it to be a quiet rebellion. Kathy only ever comes close to musing on what all the clones are ultimately expected to do, which is the reason they were created for. Even in moments of anger, our main characters only ever vent their frustrations, but are resigned to their fates with no comprehension of riot. One may go so far as to wonder whether that was the way the clones were made, that is, genetically altered to never question their surroundings or position in society.
What is ultimately the crux of Foucault’s research is the disappearance of torture and punishment as a public spectacle. The change of a public to a private display comes with its own adjustments, in that a public punishment or execution is always applied in the same way to any individual and is subjected to the memory of all, while private punishments may bring to mind the macabre creativity used in torture, which would focus on the specifics of the individual in making them submit. Foucault mentions that ‘[p]unishment will tend to become the most hidden part of the penal process’,[2] in that ‘[o]ne no longer touched the body, or at least as little as possible, and then only to reach something other than the body itself.’[3] In Never Let Me Go, this may be found towards the end of the novel, where Miss Emily explains the history behind the cloning process:
“After the war, in the early fifties, when the great breakthroughs in science followed one after the other so rapidly, there wasn’t time to take stock, to ask the sensible questions. Suddenly there were all these new possibilities laid before us, all these ways to cure so many previously incurable conditions. This was what the world noticed the most, wanted the most. And for a long time, people preferred to believe these organs appeared from nowhere, or at most that they grew in a kind of vacuum.”[4]
Foucault continues by stating that ‘[p]hysical pain, the pain of the body itself, is no longer the constituent element of the penalty’, and that ‘[f]rom being an art of unbearable sensations punishment has become an economy of suspended rights.’[5] This sense of moving away from actual physical pain into a cleaner, more detached form of punishment and constricting one’s liberty, reminds one of the Madame in Never Let Me Go, who actually flinches whenever she comes into close proximity with the students, which Kathy interprets as her actually being afraid and even disgusted by them. However, more than that scene, we have the reasoning behind the cloning process in general, giving us a similarity to the private punishment procedure that prevents people from having to get their hands dirty:
“So for a long time you were kept in the shadows, and people did their best not to think about you. And if they did, they tried to convince themselves you weren’t really like us. That you were less than human, so it didn’t matter.”[6]
Following this same theme, Stevens in The Remains of the Day is an invisible butler, in that he believes one should neither be heard nor seen unless called for. Foucault further states that ‘[a]s a result of this new restraint, a whole army of technicians took over from the executioner’, giving us ‘the disappearance of the spectacle and the elimination of pain.’[7] This also reminds one of the entire surgical procedure that donors go through in Never Let Me Go, where successful donations are referred to as ‘completing’, and one can expect that the more organs given, the less lively a donor becomes. It makes sense that towards the end of the novel, when Tommy will be completing for his fourth and last time (as one has to remain realistic about such things), he does not wish Kathy to be his carer and having to be around to see him in such a state, thus highlighting an individual’s natural inclination towards dignity in dying.
Ultimately, Foucault recognises that ‘since it is no longer the body, it must be the soul’, that is, ‘[t]he expiation that once rained down upon the body must be replaced by a punishment that acts in depth on the heart, the thoughts, the will, the inclinations.’[8] We know that public spectacles were built on the idea of inducing fear, that a person will be discouraged from committing crimes for fear of meeting a similar fate. But there is now the idea of ‘converting a soul’[9] as Foucault puts it, tackling the problem at the heart of the individual, in trying to see what makes that person tick. This sounds very similar to Room 101 in George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, the aim of which is to use the individual’s truest fear against them in order to prove that such desperate circumstances would lead them to sell their own loved ones as long as they are not subjected to such torture. We also know that Oceania maintains control by removing any presence of individual thinking. Thus, we have the idea of the matter no longer being just about a crime, but the actual idea of thinking as a crime. In Never Let Me Go, Rodney and Chrissie ask Tommy, Kathy, and Ruth about the rumour they have heard regarding deferrals, and that Hailsham students were treated differently. When they tell the couple that what they know of deferrals might just have been a lie to keep people hoping and dreaming, there is hardly any concept of retaliation from the couple, who were hoping to defer for a few years on the basis of their supposedly being in love. Similar acts of frustration following unwelcome information are found in Tommy’s yelling episode at the end of the novel, when he and Kathy have now made certain that deferrals were just a myth, as well as Ruth’s earlier episode at being disappointed to find that her Possible (the original of a clone) was merely someone who happened to look like her. This sense of injustice may also be found in the entire hierarchy system of The Remains of the Day, where the entire novel could be seen as Stevens attempting to convince himself that his life was not wasted away. He considers it a privilege to be the head butler at Darlington Hall. These necessary delusions are part and parcel of an individual’s situation in life, in the sense that the clones were made for a particular reason and accept it, just as Stevens, as his father before him, was born into the position of a butler, making it the only thing he has ever known, which, in a way, is a limitation of his liberty. Furthermore, there is no revolution on Stevens part when he is ridiculed by guests of Lord Darlington, being asked questions that those present know he cannot answer.
