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56 pages 1 hour read

Osamu Dazai

No Longer Human

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1948

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Themes

Disqualified as a Human Being

The original Japanese title of No Longer Human, Ningen Shikkaku, or Disqualified From Being Human, is also one of its themes. From the very beginning, Yozo is depicted as an “effigy” of a person—that, even to look at him, “Something ineffable makes the beholder shudder in distaste” (17). His childhood grin is “nothing more than a puckering of ugly wrinkles,” and he is described by the unnamed narrator as a “‘wizened, hideous little boy’” (14). His college photograph produces “a sensation of complete artificiality. Pretense, insincerity, fatuousness—none of these words quite covers it” (15). In short, Yozo is lacking something fundamental that makes one a human being; he has been disqualified from the category from the start. However, the narrator’s observations are an outlier: The three photographs, along with Yozo’s grotesque self-portraits, are the only evidence of what lies beneath his façade. Yozo believes his façade, his “human disguise,” is complete enough to endear those around him. The madame of a bar that he frequented describes him as “‘a good boy, an angel’” (177). The discrepancies between his inner self and his outer presentation suggests that it is an internal condition that prevents him from being human: Loss of agency due to childhood trauma causes Yozo to regard himself as something less than human.

As a child, Yozo was sexually assaulted by his servants, particularly one maidservant. Details on this subject are sparse, but they indicate that the abuse was recurring, rather than a one-time event. It can be inferred that this destroyed Yozo’s trust in others. He ultimately talked himself out of telling his parents, as he “wondered if in the end I would not be argued into silence by someone in good graces with the world, by the excuses of which the world approved” (35). The result is enduring his abuse with a passivity that he will later display in nearly any circumstance where he is the victim—including when his servant, Tetsu, violates him.

Yozo believes that others’ reprimands are “without doubt voices of human truth,” and that “since I lacked the strength to act in accordance with this truth, I might already have been disqualified from living among human beings” (27). This inability to answer reprimands—or any question of personal wishes—indicates that what disqualifies him as a human is lack of agency, learned helplessness. Yozo’s stay at a psychiatric hospital (which he initially mistakes for a tuberculosis ward) appears to be the breaking point for his ego. He has never been one to stand up for himself, so he readily accepts his new label as a madman. In Yozo’s own words, he is “Disqualified as a human being” (167); passivity becomes his survival technique. By the end of the novel, he is unable to do anything in his own interest, embodying the one truth he learned from society: “Everything passes” (169).

Yozo’s Faith: Shame, Sin, and Virtue

Yozo is not a particularly religious man, but he does fall back on religious concepts such as God, sin, and virtue. To Yozo, God is a hypothetical, impersonal force to whom he can assign blame and ask questions with no expectation of an answer. He does not believe in God’s salvation but rather the punitive aspects of the deity: Faith is “the act of facing the tribunal of justice with one’s head bowed to receive the scourge of God” (117). In addition, he states, “I could believe in hell, but it was impossible for me to believe in the existence of heaven” (117). This is in accordance with Yozo’s belief that he is fundamentally without redemption. This explains his self-destruction, his unconsciously (or perhaps consciously) seeking a new rock bottom to which he may fall.

Yozo’s view of life is inflected by his deep sense of shame, with which he cannot reconcile. Where most live life seeking pleasure and status, Yozo’s primary motivation is avoiding shame and numbing himself to preexisting shame. Shame is intricately linked to his ideas of sin and virtue; the three concepts are entangled in his mind, so their definitions blur and intersect. Shame leads Yozo to sin in the form of drinking, womanizing, and abusing morphine; sinning causes him to feel shame. It is a negative feedback loop, leading him ever toward self-destruction.

Yoshiko is the one pure thing in Yozo’s life, placed beyond the touch of shame and sin by her ability to trust unconditionally. However, Yoshiko’s virtue is corrupted (in Yozo’s eyes) when she is raped. Yoshiko’s virtue begins to be conflated with sin, and Yozo reflects, “Now that I harbored doubts about the one virtue I had depended on, I lost all comprehension of everything around me. My only resort was drink” (152). The conflation of shame, sin, and virtue leaves Yozo with no ideological core to anchor himself. By the end of No Longer Human, he still has no bearing except complete passivity—and even this he questions: “God, I ask you, is non-resistance a sin?” (167).

The Fear of Poverty

When Yozo visits Horiki and tastes his mother’s lackluster food, he writes “It is true I dread poverty, but I do not believe I have ever despised it” (110). This fear of poverty is a significant factor in Yozo’s life. While he grew up in an affluent family, as an adult, he never has much money (due to his vices). Fear drives him beyond his usual passivity, causing him to take action, lie, and make up excuses to beg for money from his family. Yozo begins to suspect, after Horiki’s disgust at Tsuneko’s poverty, that “The clash between rich and poor...really is one of the eternal themes of drama” (85). Tsuneko’s poverty disgusts even the lecherous Horiki, but it is this abjection that attracts Yozo to her: He feels “a welling-up of a feeling of comradeship for this fellow-sufferer from poverty” (85).

Because of Yozo’s preoccupation with poverty, his and Horiki’s foray into a Marxist student group is ironic. The Marxist ideology espoused by the group seeks societal reorganization along class lines: A redistribution of wealth would put an end to both the poverty of the lower class and the excess wealth of the upper class. Yozo is interested “not so much in [the group’s] basic aims as its personality,” while Horiki uses it “as a pretext for idiotic banter” (68). Marxism was a popular trend among the youth of the era; though Marxist movements were forced underground, they attracted rebellious types like Horiki, as well as misfits like Yozo. While Yozo agrees with the materialist philosophies of Marxism, he “felt that there was something inexplicable at the bottom of human society which was not reduceable to economics (66). However, the motivation behind his first attempt to die by suicide reveals his hypocrisy in this matter. Unable to even pay for a glass of milk, Yozo recounts, “This was a humiliation more strange than any I had tasted before, a humiliation I could not live with...I suppose I had still not managed to extricate myself from the part of the rich man’s son” (87). It is not Yozo’s fear of humanity or his isolation that causes him to commit to the idea of suicide—it is the deep sense of shame that comes with poverty.

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