A Man by the Name of Ziegler: We Are Not Alone, But We Are on our Own

Children are generally taught that everyone is capable of becoming whomever they choose, and they are encouraged to aspire to whatever goals they can possibly imagine. They create their own ideal lives in their minds based on various influences, such as parents, teachers, friends, what they see on television and read in books, and so on. They do not allow or even understand, the concept of constraints because they are taught that the sky is the limit. In Hermann Hesse’s, A Man by the Name of Ziegler, the eponymous main character has reached young adulthood and has come to regard himself as a pleasant and unique person, whose life and place within it is just as it should be. But when he ventures to an unknown city, he is ill-prepared for the unexpected journey which throws his entire system of values and beliefs into upheaval. He is eventually cast out by the society against which he measures his own worth, shunned by those who helped shape and define who and what he has become. He is left on his own, disillusioned and unable to reconcile the freedom of thought from his inability and responsibility - the inability to truly think for himself and the responsibility of dealing with the ramifications of the actions he walked so blindly into.

The story begins with an ambiguous description of Ziegler that could be the description of almost anyone. The resemblance of the main character to a “collective face” suggests the generality of humanity, and further unremarkable details call attention to nothing in particular, which is what Ziegler represents: an amalgamation of all the “honorable qualities” that “delightfully normal” men generally share. (Hesse 36) He goes about his normal life as most people tend to do, weighing decisions and making choices based on what is and what is not accepted by society’s standards, and measuring his achievements against those of his peers, built upon a lifetime of observing and evaluating others’ ambitions. He avoids that which complicates his life of complacency, and when confronted with anything contradictory to his system of firm beliefs, he “shut[s] his eyes in disapproval.” (37) Ziegler is content to live in his sheltered world, for he knows no other place, until the day he ventures out of the sanctity of the “places where he felt secure,” and into the great unknown of an unfamiliar city. (37) So begins his fateful passage, armed only with the most fashionable accouterment; his fancy Sunday suit and watch, of which he was so proud, and his red, polished cane to support him along his exploration.

Without any knowledge of the city he is visiting, he calls upon the inhabitants for advice on what to do and what to see, as “he had not yet found the right companions to accompany him, nor had he joined a club, because he had difficulty making up his mind which one suited him.” (38) Ziegler is unable to choose for himself what activities might interest him, or what social situation would best fit his character, and here it is foretold that his indecisiveness would be his undoing. “It is not good for a man to be alone,” (38) because without anyone else, there is no model on which to base his behavior, and he is doomed to cast his own judgments as to what is considered right, or good. No, it is much easier and desirable to seek others out and inquire of them what should be done, and not leave himself to his own devices in a foreign land.

His final decision to visit the history museum and the zoo, “after careful deliberation,” (38) is fitting, considering his propensity toward things that are already ordered and laid out for him. He is not required to decide what is interesting, or appraise its value. The museum decides for him what is worthy of observation and admiration, “as Ziegler realized from the information printed on the exhibition cases.” (38) It pleases him to discover that science clearly has everything all figured out, and he has much respect for science, insofar as it is working to cure cancer, and possibly death, which is entirely relevant to his personal interests. He does not know much about it or its processes, nor does he care to explore any further than the information provided on the placards, but it is highly regarded and well funded by the government, so therefore , therefore, science is very deserving of his appreciation. (38) He shows his appropriate respect for science, and after pausing for a minute to admire his smart reflection of modernity in a shiny glass display case, he makes a feeble effort at venerating the primitive wood carvings of the past, as paying homage to past achievements is what people are supposed to do. But he can’t help feeling smugly superior to the “naïve” woodcutters. (39) It is then that it all starts to bore him, he is so progressive, and of the essence, and he begins to long for the lunch hour. He checks the time frequently on his elegant gold watch that he unabashedly flashes, before moving on. (39)

