Humankind Cannot Bear Very Much Reality.

SNK 137: To see the world in a grain of sand

A story that traverses 2000 years of history, across the vast expanse of time and space, war and empire, great despair and fragmented hope, legends of gods and devils.

SNK features immense scales that can evoke sheer awe, from its temporal and thematic scope to its pure visual spectacle, all the way to the world’s destruction.

And yet in the midst of the breathtaking, terrifying magnitude of the end of the world, it has culminated here, in the memory contained within a single leaf minuscule as a grain of sand against the death marching across seas and continents.

A leaf that contains a childhood memory utterly insignificant, utterly meaningless in the futile battle against geopolitical conflict, human nature, the curse of Ymir that becomes fate itself.

Yet it is also a memory that means everything. 

The fate of the entire world, contained within a single leaf half-buried in the eternal sands transcending time and death.

“The reason I was born…” was not to save the world, or to be a hero; the reason was to simply exist in these moments when one can feels distinctly, ‘I’m here, and I’m glad to be alive.’ Approaching the end of this two thousand year story, Armin’s quiet affirmation captures fundamentally what freedom is, and what it is to want to live in the world.

Arguably without exception, everyone experiences at least once in their life such moments. Even when in the depths of despair, depression, or apathy, still suddenly, if only for one fleeting instant, we feel intensely that maybe it’s okay to be alive when experiencing such trivial things as the sunlight through the trees, a glimpse of the achingly blue sky, or the certainty that we have made a connection with someone through a word, a touch, or a smile. These distinct moments are interspersed as small, flickering lights strung together through the darkness of life’s struggles.

This is Armin’s answer to Zeke’s questions: “You know that to live… means to one day die, does it not?” Where is the freedom in the endless struggle to avoid the punishment of fear and suffering we confront when life’s empty, frantic quest to multiply is threatened? What is the purpose of perpetuating one’s days of suffering without ever knowing if it means anything at all?

Armin’s answer is not convincing or changing Zeke’s mind as such, rather he is merely reminding Zeke of what he has already experienced, of what he already knows, unconsciously: that somehow, there is meaning in feeling the wind against your skin, in the repetition of throwing and catching a baseball back and forth with someone you call family.

Or to be more precise, perhaps there is no logical meaning in these moments at all, but that doesn’t stop these moments from being meaningful. 

“in our bewilderment we see no rule by which to guide our steps day by day; and yet every day we must step somewhere.”

It’s not a perfect answer; perhaps it’s not an answer at all. Yet it is enough to convince us to take another step forward, because unlike logical reasoning or Zeke’s scientific rationalizations, the feeling of life in such trivial moments carries an irrefutable personal certainty of gratitude for being alive.

SNK generally prioritizes the grand over the trivial or strictly ‘relatable’, but we get here something so purely and immediately human, grounded in an intimate, even mundane way that is interwoven with the cosmic realm in which they are having this conversation.

It feels indeed that put upon a simple leaf, of a baseball, is a uniquely cosmic weight, as the weight of everything, all this history and eternity, is resting on this quiet reflection.

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour

- William Blake, “Auguries of Innocence”

Do you believe the full rumbling goes against the theme of “getting kids out of the forest?”

No, because Armin & Co. represent that side of the argument.

Mr Braus says two things: 1) He laments the continuation of the cycle of violence, and 2) He argues that the most important thing is to keep children out of it. Eren acts in reaction to 1), and the 104th act in reaction to 2).

Rather than just having the main character straightforwardly represent the moral message of the series, it’s more interesting to explore the unresolvable contradictions within that moral message - that’s what would have been the case if Eren and the 104th had truly been opposed. Eren would have fought to end the cycle at the cost of children’s lives, and the 104th would have fought to preserve children’s lives even if meant that the cycle will continue.

Of course, Eren’s capability of truly ending the cycle is often brought into question - but this only adds further nuance to the series.

Eren’s Path

I just noticed the parallel between these scenes.

When faced with an outcome as horrible as the Rumbling, most other characters try to think back to a point where they could have gone down a different path or where the trouble originated from. Eren even briefly does this.

But he not only refuses to consider other possibilities, he even rejects the utility of retrospecting in the first place. To Eren, the Rumbling happening is not a problem of the right choice or the circumstances that shaped it, it's just about who he is and his "primitive desire".

