Bernard Marx’s dissatisfaction with the World State is fascinating. He’s an Alpha, one of the so-called elite, yet he feels completely at odds with society’s norms. His discomfort makes you wonder — why does someone who seemingly has every societal advantage feel so disconnected?That’s exactly the thing, isn’t it? Bernard isn’t just dissatisfied—he’s, like, craving something real. He’s desperate for meaningful experiences, but in a world as synthetic as theirs, how do you even find that?Right. And it’s not just about wanting to be different for the sake of being different. His feelings seem rooted in a deep resistance to, well, being just another cog in the machine. There’s this moment when he says he’d rather be “himself and nasty” than another “happy” member of the social body.Yes! That scene with Lenina really sticks with me — when she’s offering him soma, trying to get him to just shut off those feelings, and he refuses. It’s kinda heartbreaking, honestly. The poor guy just wants to feel something genuine but keeps getting shut down.Exactly. It’s almost like he’s the one chink in society’s flawless, stable facade. And you know, psychologists have looked into this kind of discontent. A study I read once talked about how societal pressure to conform can disconnect people from their own sense of identity. Seems spot on for Bernard.Totally. It’s like, everyone around him is just... content with the status quo, right? And that’s the scariest part to me — it’s not that Lenina doesn’t understand his feelings; it’s that she can’t even begin to imagine what he’s talking about. I mean, she’s convinced that happiness is popping a pill and going to a wrestling match!It’s such a stark contrast, isn’t it? For Bernard, happiness—or just being human—means dealing with complexity, experiencing some discomfort, and being able to challenge his role in society. And for Lenina, it’s... smooth, unthinking bliss.But that kind of happiness feels so... empty. Like, what’s the point of living if everything is just prepackaged for you, you know?And that’s where Bernard really shines as a character. He challenges the idea that true contentment can come from conditioning alone. But the question is, what does that rebellion cost him within this society?You know, what really gets me is how Bernard's rebellion exposes just how fake happiness is in the World State. They’re all conditioned to think they’re happy, but it’s so... shallow. There’s no room for real emotions or actual connections with anyone, and Bernard sees that so clearly.Exactly. What stands out to me is how they’ve essentially engineered happiness to eliminate all forms of discomfort or conflict. Through conditioning and soma, they’ve removed what we might call the “human element.” But then—is it really happiness, or something else entirely?It’s gotta be something else. Like, if you’re just avoiding pain or pretending it doesn’t exist, you’re not actually dealing with it. I remember visiting this small community once—super rigid social norms, kinda like in the book. Everyone was always smiling, but it was so obvious that people were just... putting on a show. It felt robotic.That’s such a great example, and it mirrors Bernard’s experience perfectly. He wants more than the surface-level pleasantries of their society. The scene where he stops the helicopter to look at the sea? It’s such a powerful moment because Bernard isn’t just rejecting artificial happiness—he’s yearning for something authentic, even if it’s solitude or discomfort.And Lenina, oh my gosh, her reaction is so telling. She’s, like, horrified by it. Horrified by silence, by thinking, by anything that isn’t loud and easy to ignore. It’s like she can’t even comprehend why Bernard isn’t satisfied with what everyone else accepts.Right, and that inability to understand is what makes their society so isolating. They’re so focused on stability that individuality and deep emotional connection don’t even exist anymore. When you strip away challenges and complexities, you also lose the things that make life meaningful.Totally. It’s creepy, actually—this idea that keeping everyone happy all the time is the same as fixing society. It’s not. It’s just... easier to control people when they’re numb.And that control isn’t just in their external behavior. It’s in their very thoughts, shaped by hypnopaedia and reinforced constantly. Bernard’s loneliness stems from his ability to see through all this, but it doesn’t make him any less trapped by it.Yeah, because even when he tries to rebel, no one else gets it. Lenina’s pushing soma down his throat the moment he feels anything real. It’s like, does she even know what happiness is herself?So when Bernard and Lenina make their way to the Savage Reservation, you can’t help but notice how it’s a complete upheaval of everything the World State stands for. It’s like crossing a boundary from a manufactured calm to a raw, unfiltered reality. Bernard must feel even more drawn to this; it’s the kind of contrast that screams authenticity amidst all the control he’s been questioning.Yeah, and Bernard’s reaction to it all is so complicated. He’s thrilled to see something raw and unregulated, but he’s also terrified. It’s like... finally being exposed to a reality he doesn’t fully know how to handle.Exactly. This trip crystallizes Bernard’s internal struggle. You see his yearning for freedom play out as he rejects the control and artificial “happiness” of soma. That moment when he refuses to compromise, even when it distances him further from Lenina, speaks volumes about his conflict.And poor Lenina! She’s just left totally bewildered. For her, the Reservation represents everything she’s been conditioned to fear and avoid. It’s messy and unpredictable, all the things their society has erased. She can’t fathom why Bernard isn’t absolutely repulsed by it too.Right. It’s a fascinating dynamic. Bernard sees the untamed chaos as a kind of liberation, a way to reconnect with his individuality. Lenina, on the other hand, is horrified by it because it doesn’t fit into the perfect, stable world she knows. Her conditioning has eliminated any capacity to even question the status quo.Which is so sad, isn’t it? There’s this moment where he talks about wanting to feel more like himself, more than just another part of the social body, and Lenina just... breaks down. She can’t imagine a world where you’re not part of this bigger, preordained system.And that’s precisely what makes the World State so isolating, ironically enough. It eliminates discomfort, yes, but in doing so, it takes away individuality, authentic experiences, even genuine connection. Bernard is isolated not just because he’s different, but because the society itself can’t accommodate difference.It reminds me of this community I visited once—everything was about following strict rules to maintain harmony. People smiled a lot, sure, but it felt so performative. No one really expressed themselves. It’s the same kind of eerie isolation you see in the book.That’s a great parallel. And it highlights that Bernard’s story isn’t just about his resistance—it’s also about what happens when a society prioritizes conformity over individuality. It’s a cautionary tale for any attempt to suppress complexity and freedom in the name of “utopia.”Absolutely. That’s the most chilling part to me—how easily the pursuit of perfection turns into something so deeply isolating. It's almost like humanity gets lost in the process, you know?Exactly. And on that note, it’s a reminder of the importance of embracing our complexity, as messy and uncomfortable as it can be. Because, ultimately, it’s those challenges that make life meaningful.Couldn’t agree more. And honestly, I think that’s what makes Huxley’s world so terrifying—it’s not just fiction. It feels like it could happen if we’re not careful.Well said, Sara. And with that, I think we’ll wrap it up for this episode. Thanks for listening, everyone. Until next time, question the norms and embrace the chaos!See you next time! Bye!

Episodes

Alienation in Utopia