While waiting for lunch, he resignedly visits another exhibition to pass the time, but a display of medieval superstitions, witchcraft, and alchemy reclaims his attention, and he is confounded by past beliefs in what he considers to be childish nonsense. (39) He excuses the alchemical items, as they led to more “useful” developments, like the atom bomb for example, but wholly disregards any possible meaning or value the “childish stuff” ascribed to the lives and belief systems of those who had used it in practice. Momentarily distracted by the peculiarity of the exhibit, he neglects to pay heed to a sign prohibiting him from touching the objects. Normally he obeys rules out of fear of punishment, (36) but he finds himself alone in the room, with no one to judge his actions, and he further justifies his behavior by telling himself that “people never read such signs very carefully.” (39) He, therefore, feels he is not acting out of accordance with what any other man would do, rather than acting upon a set of moral principles within himself. He proceeds to pick up a small pill from the shelf, but is interrupted by another museum patron, and suddenly feels ashamed, “for he had definitely read the warning sign that prohibited such things,” (40) and without thinking of anything but the desire to avoid getting caught, he sticks the pill in his pocket and leaves the museum. He does not feel any guilt for essentially stealing; he feels he had no choice but to pocket the pill in order to conceal his indiscretion. And from there, it was just a short step to a simple “childish desire” (40) compelling him to pop it in his mouth, finish his lunch, and head off to the zoo.

Similar to the history museum, the zoo conveniently consolidates for him all of the animal kingdoms in one location for his viewing enjoyment. There is no need to venture into the dangerous and unruly natural world; all the proper animals are there to be observed at his own leisure and safety. But to his horror, the magical pill he ingested has given him the ability to understand the language of the animals, and they are not only indifferent to his fright and confusion, but hostile toward him and his arrogance. “The guy’s still proud!” the ape yells after him, (41) as Ziegler hurriedly moves on from species to species, looking for some semblance of kindness, or at the very least understanding from the animals, and finds none. He only encounters more indifference to him and his plight, which further horrifies him and deepens his anxiety. (42)

He looks desperately to the other humans, but they are occupied with their simple enjoyment of the captive animals and know nothing of his newfound awareness. “He observed the behavior of the numerous visitors at the zoo, trying to locate signs of their dignity, character, nobility, and superiority,” (42) but he does not find these things in his fellow man, because he now realizes they are not there. They are illusions, falsities contrived by all men conniving together to elevate themselves to imagined heights, when in reality, as Ziegler begins to comprehend, they are all “a pretentious, lying, ugly society of creatures who seemed to be a preposterous mixture of different types of beasts.” (42) He is embarrassed by his actions and apologetic for having condescended to the animals, when in fact humans are the unknowing beasts; no better than animals in cages. They are perfectly capable and free to open their cages, but too afraid to venture out of their self-imposed prisons, or worse, unaware they exist.

He is newly aware of the vastness of the universe, to which he had so long shut his eyes and his mind, and he is terrified by the endless possibilities of not only the choices he must make but situations that are thrust upon him over which he has no control. He alone must act and take responsibility for those actions in a universe that cares nothing for him. In the context of freedom, we now see his quality of character. He understands now that he is condemned forever to freedom of choice, and he alone must assign meaning and value to his life, with no help from above or below, or any point in between. He can now clearly see the “collective face,” turned forever upward, emulating always that which it could never be or never know, and it terrifies him because the face is his, and all of ours.

In wild desperation, Ziegler strips himself of all that separates him from the animals and distinguishes him as a unique human individual. He rips off his fancy Sunday suit, tie, gloves, and boots, because they have all lost their meaning, and are no longer of any use to him. He finally throws away his red, polished cane, which had been, up until his realization, a sign of his distinction and social standing, but served as a bolster in his life. Now fully on his own, without a crutch to support and guide him, or clothing to shield his nakedness and distinguish him from the rest of the beasts, he is unable to bear the strain of living his life, which he relied so long on other people and things to do for him. He breaks down sobbing by the animal cages, and is, for once, noticed. He is an out of the ordinary spectacle on appalling display, deemed insane and cast out by a society that made him who he is. “His loss is our loss,” (37) because Ziegler is all of us.

Work Cited

Hesse, Hermann. “A Man by the Name of Ziegler.” The Fairy Tales of Hermann Hesse. Trans. Jack Zipes. New York: Bantam. 1995. 36-42. Print.