So I guess in Eren's mind, the Rumbling was an existential dilemma. So long as he exists he will surely bring ruin to the world, so is it better to never have been born? Or take away his life? He couldn't possibly do so after Historia and Carla's lessons.

So he tried to change the world by facing judgement through death for his actions, or as @jeanandthedreamofhorses said, he tried to use this inherent ‘evil’ to make the world better, by gearing his desires towards their own self destruction.

But it seems to me that a curse, no matter the good brought about by it, remains a curse, 80% percent of humanity is too great a price to pay for the end that was reached, but Eren and the Alliance were at least able to prevent total extinction, and no matter when, Eren was able to temper his desires. So he may have brought about a great amount of suffering, but his final acts contain seeds of good in them.

Eren and his Id: Some Further Observations

Since publishing my meta on the idea of the ‘id’ in SNK, I’ve noticed some more examples of it manifesting throughout the series.

Mikasa

What Eren attributes to Ackerman mind control is really just the nature of Mikasa’s id. She acts without seeming to realise she does so, with vacant eyes in the first panel and confusion in the last. This is just like Eren’s experience in defending Ramzi: not being mentally present in the moment, his id takes over his body like an alien and controlling force.

Keep reading

he’s already great because he was born into this world.

random manga colourings

Thank you :) The praise is probably undeserved though. Eren is the only character I try to really dig deeper into. The series as a whole has way better analysts.

Which snk meta writers would you recommend? And what are your favourite snk metas not written by you? Yours are still amazing, but I've probably read them all a thousand times so I was curious about others.

Honestly I never read as much of other people's meta as I should, and in retrospect that was a mistake. I mostly just wanted to avoid heated discourse, and while seeing a bad take can cause me to see red, it's extremely useful to build on the good ideas of others.

I haven't read their recent stuff but I remember really liking the metas of @metasnkpotato, they clearly know their philosophy. More recently I've found @twilight-paradise88, who I think is probably closer to a 'correct' analysis of the series than any other.

SNK 139.5: Towards the Final Pages with no Final Answers

The final pages of the updated ending are bold, but I think ultimately more evocative than the original preliminary ending.

Even after the intensely polarized reader reception that took issue with the lack of storytelling precision and clarity when it was most needed, SNK chose to end with a decisively ambiguous symbol. In literature, a symbol is something that clearly means something -- but with the most "literary" symbols, their meaning cannot be absolutely defined; any attempted answer as to what a symbol represents has no finality or certainty, and interpretation will remain ever open to debate. A symbol both invites and resists interpretation.

Naturally, the immediate response to the symbolic tree on the final page is to try answering the invitation to the question, "What does it mean?"

One prominent answer I've seen is that it symbolizes the continuation of the cycle of war and violence either because a) of the symbolic parallel to Ymir or b) on a more literal level, that it implies the actual potential revival of new era of Titans. A reasonable interpretation either way, but also, I think, an incomplete one.

The first reason for this is that "the endless cycle of war" was already clearly and powerful represented in the preceding panels:

The cycle of war was already continuing in the decades or centuries before the child arrived at the tree. A culminating image symbolizing the persistence or resurgence of an era of war as the final panel would thus arguably be redundant and unnecessary.

Furthermore, the chapter is entitled "Toward the Tree on That Hill." If the tree were simply a symbol of war, by implication the chapter could equally be called 'toward the endless cycle of war'. But such a relentlessly bleak and tonally flat ending sentiment would be firmly incongruous with the story's recurrent conviction in the equal cruelty and beauty of the world -- a conviction that I believe it has been faithful to all the way to its end.

The Long Defeat

But while on this topic of war, let's linger a moment on the "cruelty" side and the consequence of this wordless construction and subsequent destruction of a city -- the most bold and possibly controversial additional panels that are also my personal favourite additions.

One objection that has emerged against this brief sequence of Paradis' apparent destruction is that it renders the entire story to be "pointless". Eren's 80% Rumbling, Armin's diplomatic peace talks between the remnants of the Allied Nations and Paradis, and before that, the proposal of the 50-year plan and Zeke's euthanasia plan... everything, to the very beginning to the Survey Corps' dreams of some kind of freedom; was it all for nothing? All that striving, that hope, that final promise bestowed upon Armin: was it all a pointless story? Even more radically, is the story suggesting that Eren might as well have continued the Rumbling to 100% of the earth? Was Zeke's euthanasia plan the cruel but correct choice all along? What was the point of rejecting the 50-year plan if that had a greater chance of success at preventing this outcome?

