The Girl Who Was on Fire (9 page)

A lovely summation of just what other people think about Katniss appears in
Mockingjay
right after she has failed miserably while rehearsing a scripted propo. Much to her chagrin,
Haymitch takes control of the situation and asks the group gathered in Command exactly when Katniss during the Games made them “
feel
something real” (
Mockingjay
). The answers come, and with every memory we, if not yet Katniss, are assured she is neither a cold-hearted killer nor incapable of love. It’s her acting that is pathetic, not the state of her heart.

Because Katniss has been so hurt in the past, she has built a barrier around her heart. Or maybe, in the language of these Games, she has become ensnared by pain. She is defensive. She cannot believe people would love her—until in desperate circumstances she has no choice but to see that they do. Not just her closest acquaintances and friends, but strangers, like the injured in the hospital in District 8 who, even maimed or dying, recognize her face and reach for her, joyful that she is alive to carry on the cause—everyone who has been inspired by her fiery determination to right horrendous wrongs.

Ultimately Katniss is able to admit that at times she has acted from the part of her that is Snow’s—and perhaps Coin’s—equal. Her unerring instinct for survival has made her behave in ways her better self isn’t proud of. But ultimately, too, she is able to make peace with her role. By seeing and embracing who she truly is, good and bad, she is able to see through one of the Capitol’s greatest illusions: that she is responsible for the rebellion, rather than merely the means by which they were overthrown.

Katniss discovers that, even after all she has been through and all she has lost, she is still capable of love. That Snow and the evils of the Capitol have not stolen the possibility of new beginnings, or of having children, for whom the Games will be old history. In the end, the smoke clears and the mirror reflects only the truth—only what is real.

ELIZABETH M. REES
is a writer and visual artist living in Greenwich Village in New York City. She has published numerous young adult books, including
The Wedding
, a novel set in fifteenth century Bruges featuring the painter Jan Van Eyck. She is currently working on a series of short stories about the afterlife and is continuing to weave a tale of an often elusive fat fairy named Maeve.

 

 

The power in Panem all seems to lie with the Capitol—or more precisely, with President Snow and his government. In the Hunger Games, the same is true of the Gamemakers. After all, they engineer the action: they decide not only what will happen to the tributes, but also what the people at home will see. As the events of the Hunger Games series show, however, the idea that the engineers are all-powerful is an illusion. Those watching at home, and those (like Katniss) being watched, have power too. Lili Wilkinson looks at the delicate balance between these three groups and at how even a small shift in power can mean change on a massive scale.

—Katniss Everdeen,
Catching Fire

 

 

A
few hundred years ago, if you did something wrong you were physically punished—beaten or even hanged, usually in front of a crowd. The whole point of this was to warn the people watching—if you do something bad, this could happen to you. Except it didn’t quite work. Because if you’re watching a starving thirteen-year-old girl being flogged for stealing a loaf of bread, you’re not thinking about what a terrible person she is, and how you’d better not ever do anything like that. You’re thinking,
That poor girl. She only wanted something to eat
. And the people who are doing the punishing don’t want you to feel sorry for her.

So in the nineteenth century things changed. Instead of physically hurting criminals, we started to put them in prison. And the thing about prison is, you’re always being watched, by guards and (nowadays) security cameras. Even if there isn’t actually anyone watching you at that second, there
might
be, and you’ve got no way of knowing. Sound familiar? It should, because this doesn’t just happen in prisons. It also happens in schools, hospitals, factories—even walking down the street, chances are you’re being watched by a surveillance camera.

Are you starting to feel a bit creeped out?

Surveillance is at the heart of the Hunger Games, and the Hunger Games trilogy. But in addition to using surveillance for the sake of safety and control, the Games are surveillance for the sake of
entertainment
. The watchers aren’t guards or lawmakers,
they’re just everyday viewers, at home in their living rooms. And there is a third group, as well—the Gamemakers, the people behind the camera, the people who engineer and shape what the viewers see. Each of these groups—the Watched, the Watchers, and the Engineers—has a little power of its own. But what happens when one group has too much control?

Next time you leave the house, think about who might be watching you. Do you pass a traffic camera? Do the shops you go to have security cameras? Is there a camera on board your train or bus? What about in your school? The cafes and restaurants where you eat? Street corners? Subways? And who is on the other side of that camera? A private security guard? The police? The government? How can you tell?

Surveillance changes the way we behave. When you eat a meal in a busy restaurant, why don’t you just walk out without paying? It’s likely nobody would even notice, let alone try and stop you. So why don’t you do it? Well, firstly, you wouldn’t because you know that it would be unfair to the chef who cooked your meal, and the waiters who served you. But
really
the reason is because you’re afraid someone’s watching, and you might get caught. And it’s this fear that explains the existence of security cameras.

