Freedom and Possibility in Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man

Two answers to the indeterminate position of black Americans contend within the narrator of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. Without minimizing their specific plight, it seems that the situation of black Americans in the 1950's is a microcosm of the human condition. The struggle of one black man to find his identity, to ascribe meaning to his life, and to produce social change is a model of subjective man's attempt to signify himself and order his life in a chaotic, objective universe. The two ideas repeatedly assert themselves as formally organized models of social responsibility and social equality. The characters of Clifton and Rinehart correspond loosely to the ideas as the concepts of freedom and possibility. In Creative Revolt: A Study of Wright, Ellison, and Dostoevsky, author Michael F. Lynch notes that "Ellison uses the word 'responsibility' quite frequently in Invisible Man, stressing it as the corollary of possibility and freedom" (171.) The models of social equality and social responsibility failed as ideological means to the end of a changed society. They were ineffective because they were not grounded in personal responsibility, which cannot exist unless the heaviness of freedom and the lightness of possibility are equally acknowledged, as demonstrated in the cases of Clifton and Rinehart. Although personal responsibility is not formally structured in the novel, it emerges in Ellison's conclusion as the only morally viable option for the narrator. When freedom and possibility are dually employed, they will produce a responsible individual, and many responsible people will potentially result in an equal and responsible society.

Tod Clifton exercised freedom by releasing himself from the struggle for significance. Either he failed to recognize the infinite possibilities available to him, or, like the narrator, found them "too vast and confusing to contemplate" (Ellison 499) and retreated from the capacious sprawl of their landscape. He did succeed in ascribing significance to his life by plunging outside of history, for only by stepping outside of history's dominant narrative can one's story be told. As Clifton became conscious of the Brotherhood's duplicity, he understood that their effort toward racial integration and social equality was both irrational and a means to their personal end. Betrayed and helpless, he also eschewed each definition of social responsibility expected by Ras and the cop. The only remaining choice was to assume personal responsibility for his life. This concession resulted in a freedom that generated even greater anxiety. The Sambo doll fiasco was bred out of Clifton's discomfort and need to create meaning. Note the narrator's incredulous reaction: "Why had he picked that way to earn a quarter? Why not sell apples or song sheets, or shine shoes?" (Ellison 434-435) The narrator assumes that Clifton's objective was to earn money. He has not yet comprehended that the manipulation of Sambo's strings and its farcical dance demonstrated the absurdity of Clifton's life, and by extension, the lives of all men. In the context of life's absurdity, the peddling of this offensive item was just as legitimate as selling produce or shining shoes. Conversely, any occupation that is expected to impart significance, whether selling apples or saving lives, is as absurd as selling the Sambo doll. He still believes in the Brotherhood's ability to offer meaning: "But he knew that only in the Brotherhood could we make ourselves known, could we avoid being empty Sambo dolls...Why should he choose to disarm himself, give up his voice and leave the only organization offering him a chance to 'define' himself?" (Ellison 434, 438) Clifton's suicide, however heroic and logical within an existential framework, ultimately will fail to produce positive social change. "Everyone of us makes the absolute by breathing, by eating by sleeping or by behaving in any fashion whatsoever" (Sartre 869.) "The life of a man is worth the sale of a two bit paper doll," says the narrator. This is an amplification, not a reduction, of life's value. "The life...is worth." On one hand, it is worth it to live and to die, only to have chosen to sell a paper doll in defiance of the law that oppresses you and of the ideologue that betrays you. On the other hand, if all men followed Clifton's example, humanity would snuff itself out.

Rinehart's life is likewise absurd. We are not acquainted with him intimately in the novel; we are only informed of what he did. But if existence precedes essence, then the external identities he constructs are all we really need to know. He answers the meaninglessness with the formation of as many identities as possible. It is incomprehensible that a man is known and respected for his carnal and illicit activities as he is for his religious leadership. But Rinehart is merely fleshing out all of the possibilities. At first glance he is a man fully embracing freedom, and initially, "the Invisible Man sees him as a symbol of possibility itself and as a man who somewhat heroically accepts the complexities and challenges of individual, existential freedom" (Lynch 183). Rinehart fascinates the narrator, who harbors both admiration and repulsion for Rinehart's choices. We get no sense, however, that Rinehart experiences the dread caused by freedom. His rejoinder to life's absurdity pertains only to himself, and he fails to consider the consequences of his actions when applied to all of humanity. Nothing in the novel suggests that Rinehart is ever held accountable for the contradictions of his livelihood, and there is nothing to indicate that he feels any sort of responsibility. To produce change, one must at least believe in and be committed to the significance of their action. Jean-Paul Sartre, in Existentialism and Humanism, writes extensively of the connection between our individual action and our responsibility to all men. "Of all the actions a man may take in order to create himself as he wills to be, there is not one which is not creative, at the same time, of an image of man such as he believes he ought to be. To choose between this or that is at the same time to affirm the value of that which is chosen" (835). Rinehart appears to assume all of those identities only because he can, not because he believes in their truth or morality. He does not achieve absolute personal responsibility because he abuses his freedom and does not accept its full implications. Rinehart is indeed a symbol of possibility, and perhaps the contradictions inherent within his multiple identities merely demonstrate the absurdity of existence. Yet, in his conclusion, the narrator plays with the idea that individual action does carry universal consequence,, that "we, through no fault of our own, were linked to all the others in the loud, clamoring semi-visible world..." (Ellison 574)

At the conclusion of Invisible Man, the narrator is less certain about what he wants than ever before. It is clear that he has finished trying to interpret history, to influence the present, or to shape the future on a large scale. "I'll leave such decisions to Jack and his ilk while I try belatedly to study the lesson of my own life" (Ellison 572.) This is the first hint that he is edging toward personal responsibility. He doesn't' know what he will do a day or a week or a year from now, but he does decide to emerge from his cellar, for he realizes "He needs the world above as the natural element of his freedom, as the context in which he can be responsible to others, as the only place where he can fulfill himself through loving" (Lynch 184.) This decision is significant in and of itself; it is a single act, just as in Clifton's last action: "only the plunge was recorded, and that was the only important thing" (Ellison 447). In the end, he has accepted that his world is "one of infinite possibilities," but that when one steps "outside the narrow borders of what men call reality...you step into chaos" (576). He ultimately rejects both "the freedom of a Rinehart," that brand of freedom which does not choose for oneself as if choosing for all men, and "the freedom not to run" (575) as Clifton did. He states that "Life is to be lived, not controlled, and humanity is won by continuing to play in the face of certain defeat" (577). His desire is that everyone would "stop running and love one another," indicating that if individuals made the choice to love individuals, it would provide a strong base for society to change.

Works Cited

Ellison, Ralph. Invisible Man. New York: Vintage International, 1980.

Lynch, Michael F. Creative Revolt: A Study of Wright, Ellison, and Dostoevsky. New York: Peter Lang, 1990.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. "Choice in a World without God." The Modern Tradition: Backgrounds of Modern Literature. eds. Richard Ellman and Charles Feidelson, Jr. New York: Oxford University Press, 1965.