I'm going to use six different dystopian series, as well as references from history, as my examples when answering these questions, but it really all boils down to four very simple things: apathy, fear, blame, and hope. This blog will actually be broken up into four separate posts to prevent having to scroll through a lengthy research-paper-length post if anyone wants to look for something specific.
Apathy
The first factor is apathy. According to the dictionary, apathy is defined as indifference, a lack of concern, or a lack of interest. Basically, a state of apathy is a state of just plain not caring. It's a sad truth that most people (in this country, at least) can't be roused to a true state of caring unless something directly affects them or someone they know. The most you'll get is, "Oh, that's horrible." And then they'll move on to something they feel is more relevant to them. I saw this constantly in high school, in students as well as adults. I was even guilty of it myself due to my PTSD, but that's another story for another time. Sadly, a lot of people just don't care about anyone beyond themselves or their sphere of friends and loved ones. How many people ignore a kid being abused by their parents in a parking lot? Or walk by someone being ripped to shreds by their peers? I'm not saying everyone does this. I know they don't. But a lot of people do. And that is often the first thing a lot of people do in different dystopian novels, though for many different reasons.
In Ann Aguire's Enclave, which is actually a horribly written book but with viable and very-well developed characterization of the MC (for the first 2/3 of the novel, anyway), there's a girl named Deuce. Deuce is a fighter for her enclave who lives in a world of kill-or-be-killed, predator-and-prey. She believes she can't afford to care about anyone who can't take care of themselves because that is how she was raised in a world where failure to protect yourself means death for you and countless other people. So though she feels some guilt, when the council of her enclave votes for the death of a blind nine-year-old boy because he's basically a drain on their resources and can't take care of himself or contribute to the welfare of the community, she doesn't protest (even silently).
A similar thing happens later in the novel (in the final third that really just makes me want to know what this author was smoking when she wrote it*, yet sadly this part sort of fits with Deuce's personality) when Deuce meets a guy called Wolf. Wolf is not only a thug and a killer, he's an admitted rapist. But because he can fight and Deuce and her partner are in a dangerous area, she puts aside what he's done in the past—including kidnap and try to rape Deuce and their third member—in order to use his fighting prowess against their enemies. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, but her total acceptance, her attitude of "that was then, this is now" is exactly the sort of "don't care" attitude I'm talking about in this post.
* The thing that just totally throws me isn't that Deuce allows Wolf to live and uses him fight with them; it's that he's the second guy in her little love triangle and she's okay with that. She actually finds him attractive. I'm just like, "What kind of crack-acid do you smoke?" This is near the middle of the final third of the book, so I finished it anyway, but I just could not believe this. And people complain about Stephenie Meyer and The Twilight Saga, and how Edward's abusive. Um, Ann Aguire got optioned for a trilogy, I heard there might be a movie, and she's a best-seller. Not as big as S. Meyer, but still! With an idiot like that for a heroine? Really? Okay, rant over.
In Matched, the main character, Cassia, is one of those rare individuals who has rarely questioned the Society—the totalitarian system in which she lives. Though there are some things about the Society's rules that she doesn't like, she doesn’t really care about them enough to worry. Why? For a very different reason than Deuce: Cassia knows what the Society has provided for her in exchange for these "small unpleasantries."
In the Society, for example, Cassia opts to get married eventually (she can choose to remain single for the rest of her life if she chooses). The boy who will become her husband is dictated by the Officials based on the data they've collected about her personality and other traits compared to the boy's over the course of their lives. That would irritate the crud out of me, but not Cassia, and with valid reason—her parents were Matched by the Society and have a very happy and healthy relationship, a relationship just like the one Cassia wants for herself. She knows other people who've been happily Matched with their spouse by the Society as well. So this lack of choice doesn’t bother her because of the happiness of what is basically a guaranteed outcome. She's seen the process, seen how it works, and seen the results—which are results she wants.
The same applies to most of what's going on in her life: her job, her recreational activities, even her diet. In the beginning of the book, the restriction of her choices doesn't bother her because she's trading the ability to choose for what she believes she wants based on what she's seen from other people.
