I freaking loved this book and I poured blood, sweat and tears into the essay that I wrote for English class about it. This was a culmination of reading and re-reading the book, a weekend of researching and planning, and a grand total of twelve hours writing and editing the thing. This essay, at nine and a half pages, was meant to be my final masterpiece of high school English class. It still isn't what it could be, it could still use some editing, but it did get my A+, so. Please enjoy.
Moral Compasses in Catch-22
There
is no time more chaotic or more confusing than during a time of war. World War
II is, perhaps, the best example of this. It was a time when men committed
atrocious acts which would not have been believed possible at any other point
in the past. The very nature of mankind was questioned. This is not only due to
the genocidal crimes of the German government, but also due to some of the
means by which the opposing forces gained power. This is an indication that
people’s morality gets confused, skewed, and sometimes outright abandoned
during a time of war. It is not uncommon to see those of higher rankings in the
army to dismiss their subordinates as nothing more than pawns, instead of
recognizing their humanity and right to live. Military patriotism can become
both murderous and suicidal. This is shown clearly in Joseph Heller’s depiction
of war in the novel Catch-22. The characters of Catch-22 are
often equipped with morality that is either flexible, simplistic, or
non-existent, in an exaggerated portrayal of the nature and effect of war.
However, this is not true in its entirety. In order to navigate the paradoxical
and perplexing world of Catch-22, the reader is in need of a character
to relate to, who will see through more sane and objective eyes, in order to
demonstrate to the reader the true bizarreness of the various scenarios. Two
characters stand out in Heller’s Catch-22 as potentially capable of
rising above the absurdity of the novel: the Chaplain, who should be the moral
compass of the book, and Yossarian, who is. This is because, aside from the
literal war which surrounds them, the characters are fighting a different,
subtler war within the ranks, in which the Chaplain is unequipped to take part.
Therefore, though the Chaplain, by all rights, should be the moral compass of
the novel due to his position, it is actually Yossarian who, despite certain
moral failings, serves as the reader’s moral guide through the novel.
In times of war, being a good person
is not rewarded, but being an obedient person is. As a result, morality becomes
mixed up and hard to define, because people are punished and ridiculed for
doing things which, in any other setting, would be seen as right, while
ordinarily reprehensible acts are either excused or praised outright. This is
shown in Catch-22 through several
minor characters, including Colonel Korn, Aarfy, and Milo Minderbinder. Colonel
Korn is probably the most prominent example of morality becoming a non-issue
during war time – though he is not the highest ranking superior, he is,
essentially, puppeteering the one who controls what happens to the men. This
can be a problem, as he is self-described as “an intelligent person with no
moral character at all,” (Heller 423), meaning he often knowingly makes harmful
decisions, such as forcing Dunbar to needlessly bomb an unsuspecting Italian
village under threat of him going over a more militarized area instead (Heller
327). Aarfy is also a good example Heller produces to show the mixing up of
priorities and morality during wartime. This is most obvious when Aarfy rapes
and murders a serving girl, and when officers come to the hotel, with the
girl’s body lying dead outside, they decide instead to arrest Yossarian for
coming to Rome without a pass (Heller 419). Aarfy’s horrific act is met with no
punishment, showing once again that morality has no place in a time of war,
this time because punishing crimes does not serve the war effort unless it is
directly related to combat. Milo Minderbinder shows the confused morality of
war time, also, when he bombs his own squadron for money. Not only does he
commit the act, but he is also quickly excused for it, further showcasing the
army's skewed morality. Cathcart notes, “Milo had ultimately stilled all
protest in disclosing the huge net profit the syndicate had realised on the
deal with the enemy and convincing everyone that bombing his own men and planes
had therefore been a commendable and very lucrative blow on the side of private
enterprise,” (Heller 213-214). This shows that not only does he get away with
it unscathed, but his actions are retrospectively seen as worthwhile. What the
common thinking appears to be is that morality during war is black and white –
an action either benefits or hinders the country, and if it does not hinder the
country then it is not immoral. Colonel Korn is apathetic to all else except
what will earn him a promotion, and his superiors see no problem with this
because it benefits America in the war. Aarfy commits a horrible crime, but
because it is against a poor Italian serving girl, who the American military
cares nothing for, it does not hinder America in the war, and is therefore not
immoral. Milo outright attacks his fellow Americans, and yet is still not seen
as an immoral or untrustworthy person by his superiors because he is able to
satisfactorily convince them that it ultimately benefitted their country. Each
of these characters are doing things which, in other settings, would be seen as
unjustifiably criminal, but are here either unpunished or praised outright.