I think Isayama suddenly pulling back to such a long-term view of history to the scale of decades or even centuries into the future calls for a reorientation in attitude towards exactly what kind of story we have been reading. Yes, if the metric is Paradis' survival, maybe it was indeed all "pointless". But that's also to say that, on the broadest scale, SNK is a story about futility, that it is a deliberate representation of the struggle to make one's actions historically meaningful.

In the long view of history, all the events, from Grisha running beyond the wall to see the airships and the first breaking of Wall Maria to Erwin's sacrifices, Paradis' discovery of the outside world, and finally to the Battle of Heaven and Earth, it would all merely be a handful of chapters in the history textbooks of the future. A future in which war and geopolitical conflict will continue even without Titans. That does not mean that all paths to the future are equal -- the 50-year plan would not have put an end to Titans, and Zeke's euthanasia plan distorts utilitarian ethics into just another form of oppression; there are better and worse decisions that lead to more and less degrees of suffering, but no decision can ever be the final one.

The additional panels remind us that in history, there never exists a singular "Final Solution". The reason there are readers who vehemently support Eren to have flattened 100% of the world, and the reason the Paradisians supported the oppressive, authoritarian, proto-fascist Jaegar Faction under Floch and even after the Rumbling, is that because they want to believe that a Final Solution to end conflict exists and will work. They resist the fundamental uncertainty and complexity of the situation, instead preferring a singular, unified, and coherent Answer to Paradis' struggle to survive. I'm reminded of the scholar Erich Auerbach's theorization of why fascism appealed to many people during periods of political and social crisis, change, and uncertainty. Writing in exile after fleeing Nazi Germany, he observed that:

"The temptation to entrust oneself to a sect which solved all problems with a single formula, whose power of suggestion imposed solidarity, and which ostracized everything which would not fit in and submit - this temptation was so great that, with many people, fascism hardly had to employ force when the time came for it to spread through the countries of old European culture." (from Mimesis p. 550)

This acutely describes the Jaegar Faction's rise to power and continued dominance in Paradis. But their promise of unity, of a single formula to wipe out the rest of the world either literally through the Rumbling, or to dominate them with military force, is a false one. Even if Eren had Rumbled 100% of the world instead of 80%, history would still go on. The external threat of the world may have been eliminated, but internal conflict and violence would still continue onward throughout the generations born on top of the blood of the rest of the world. Needless to say, out of all the options, Eren's 80% Rumbling is the very epitome of perpetuating the cycle of violence as it creates tens of thousands of war orphans like Eren once was, and it would justify employing violence for one's own self-interest to an extreme degree. For the generations to come that would valourize Eren as a hero, it would set a dangerous precedent for what degree of destruction is acceptable for self-defence -- nothing short of the attempt to flatten the entire world. It is no surprise that Paradis would meet a violent end when its founding one-party rule of the Jaegar Faction has their roots in such unapologetically bloody foundations.

Neither the 80% Rumbling nor the militaristic, ultra-nationalistic Jaegar faction that come to govern Paradis are glamourized as the "correct" solution to ensuring Paradis' future. (This can also put to rest any accusations of SNK's ending as "fascist" or "imperialist" propaganda, since the island's modern nation that they founded ends in war. All nations must fall eventually, but not all do in such blatant destruction). Importantly, neither is Armin's diplomatic mission naively idealized as that which permanently achieves world peace. No singular or unifying formula can work because reality is complicated. Entrusting oneself to seemingly simple Answers is simply insufficient, even if they are ideals of peaceful negotiation; that method may work given the right conditions, but the world will always eventually complicate its feasibility.

After all in the real world, there's the absurd irony that some in the West had called the First World War "The War to End all Wars". These days, WWI is merely one long chapter in our textbooks just a few pages away from the even longer chapter of the Second World War that is followed by all the rest of the conflicts that have followed since then even with the establishment of diplomatic organizations like the United Nations. In this sense, showing Paradis' eventual downfall is perhaps the only way to end such a series that is so concerned with history, from King Fritz's tribal expansion into empire, the rise and fall of Marleyan ascendency, and finally of the survival and apparent shattering of Paradis.