Foucault states that ‘[d]uring the 150 or 200 years that Europe has been setting up its new penal systems, the judges have gradually […] taken to judging something other than crimes, namely, the ‘soul’ of the criminal.’[10] The concept of the soul is very much prevalent in Never Let Me Go, as it is what makes Hailsham a different, more humane school, in the administration’s attempt to show that clones deserve better treatment in all institutions. Madame’s Gallery, a collection of the students’ best art, turns out to be an exhibition project to show that clones do in fact have souls; that art as a form of expression can definitely determine its existence. In The Remains of the Day, we get a sense of a passionate soul in Stevens, trapped and wanting to live, slightly realised in his modern-day trip through the countryside, as well as in Miss Benn nee Kenton, a woman in a patriarchal society that expects female workers to stop working should they ever get married.
As can be seen, the sense of a revolution, or, in the case of our chosen novels, the lack thereof, as discussed by Foucault, is certainly present. We have already mentioned that it is confirmed by Miss Emily in Never Let Me Go that Hailsham was an experiment in attempting to prove that clones were not different just because they were clones; that ‘[a]ll around the country, […] there are students being reared in deplorable conditions, conditions […] Hailsham students could hardly imagine.’[11] One can take this into consideration with what Foucault states — that recent prison revolts ‘were […] against an entire state of physical misery that is over a century old: against cold, suffocation and overcrowding, against decrepit walls, hunger, [and] physical maltreatment.’[12] Tommy’s likability further emphasises his innocence, with his meltdowns and anger issues apparently being a trait of the original he was cloned from. His character makes the reader angry that any of this should be expected of him, almost moving us to revolt for him, the other clones, their treatment, and the way they are viewed by society. Stevens lives in two separate decades of times that actually existed, and events that actually happened, so we have a good sense of the social revolutions to come concerning the individual’s role in society. Foucault goes on to say that ‘[w]hat was at issue was not that the prison environment was too hard […], too primitive or too efficient, but its very materiality as an instrument and vector of power.’[13]
In the second part of the book, entitled ‘Punishment’, Foucault refers to ‘the contractual principle that expels the criminal from society and the image of the monster ‘vomited’ by nature,’[14] which undoubtedly brings to mind the way non-clones view clones in Never Let Me Go. He continues by referring to a ‘principle of calculation’, that ‘[t]he body, the imagination, pain, the heart to be respected are not, in effect, those of the criminal that is to be punished, but those of the men who, having subscribed to the pact, have the right of exercising against him the power of assembly.’[15] This applies to Stevens’ situation in The Remains of the Day, in that, while as a person in the present reminiscing on his life, he is already living in a modern world where one is free to live the life they choose. It is unfortunate that Stevens is taking a break from a world that he knows he must return to, as it is the only thing he has ever known, and the work that defines him as a human being. Ultimately, Foucault is distinguishing between the old and new intentions behind punishment, the former, as already mentioned, being of the type that seeks to prevent the crime from occurring again, while the latter has more of a calculated aspect to it. In the case of our two novels, we have individuals being assigned a kind of punishment, either constriction of liberty or social exclusion, based solely on who they are born as, or the position they are born into. Thus, there is a sense of ‘individualisation’[16] that Foucualt refers to.