There are over a million security cameras in London, which is more than one camera for every seven people living there. In 2008, a Metropolitan Police report found that only one crime was solved per thousand cameras, and surveillance has uncovered no acts of terrorism. Security cameras don’t
solve
crime—instead they are there as a warning, to try and stop people from committing crimes in the first place, because
you never know who
might be watching
. Similarly, not letting you take your water bottle on a plane isn’t a measure to catch terrorists—it’s to make you (and hopefully potential wrongdoers) afraid. Someone
might
be watching you, so you’d better behave, or else there’ll be consequences.

This idea that you’re always being watched is what makes the Hunger Games so powerful. Katniss and the other tributes know that at any time they could be on television, their deeds and actions being transmitted across Panem, into the homes of strangers, friends, family, and, most importantly, the people who run the Games. So Katniss knows that every single thing she does will affect people everywhere—it might result in Gale’s heart being broken, or cause her family shame, or worse, her loved ones may be tortured or killed.

The watching is completely one-way in
The Hunger Games
. On her first night in the arena, Katniss looks up to the sky and sees the faces of each dead tribute, but there is no live footage:

She is being observed by every citizen in Panem, but she can’t look back into their living rooms and see who’s watching. She can’t even see what the other tributes are doing. Although everyone can see her, Katniss is completely alone. But she knows she’s being watched, and who the Watchers are. And she knows how to influence them.

The tributes are always aware of the cameras, even if they can’t see them. After Katniss overhears Peeta with the career
tributes on the first night of the Games, she understands that she can create drama by revealing her presence to the cameras. She knows she’s guaranteed a close-up:

Katniss plays up to the camera, stepping into the light, pausing, cocking her head and giving a knowing smile. She realizes displaying her hunting skills will make her attractive to sponsors. And when she starts to weaken, an injured leg possibly spelling her doom, Katniss is sure the cameras are on her face, meaning that she can’t show her pain or fear: “Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does” (
The Hunger Games
). At first, Katniss is just trying to play the game—to appeal to sponsors who can help her survive. But then things start to change. Katniss starts to use her position, her visibility, as a message. She decorates Rue’s body with flowers as a protest against the unrelenting violence of the Games.

Then come the berries. Katniss realizes that she has the power to save both herself and Peeta. She threatens the Capitol and the Gamemakers with an Engineer’s disaster—a reality TV show with no ending. No winner. No Victory Tour. No interviews. The ultimate letdown. And so the Gamemakers relent, and let them both live.

Katniss’ power—the power of the Watched—lies in her ability to influence the Watchers. She can give them what they want—heroic deeds, drama, romance. And once she is a favorite of the Watchers, she has a kind of safety from the ruthless Engineers. Because the Engineers know that if the viewers are
left unhappy—if there is an unsatisfying ending to the Hunger Games—the whispers of rebellion among the Watchers might grow to shouts.

The Hunger Games trilogy was inspired by the Ancient Greek story of Theseus and the Minotaur. In Theseus’ story, selected tributes are sent from Athens to a labyrinth, where a hungry monster waits to devour them. The families and friends of the tributes must say farewell to them when they leave—knowing they’ll never see their loved ones again.

The Hunger Games
is different. In the Hunger Games, the hungry beast isn’t a real monster; instead it’s the Watchers—the thousands of citizens watching at home. In the Hunger Games, the families and friends
will
see their loved ones again—on television, every night, at prime time.

The Athenian people in the Greek myth were terrified of their children being sent to their deaths, but although the Districts dread the reaping, all of Panem tunes in to watch the Hunger Games as eagerly as we tune in to watch
Survivor
or
American Idol
. Why do they watch it? Do they really enjoy seeing their children murder each other? Why don’t they refuse to watch? What would happen if every citizen in Panem just turned off the television?

But nobody does. The viewers at home are just as bloodthirsty and eager for drama as we are when watching an episode of
The Bachelorette
or
The Amazing Race
. What does that say about the people of Panem? What does it say about the way they and their society are controlled? And what does it say about us?

Some of our most popular TV shows are a bit like the Hunger
Games. Sure, nobody dies on our reality TV shows. But we still watch people suffer. We watch them endure physical and mental challenges on
Survivor
, subject them to isolation on
Big Brother
, tell them their dreams will never come true on
Idol
, and break their hearts on
The Bachelorette
. Reality TV is all about putting people in difficult situations and watching how they react. Some people come out stronger, richer, and healthier, facing a lifetime of success. Others are voted off the island early on, their failure broadcast all over the world. How many steps are there, between our own TV shows and the Hunger Games?

What about
Temptation Island
, a TV show that tries to pressure couples into cheating on one another? Or
Shattered
, a UK show where contestants must go without sleep for seven days? Or
Extreme Makeover
, where people are permanently, surgically altered to conform to some kind of Hollywood ideal of beauty? And what about the violence of
Ultimate Fighter
,
Celebrity Boxing
, and
Bad Girls Club
? Suddenly the Hunger Games isn’t looking quite as science fictiony as it was before, is it?

Just like real-life TV producers, the Gamemakers must keep the Watchers entertained. And the Watchers are so entranced by Katniss’ story—so won over by her fierce bravery and kind heart—that if she vanishes from their screens, they might do the unthinkable. They might switch off.