From its beginning to its end, SNK has poignantly evoked J.R.R. Tolkien's conception of history as The Long Defeat. In one character's words, "together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat". That is to say, "no victory is complete, that evil rises again, and that even victory brings loss".

No heroes, only humans

Eren's desperate, fatalistic resignation to committing the Rumbling, along with the characters' rejection of all the rest of the earlier plans to ensure Paradis a future, are merely the actions of human beings to that began with the need to find not even necessarily a Final Answer, but at least an acceptable and feasible one for the time being. But the characterization of Eren's confusion, childishness, and regret in the final chapter is startlingly real in how it demonstrates how, all along, we have been dealing not with grand heroes, but simply people who have no answers at all. SNK has always been about failures - and often ironic failures; it has always been a story about painful and frequently futile struggle.

People make mistakes, they can be short-sighted, selfish, biased, immature, petty, and irrational, and I think the ending follows through with depicting the consequences of that.

Erwin's self-sacrifice before being able to reach the basement (and his regression to a childhood state in the moments before his death), Kenny's futile chasing after that universal compassion he had seen in Uri, Shadis never being acknowledged by history despite his final heroic action, and so on -- these stories of ironic, futile failures are still meaningful in their mere striving. Eren's ending and Paradis' demise despite Armin's endeavour to ensure them a peaceful future are entirely consistent with this.

SNK certainly follows the shounen trope in which young individuals are bestowed great power and correspondingly great responsibility, and must then reconcile the burden of possessing that greatness on which the fate of the world depends. Yet it is equally defined by its representation of the state that us normal human beings confront everyday: the struggle against the apparent powerlessness to enact any meaningful or lasting change at all. Simultaneously, this helpless state does not exempt us from the responsibility to act in whatever small capacity we are able to resist oppression, ideological extremism, and the perpetuation of violence.

Towards That Symbol

That was a rather long but vital digression about the additional "construction and destruction" pages. To return to the issue of the symbolism in the final panel, here I will turn from seemingly affirming the tree as symbolizing the cycle of violence, towards what I think is the greater complexity of what the tree might "actually" symbolize.

As I've said above, I don't believe that the final chapter title is synonymous with 'toward the endless cycle of war'. In tone, theme, and characterization, SNK has always been defined by the tension between cruelty and beauty, the will to violence and the underlying desire for peace, and the rest of the contradictory impulses that all simultaneously coexist. The end of SNK as a whole commits to a similar lack of closure, ambiguity, and interpretive openness.

So far I have rambled on about only a view of the perpetual "cruelty" of history. Where, then, is the "beauty"?

In short, the "tree = cycle of violence" interpretation is obviously based on how that this tree recalls the original tree in which the spine creature, as the source of the power of the Titans, resided. But it's worth first considering, what exactly is this creature? We seem to get our answer in the chapter that most precisely crystallizes the dual "cruelty and beauty" of the world:

The spine creature might be said to be life itself. Or more specifically, the will of life to perpetuate itself, for no reason at all but for the fleeting moments in which we feel distinctly glad to have existed in the world.

The creature at the source of the Titans, and in extension the Titans themselves, is neither inherently a positive or negative, "good" or "evil", creative or destructive force. It's both and all of those at once. As with any power, the Titans were merely a tool that was put to use to oppressive ends.

So as I now suggest that the tree at the end is symbolically a "Tree of Life", I don't at all mean "life" in the typically celebratory or optimistic sense: rather, I mean it in the ambiguous, ambivalent, uncertain, and complex sense that has been evoked throughout the above discussion of the inevitable continuation of war.

The title "Toward The Tree on That Hill" is derived from its associations with Eren and Mikasa, but more specifically of course, from Armin's affirmation of existence. However, the tree as a symbol of existential affirmation is undercut with the revelation that, despite Armin's diplomatic mediation between the Allied Nations and Paradis, the island nation never escapes war just as no nation in the history of the earth has ever fully escaped war.

The image of Armin running toward that life-affirming tree by the end becomes twisted and complicated, as the image of the anonymous child approaching the Tree of Life evokes both awe at its beauty and grandeur, and a deep dread at the foreboding of its cyclical return to Ymir's tree that signalled the beginning of a bloody era.