The third section of Foucault’s book deals with ‘Discipline’, which is unsurprisingly present in our two novels. Foucault refers to a number of techniques designed to ensure discipline, with the first being that of ‘enclosure’, that is, ‘the specification of a place heterogeneous to all others and closed in upon itself.’[17] Of course, Stevens’ world is one built on discipline. But it is the Hailsham educational system that is intriguing here, in that students are taught very particular things that will ultimately teach them nothing about the real world. They are being kept in an intellectual box, being taught the things that will only serve the purpose they received at birth. For example, at one point they are learning about the different stages of pregnancy, which is almost cruel given that, as clones, they are born incapable of having children. There are also differing opinions regarding smoking amongst the Guardians, with some obviously getting cross about it, while others disregard it. It is haunting to realise that the Guardians’ disapproval and disciplining of smoking is due to the fact that the clones’ organs are technically being grown for their originals, should they ever need them. In that sense, perhaps those Guardians who are more lenient are, in a way, helping the clones get back at the system that made them and put them in that situation.
The second technique involves ‘partitioning’, that ‘[e]ach individual has his own place; and each place its individual’, which would include the avoidance of distribution in groups, as highlighted by the third technique, that of ‘functional sites’.[18] This reminds one of the Cottages where only a few clones are sent to live in. Foucault mentions that towards the end of the eighteenth century, factories distributed individuals in ‘a space in which one might isolate them and map them.’[19] This idea of mapping individuals is never specifically detailed in Never Let Me Go, as we are meant to assume that the idea of revolution and simply running away (even though there is nothing to run away to) is part of their genetic makeup. However, to make up for this science-fictional assumption in the novel, the 2010 film adaptation had the clones wearing bracelets that they are required to scan next to the Cottage door upon returning.
The fourth technique is that of ‘rank’, that is, ‘place one occupies in a classification.’[20] While the clones are considered in a different class of humanity, the younger Stevens belongs to a world that was defined by social rank. There is a lingering sense of the illusion of freedom — that the clones and Stevens are free to leave whenever they like, but the image of a frightening world keeps them locked away in the familiar.
According to Foucault, ‘the exercise of discipline presupposes a mechanism that coerces by means of observation,’ and refers to hierarchical ‘observatories’ as the ideal models to carry out such an exercise.[21] It goes without saying that the term ‘hierarchy’ goes hand in hand with the world of The Remains of the Day, though ultimately lax in Lord Darlington’s case, as one would envision the idea of being overseen as penetrative, when the downstairs world of the household servants is a completely separate world that Lord Darlington never steps foot into and thus knows nothing about. If anything, one may say that Stevens is in his own observatory, as he overhears everything that takes place in the house — even meetings that had an impact on World War II. In the case of Never Let Me Go, Kathy mentions that you cannot really hide anywhere at Hailsham, as there is always a Guardian around watching. The same goes for the Cottages, with Kathy and Ruth sometimes leaving their conversations for other places as there is always bound to be someone eavesdropping. Following with the element of hierarchy, Foucault states that ‘[t]he distribution according to ranks or grade has a double role: it marks the gaps, hierarchises qualities, skills and aptitudes; but it also punishes and rewards.’[22] We never get to see much of a disciplinary system at Hailsham, if there is one at all, but they do have a system where good paintings are rewarded by Tokens that students can use to buy things with at an Exchange, a kind of bazaar of second-hand items.
Finally, Foucault states that ‘[t]he disciplines mark the moment when the reversal of the political axis of individualisation […] take place.’[23] Ultimately, Hailsham clones are treated differently, given the opportunity to become their own individuals, having souls and the power to dream. It should follow that they can almost take on the world, but, as the Madame notes towards the end of the novel: “Poor creatures. What did we do to you? With all our schemes and plans?”[24] The only difference, as with Stevens in his position as butler, is that they are merely aware of it.
[1] Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. by Alan Sheridan (England: Penguin Books, 1977), p. 6.
[2] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 9.
[3] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 11.
[4] Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go (London: Faber and Faber, 2005), p. 257.
[5] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 11.
[6] Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go, p. 258.
[7] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 11.
[8] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 16.
[9] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 17.
[10] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 19.
[11] Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go, p. 255.
[12] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p.30.
[13] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 30.
[14] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 91.
[15] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 91.
[16] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 99.
[17] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 141.
[18] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 143.
[19] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 144.
[20] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 145.
[21] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 170.
[22] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 180.
[23] Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 192.
[24] Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go, p. 249.