What this demonstrates is that war is not only a time where amoral people make
themselves known, but a time when they can easily make themselves seem as
though they are in the right.
Colonel
Cathcart is another character who profits from the rampant corruption during
the war, this time by fighting his competitors within the army. It is necessary
to understand in reading Catch-22 is that there are several different
wars ongoing within the book, not only World War II. World War II only serves
as a setting for the more prevalent conflict in the lives of the characters. In
fact, the characters are fighting far more personal wars. Colonel Catchart is
fighting a “war of prestige” (Russell 1915) against his competitors within the
American military, which becomes a moral issue by itself. That Colonel Cathcart
is fighting a war of prestige is indicated by his priorities when he makes
choices. For instance, when the reader is given a look at Cathcart’s thought
process, it follows as such:
Maybe sixty missions were too
many for the men to fly, Colonel Cathcart reasoned, […] but he then remembered
that forcing his men to fly more missions than everyone else was the most
tangible achievement he had going for him. […] Certainly none of the generals
seemed to object to what he was doing, although as far as he could detect they
weren’t particularly impressed either, which made him suspect that perhaps
sixty combat missions were not nearly enough and that he ought to increase the
number at once to seventy, eighty, a hundred, or even two hundred, three
hundred, or six thousand! (Heller 214)
This shows that
Cathcart, despite his incompetence, is not simply unaware of the danger he is
putting his men in by forcing them to fly an unreasonable amount of missions.
He is entirely aware of the danger, and prioritizes his own sense of
accomplishment and possible promotion above the lives of his men. This is shown
on multiple occasions, perhaps most blatantly when Cathcart says, while
speaking of then-Sergeant Whitcomb’s plan for condolence letters, “I think I’ll
volunteer the group for Avignon again. […] The sooner we get some casualties,
the sooner we can make some progress on this.” (Heller 282). Once more, he is
choosing his own fame and promotion over his men's lives, this time in a
conscious, strategic decision to put them in danger for the sake of his career.
This aligns with what is described as a “war of prestige” in Russell’s essay.
He notes, “Rather than forego the triumph, rather than endure the humiliation,
[those fighting] are willing to inflict upon the world all those disasters […]
and all that exhaustion and impoverishment which it must long continue to
suffer. The willingness to inflict and endure such evils is almost universally
praised; it is called high-spirited, worthy of a great nation, showing fidelity
to ancestral traditions.” (Russell 1915). This is precisely what Cathcart is
hoping for – to be seen as spirited, loyal, and worthy of approval and
promotion, because of his supposedly heroic feats of leadership. The difference
is that Cathcart is not fighting against other nations, but rather, his own
fellow colonels and military men, who he sees as competitors. That this course
of action is even a conceivable way to find prestige in the military
demonstrates how stunted morality is in in the army during the war. His only
goal in making the men fly more missions is promotion, which makes this one of
the biggest moral issues in the book. As military men, they have a duty to
complete a certain number of missions. However, Cathcart is pushing them long
past their obligation, and men are dying when they had a right to be safe,
because he is abusing his power. When Cathcart sees men who do not agree with
his methods, he says he is, "disappointed in them," (Heller 400).
Compare, when Russell says of the mindset around a war of prestige, "The
slightest sign of reasonableness is attributed to fear, and received with shame
on the one side and with derision on the other," (Russell 1915).
Reasonableness means fear, and therefore shame - willingness to fight blindly
is not stupidity, but honourable, or devotion. Cathcart evidently subscribes to
the mentality of a war of prestige. This is arguably the single most immoral of
wars, because it does not benefit anyone but himself, and leads to one of the
most important moral issues in the novel, which is the steadily rising number
of missions the men are forced to fly.