And I think that is precisely it: Life is not some idealized, beautiful vision that we always want to run toward; it is also ironic, complicated, and dreadful. It is ambivalent. Like a literary symbol, the meaning of life cannot be pinned down absolutely. The tree therefore becomes itself a symbol of uncertainty, of an open future that is cyclical both in its beauty and war.

As a final observation, it is surely no coincidence that, the small, black, birdlike silhouettes of the war planes destroying the city from the sky is replaced by the similarly small black silhouettes of birds in the final panel.

If the birds represent freedom from war, the irony is that the immediately surrounding land appears to be one completely empty of people save for the exploring child; it is a freedom attained only without people's presence. Yet at the same time, a child from some existing civilization has reached it; perhaps it is freedom that they have reached, perhaps it is something else that they see in the tree. What is it that they were looking for? What does the tree and its history represent for the child, and what does it mean for their future? Alternatively, does the child-in-the-forest imagery negatively recall the warning that the world is one huge forest of predator and prey that we need to protect children from entering?

Rather than providing answers, this tree embodies all of the potential questions, and all of the potential answers. These possibilities will unfold themselves into an uncertain future beyond the chapters of history that Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Zeke, Erwin, and all the rest of the characters were part of and left their mark on; and whatever future this child will witness or create, it will similarly be one of the struggle against futility, as the journey begins anew with each generation in every new era. Neither - or both - hopeful or despairing, the final image of this tree, just like life itself, contains those innumerable irresolvable tensions as it gestures towards all possibilities, both oppressive and free.

“They were just there wherever I looked from the day I was born. Those miserable walls.”

I think this is the most important line we need for understanding Eren. From the moment he was born Eren felt caged no matter what he did and he longed for release.

This desire was unconscious at first, but seeing Armin dream so passionately brought about the realization that Armin was seeing and believing in something that Eren couldn’t, and this brings about the realization in him that he’s restrained/caged from doing something.

He initially believes that this indignation from a sense of being caged is because of the Titans or oppressors but as time goes on and the circumstances change, Eren realises that this is something internal and the fact that it’s something that no one else experiences is one of the sources of his tragedy: he can’t communicate/share this desire.

(There’s probably some symbolism in the fact that Eren confessed his truest desires to a child that didn’t speak the same language)

At first, Eren associated release with the “sight” of the things in Armin’s book. He believed that seeing those things will give him the release and liberty he’s been longing for, though it should be noted that Eren says he doesn’t care what the particular sights *are* just that he sees them so I think he cares much more about the feeling of liberation that those things stand for than the sights themselves.

So I think that even though Eren might say that he’s disappointed that the world wasn’t what was in Armin’s book I think what he’s really sad about is that he didn’t feel liberated by the world beyond the walls, but because he associated those feelings with the sights in Armin’s book he uses them interchangeably(I think this is supported by the fact that Eren still feels caged and empty when actually seeing those sights in 139).

The reason Eren slaughters humanity beyond the walls is because from his perspective, *they* are walls/barriers obstructing his freedom. “That Scenery” is one of the most important motifs with Eren, it’s the liberty that comes with transcending or breaking a wall, but one of the ironies in 131 is that Eren is deluding himself to think that it’s freedom. Eren’s very nature demands that he cannot see beyond the “walls” and this is testified to by Eren looking unfulfilled immediately after the freedom panel and the fact that he still needs Armin’s approval. Besides Isayama deliberately contrasts Eren and Armin by saying that Armin still believes in a world beyond the walls, with a panel of Eren’s eyes closed.

Eren’s tragedy is that of a man born with the inability to look past the repression of life(or you could say he was born with the ability to see restraints everywhere). I think this solves all the contradictions I thought I saw in Eren’s character and addresses the “Problem of being a Slave” that Isayama once brought up.

Before I go there’s one last thing I have to say about the final chapter and this motif, Eren can’t see the dream Armin enjoys and he can’t see the future that lies ahead, but his love for his friend(s) let’s him transcend that nature by putting his hopes in them at the end. He won’t ever be able to see beyond the walls, that’s just how he is, but he can be at peace with the fact that his friends will.

Edit: I made this post mainly because I was tired of people rooting Eren’s actions in trauma or an ideological mistake or lack of development. Eren has developed enough as a protagonist, especially by chapter 100, his “mistakes” in the Final Arc are a result of his nature, I think that’s what Isayama wanted to convey.

since I can upload things right now, I also drew a little ymir jaeger.