The one time Cassia almost violently breaks this mold of not caring, of trading her choices for happiness, is when her father dies. In the Society, people die at eighty years old on their birthday, by government mandate. This sounds outrageous. Crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. But even though Cassia is stricken by her grandfather's death, even though she at times thinks that it isn't fair, she still has that mindset of trading choice for happiness.
This also touches a little on fear, so we'll explore that in another segment of this blog series, but again—her desire for a specific outcome that she sees all around her helps Cassia set aside her concerns about the Society (when she has them, which only happens regularly once the plot picks up).
In The Hunger Games, we see apathy in its worst form: people who don't care because they worry too much about themselves to be bothered with other people. Now, let me again stress, not everyone is like that in the series. And those that are have good reason. For the most part, the people in District 12 are barely scraping by. Katniss and her family nearly starved to death after her father died when she was twelve because they are so poor. She basically lives in one of the ghettos of Panem (the country in which this takes place).
Though a few of her neighbors in District 12 help her out a little—this is the starting point for her relationship with Peeta Mellark, the other tribute from District 12, who risked a beating from his mother to give Katniss and her family a few burnt loaves of bread—they can't help very much because they, too, are in dire straits and can't afford to help. Those that aren't in such straits simply don't care. An example is Peeta's (relatively) wealthy mother, who would rather give the burnt bread to their pig than give it to a starving child. And the government of Panem actually actively encourages this attitude towards neighbors as well as between the districts, helping to discourage any teamwork between the different districts against the Capitol.
Specifically with Districts 5-12 in The Hunger Games, the Capitol also encourages another form of apathy: the lethargy/uncaring induced by lack of will/strength. As I mentioned previously, most of these people are not wealthy. They barely scrape by unless they resort to poaching (as Katniss does, which is illegal and is actually a capital offense). When every minute of the day is filled with the efforts to feed yourself and your family, most people don't have the energy to plot political unrest or rebellion (though some do). They are literally too tired to do anything, even care, most of the time.
And onto that, one district could not take out the forces of the entire Capitol, and it is very difficult to travel between the districts. The Capitol has, of course, done this on purpose to keep communication to a minimum between districts, to keep them from banding together. You see a similar concept in detention in schools—teachers keep the kids separate to keep them from talking to each other. In Panem, distrust of the other districts is also pumped up because of the event of the Hunger Games within the story. This helps contribute to the general attitude of, "It's too difficult, too risky, without enough payoff" in regards to rebellion.
In The Iron Codex by Caitlin Kittredge, the apathy comes more from an established class hierarchy than anything else. Example: a well-to-do family doesn’t give a flying rat's buttered carcass if a homeless person labeled as a psychopath and a heretic (similar in this world to being called a Communist) is carted off to prison without a trial, or killed in the street, so long as they don't have to step around the blood puddle.
The same applies to those individuals in this world who contract what is known as the necrovirus, a so-called sickness that turns people into monsters. So long as everyone who "matters" is kept safe from the virus and the inhuman things it breeds, they don't care how those who're infected are dealt with—especially because it has no cure.
You see the same thing in Lauren Oliver's Delirium. In Delirium, the MC Lena doesn’t care about many of the restrictions placed on her: a city-enforced curfew of 9:00pm; rules about fraternizing with males (yeah, you saw that); censored reading, movie, and musical material. She only cares about being kept safe from the "disease" that killed her mother by causing her to commit suicide and nearly killed her sister—amora deliria nervosa (aka intense emotion).
And this really ties into the fear-aspect of the totalitarian government. Without fear—fear of what happens to me, be it from a natural influence such as starvation, or a manmade influence such as government reprisals, or something like a highly contagious illness—most people don't have the "don't care" issue in these novels. Their apathy is heightened by their fear. So long as they are kept safe, they don't care what has to happen to ensure that.
Which leads us to our next blog post: Fear as a Tool of Coercion in Dystopian Governments.