One person who should be above these lapses of
morality is the Chaplain. This is because he is a man of God, and is supposedly
there to guide and support the other men. However, the Chaplain of Catch-22,
rather than being above it all, seems to fall into the same trap as the rest of
the men, in accepting this skewed version of morality as normalcy. Even in
times when he is given a degree of power – the men have faith in him because he
represents God, which they claim to fear – he does not use it to improve
things, despite seeing the wrongness of several of the men’s actions. Rather,
he appears to suffer from a sort of inner paralysis for much of the novel. This
is shown when the Chaplain speaks to Colonel Cathcart, finally saying that the
men in the squadron are upset with the number of missions they are being forced
to fly. This is an important moral issue, as Cathcart is putting men’s lives at
stake when it is not necessary for them to be, and he arguably does not have
the right to do so. The passage which follows is as such:
The
colonel was silent. The chaplain’s face reddened to the roots of his sandy hair
as he waited. The colonel kept him squirming a long time with a fixed,
uninterested look devoid of all emotion.
“Tell
them there’s a war going on,” he advised finally in a flat voice.
“Thank
you, sir, I will,” the chaplain replied in a flood of gratitude because the
colonel had finally said something. (Heller 196)
The
Chaplain, seeing something amiss with the situation, has briefly tried to remedy
it, but ultimately changes nothing. He does not push the issue, even though he
has the right to. Instead of being discontented with the colonel’s decision, he
is relieved that the confrontation is over. There is an added dimension of
ineffectiveness because the Chaplain does have influence as a man of God, and
judging from Cathcart’s interactions with the Chaplain earlier in the
conversation, Cathcart does believe in something like holy retribution. This is
shown when, in response to a remark from the Chaplain, he fearfully demands,
“You mean that God might even decide to punish me by giving us a looser
bomb pattern?” (Heller 195). Cathcart, one way or another, fears God, giving
the Chaplain potential influence over his decisions. However, though the Chaplain
recognizes that the situation the men are in is unjust, he is too concerned
with his own fear of Colonel Cathcart to enact any change. He considers his
obligation complete simply by gathering enough courage to bring the issue to
Cathcart’s attention. The Chaplain shows a degree of moral awareness – perhaps
more than almost any other character in the novel, save Yossarian – but by not
putting his thoughts into action, he has shown a lack of moral strength. Kidder
notes, “In defining moments of our lives . . . values count for little without
the willingness to put them into practice. Without moral courage, our brightest
virtues rust from lack of use.” (Kidder 4). This is especially true of a
character like the Chaplain, who, until the ending, becomes increasingly
absorbed into the insanity of the novel and unable to change anything,
culminating in the interrogation about his connection to Washington Irving.
This is demonstrated when he is “formally accuse[d] […] of being Washington
Irving” and, rather than pointing out the ridiculousness of this so-called
crime, the Chaplain tensely pleads innocent (Heller 386). At this point in the
novel, he is as much part of the problem as any other character, because he is
not trying to break the cycle. His values – for example, rationality – have
become lost in the absurdity of the situation, and only because he was too
petrified to take any proactive action. In fact, the Chaplain appears to be
caught in a Catch-22 of his own: if he were to attempt to make change, it would
likely be against his own morality, such as manipulating the incompetent
Cathcart by means of his position. He does not do that, because he sees it as
immoral. However, by not doing something of the sort, he is immoral by
neutrality, by simply allowing bad things to happen though he could have
stopped it. He is trapped in yet another circular dilemma – he is immoral no
matter what course of action, or lack thereof, he chooses to take. The Chaplain
is not only evidence, but the personification of the stagnation of morality
during the war. He represents traditional, ordinary morality. This does not fit
in times of war, where honour is gained by killing more people and shame by
refusing to do so, and this is represented by the Chaplain's paralysis. This, perhaps,
is not necessarily his fault, but his unwillingness to take action, or even be
more aggressive with issues diplomatically, makes him ultimately ineffective.
For this reason, it is impossible for him to be the moral compass of the novel.
With that established, there is only
one other character who can possibly be the moral compass of the novel, and
that is Yossarian. This can be difficult to believe, because Yossarian is, at
first glance, quite an immoral person. Various times in the novel he is
dishonest, violent, and lecherous. He is not above doing things that are
harmful to others. In other, less bizarre circumstances, this would soundly
place him as an immoral person. In the world of Catch-22, though, this only makes him like the other men. In fact,
he is one of the more functional men in his squadron, when compared with the
dishonesty of Milo, the violence of Chief White Halfoat, or the lechery of
Hungry Joe. Though he is not always justified in his lapses and vices, it is
usually fair to say that they happen for understandable reasons. For instance,
Yossarian is dishonest to save himself from dying, such as when he gives the
squadron food poisoning, or when he moves the bomb line during the Great Siege
of Bologna. Conversely, Milo is dishonest to save himself from losing money,
such as when he attempts to feed the squadron raw cotton, or when he conducts
transactions in English specifically so that his business partners will not
understand him. Yossarian is violent in circumstances where he is either
outraged or scared, such as when the younger men were setting off machine guns
and Yossarian thought they were being bombed again and he punched Nately
(Heller 361), or when McWatt took an unnecessary risk while flying and
Yossarian nearly strangled him (Heller 333). In contrast, characters such as
Chief White Halfoat are violent for no justifiable reason whatsoever, which is
exemplified when Chief White Halfoat threatens to cut Captain Flume’s throat.
When asked why, he responds, “Why not?” (Heller 56). And finally, though
Yossarian is admittedly lewd at times, he is never dishonest with his partners,
and rarely pursues them without consent. This is in contrast with Hungry Joe,
who uses his status as a photographer to get women to pose in sexual positions
for him, despite the fact that he does not use these photos for his work. In
short, Yossarian is certainly not the perfect model of morality. However, this
compromised morality is arguably the result of Yossarian’s environment. As
previously stated, in times of war, morality becomes confused and skewed, as
demonstrated by the success of Colonel Korn, Aarfy, and Milo, and the undoing
of the Chaplain. Fitting with this, Yossarian is not perfectly virtuous. It is
evident from the circumstances in which these actions occur, though, that they
are rarely for perverse purposes, and that Yossarian has managed to maintain a
set of principles through the war in a way that the other men have not.
It is this which makes Yossarian the
moral compass – not that he is a perfectly virtuous person, as Heller clearly
finds something like that impossible in a time of war, but that he has kept his
principles even when all of them are being compromised. There are several times
when Yossarian shows a care for things that no other man does, even if his care
for things is unorthodox. For instance, he responds to the immorality of Milo’s
deal with the enemy, in which he literally places a price on life, by keeping
Mudd’s suitcase in his tent, and referring to him as, “the dead man in my tent”
so as not to forget what happened to him. He responds to Cathcart signing the
squadron up for dangerous missions by attempting to save his, and others’,
lives – in the food poisoning, ripping out the intercom, and moving the bomb
line during Bologna. Granted, this is largely to save his own life, but even
this, a principle of self-preservation, seems to have escaped the rest of the
men. However, because he maintains this principle – or, perhaps, regains it,
through the death of Snowden – he is able to maintain his other principles as
well. It is he who is furious at Milo for prioritizing monetary gain over human
life, while everyone else seems to excuse him for it. This is shown during a
conversation between Yossarian and Milo:
“If
I can persuade the Germans to pay me a thousand dollars for every plane they
shoot down, why shouldn’t I take it?”
“Because you’re dealing with the
enemy, that’s why. […] People are dying. Look around you, for Christ’s sake!”
Milo shook his head with weary
forbearance. “[…] Don’t you understand that I have to respect the sanctity of
my contract with Germany? Can’t you see it from my point of view?”
“No,” Yossarian rebuffed him harshly.
(Heller 256)
It
is evident that Yossarian is not so willing to forgive Milo for rationalizing
his part in losing human life, which shows a level of moral awareness that the
others do not have. This, added to the fact that Yossarian actually continues to
push the issue with Milo even after this conversation – such as when the two
are speaking in the chestnut tree during Snowden’s funeral – also shows a level
of moral strength which the Chaplain, the only other character with the same
level of awareness, fails to demonstrate. In fact, Yossarian is so principled
that it is largely this which makes others think he is insane. A conversation
with a psychologist is as follows:
“You
have deep-seated survival anxieties. And you don’t like bigots, bullies, snobs,
or hypocrites. […] You’re antagonistic to the idea of being robbed, exploited,
degraded, humiliated or deceived. Misery depresses you. Ignorance depresses
you. Persecution depresses you. Violence depresses you. Slums depress you.
Greed depresses you. Crime depresses you. Corruption depresses you. You know,
it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re a manic-depressive!”
[…]
“I agree with all you’ve said.”
“Then you admit you’re crazy, don’t
you?”
“Crazy?” Yossarian was shocked.
“What are you talking about? Why am I crazy?” (Heller 303)
It
is a near perfect representation of environment Yossarian inhabits. He is
considered crazy for hating things which, in any other circumstances, would be
seen as significant problems. However, in the war, and in the army, they are
merely a part of life, and it is therefore impractical for Yossarian to be
depressed by them. Yossarian’s indignation at being called crazy shows that he
still clings tightly to those principles grounding him to a world outside the
war. This is what sets Yossarian apart from the rest of the men in the squadron
– he is still seeing things through the eyes of someone who is not at war, even
though he is. He has not developed – or, perhaps, has lost – the ability to
rationalize killing and putting his life in danger, because he recognizes that
he is no longer doing so for his country, but for Cathcart’s reputation. He
even remarks in his conversation with Cathcart and Korn, “What have you […] got
to do with my country? You’re not the same.” (Heller 423) In essence, where
Cathcart is fighting a war of prestige, Yossarian is now fighting a one-man war
of self-defence, but rather than against other nations, it is against his
superiors. He is aware that, even if his superiors are not actively trying to
kill him, they are trying to put him in a situation where someone else will,
and his knowing this culminates in his final conflict with his superiors in which
he refuses to fly any more missions at all. This is not a stance borne of
cowardice, but rather of moral courage. His principles are being challenged –
he is seeing others and himself put in danger for no reason but to promote
someone’s career, and he has seen many of his friends die because of this – and
he responds to this by defying orders outright. His actions demonstrate the
desire to make a change in the system, and even by simply doing this, change
does begin. Many other men, including Appleby and Havermeyer, tell him they
hope he succeeds. He has given them hope that there is a way to survive the war
despite their apathetic superiors. Yossarian is now, essentially, doing the
Chaplain’s job. He is reminding the colonels of their moral obligations, and he
is providing the other men with hope and guidance. He is doing what no other
character in the book has had the conviction to do. He is also the only
character in the book who manages to avoid being absorbed into his chaotic
environment, and escape the cycle of Catch-22, by deserting at the end of the
book. His principled reasons for escaping the war, as well as his surprising
clarity of mind, make Yossarian the reader’s guide and moral compass through
the novel.
Yossarian is the first to break the
cycle on a matter of principle, notably, after he sees it cause real, tangible
harm: namely, flushing the Italian girls out of their home in Rome solely on
the nonsensical basis of Catch-22. For Yossarian, this evening in Rome provides
a critical revelation, and there is a direct connection between his decision to
desert and witnessing the horrors of inhumane and immoral treatment of people
that night. It is not that it has only become unacceptable on that night, but
that Yossarian, in making his stand, has finally become aware enough to
recognize it for what it is. He has realized, as Heller wants us to realize,
that general morality has become skewed, confused, and stagnant. He also
recognizes that Cathcart’s raising of the missions is not only an issue of
prestige and rank, but an issue of morality, as many men died when they did not
even have to put themselves in danger, but were forced to by the colonel.
Cathcart making the men fly more missions is one of the biggest moral issues in
the book - does the colonel have the right to risk and sacrifice other men's
lives simply by virtue of being higher ranking than them, even after they have
done their duty? A moral character would give answer, "No," and two
have the capacity to do so, but only one does: Yossarian. The Chaplain, could,
but becomes paralyzed, because he represents traditional morality, which is
ineffective here. Instead, we are in need of a moral compass like Yossarian,
who is not perfectly virtuous, but who is clear-eyed and courageous enough to
take action against an unjust situation, thus creating change, and in a way,
doing the Chaplain’s job. Yossarian accomplishes two things in the novel which
no other character manages – he maintains his principles even through the
absurdity of his situation, and he acts on them accordingly. The Chaplain only
achieves half of this objective – he maintains his principles, but because he
does not act, it is as though he does not have them at all, and eventually
finds himself as consumed by the absurdity of Catch-22 as everyone else. Only in the conclusion of the novel does
the Chaplain ever resolve himself to make change, and this is after Yossarian,
as the moral compass, has inspired him to do so. Yossarian sees the world of Catch-22 not through the eyes of a
soldier, but through the eyes of a man. This is what makes him different from
the others, and what makes him the reader’s guide and moral compass in the
absurd and depraved world of Heller’s Catch-22.
Endnotes
Gould,
Robert. "Are Pacifists Cowards?" The Acorn. N.p., 2010.
Web. 10 June 2016.
Heller,
Joseph. Catch-22. New York: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2004.
Print.
Kidder, Rushworth. Moral Courage. New York: Harper Collins,
2005.
Russell,
Bertrand. "The Ethics of War." International Journal of
Ethics 25.2 (1915): n. pag. Web. 10 June 2016.
