Literary Analysis: Empathy as Materialism in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

 This article covers the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? which is available here on Amazon.

By definition, empathy is our ability to share and understand the feelings of one another, yet in the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? By Philip K. Dick, we are confronted with ideas of empathy that come across much more selfish and lacking in the genuine connection implied by our definition of the term. Empathy is addressed in the novel in a number of ways: directly through the religion of Mercerism, through human relationship with androids, and through human relationship with animals--real and electric, as many real species have been eradicated. In the interest of ecology and nature, examining human relationships to animals will be our main focus, especially as it ties to the ways in which humans interact with one another. While mercerism certainly has a personal value to characters within the novel, animals stand out for the literal value--monetarily--that they are given. Animals and their cost come up recurrently, with protagonist Rick Deckard checking their prices almost reflexively and obsessively whenever his attention is turned in that direction. Empathy by our standards is not something to be bought, yet the novel portrays empathy for animals as inseparable from their prices. Beyond the surface, it seems these values are not the price of empathy, but the price of absolving guilt. If one becomes too removed from guilt, purchasing animals becomes an act of true materialism.

Within the novel, a strange set of customs exists around animals, one that unfolds itself over the course of the story: 1. Large enough animals live on roofs to be visible to neighbors, and their desirability correlates with their size and how endangered/exotic the species is; 2. They represent not only wealth but “empathy” through the care required to maintain an animal, yet the novel shows little along the lines of genuine connections or love for these pets despite the necessity of care; and 3. Owning a fake, electric animal is better (to some) than having none at all, though ownership of an electric animal is taboo as well. Each of these points raises questions of empathy for readers. If showing empathy by caring for an animal is the main purpose of animal ownership, why does the species matter--and in particular, why would livestock be more desirable than house pets that one can arguably grow closer with? If showing empathy by caring for an animal is the main purpose, why would anyone obtain an electric animal? Dick explores these questions through Deckard’s thoughts and conversations, as well as other minor characters.

Deckard validates the first point on animal hierarchy in conversation with his neighbor, Barbour, and also through bargaining with the Happy Dog Pet Shop salesman. When Deckard reveals to Barbour that he replaced his old sheep with an electric one following the sheep’s death, Barbour suggests several smaller and more affordable animals: a cat, a mouse, even a cricket (7). Deckard shuts this down with the response, “‘I don’t want a domestic pet. I want what I originally had, a large animal…”’ (7). While Dick further establishes the value of large animals here, he also leaves some room for reader interpretation. One might give Deckard the benefit of the doubt and say he did genuinely care about his sheep and the desire to keep another large animal has sentimental value--or one might say that his dismissal of smaller animals shows a true lack of care. If taking care of any animal counts toward reparations for the species now extinct and the dwindling remainders, it is absurd that Deckard would turn down caring for a “cheap” cat while entertaining the idea of a “thirty thousand dollar” ostrich at the Happy Dog Pet Shop (7, 15). This dichotomy paints Deckard as materialistic--he could have a cat or mouse at any point, but prioritizes his electric animal over real animals that are for some reason unworthy to him. As the novel never offers a solid reason for Deckard to reject these smaller animals, he seems apathetic rather than empathetic, showing a lack of care for lives that are inconsequential to him. While animals are our focus, it is also worth pointing out that this is how Deckard views androids in the first half of the novel. Overall, Deckard lacks the empathy that animal ownership is meant to represent; this lack is part of his characterization. Fittingly, he lacks a real animal to show empathy to as well.

In consideration of the way the novel distances pet owners from their pets, we will steer away from Deckard (as his animal is artificial) and instead turn to the minor characters of Mr. and Mrs. Pilsen, who own(ed) a real cat. The disconnect between people and their pets is represented in Mrs. Pilsen’s conflicting explanation of her husband’s relationship with Horace, the cat. She notes that Mr. Pilsen “loved Horace more than any cat he’s ever had” yet “never got physically close to Horace” and that Mrs. Pilsen herself “took care of all Horace’s personal needs such as his sandbox” (37). The novel has placed a lot of importance on caring for animals, but Mr. Pilsen is as close to truly loving an animal as we approach, and he plays no role in the actual care of the animal--instead, he avoids contact. These minor characters help to flesh out our sense of how others beyond Deckard interact with animals, and the vision it creates is nearly as bleak; there is still some divide between people and their pets, even domesticated ones seem removed from their owners, as represented by Mr. Pilsen’s hesitance to so much as interact with his beloved Horace.

Electric creatures further complicate our understanding of human empathy toward animals. This novel blurs the lines between organic and inorganic living, with androids being nearly as real as humans, save for a few emotional response times that must be tested to pick out. In a sense, caring for the electric animals does offer the same level of superficial empathy in terms of “caring” for them--just with a different set of instructions. Rick essentially explains this point to Barbour: “...I’ve put as much time and attention into caring for it as I did when it was real… You feel the same doing it; you have to keep your eye on it exactly as you did when it was really alive…” (6-7). If we look at this exchange simply as one of care and ignore the looming guilt of animal extinction that calls for such care, then one might argue that there is empathy in taking care of these electric animals: it is still a time, energy, and resource consuming commitment with a creature one can gain an understanding of, only lacking by our definition of empathy in the fact that the electric animal can’t share that understanding with us. This, arguably, is enough to break our illusion of empathy, but it is further broken by the realization that having an electric animal to begin with is a selfish and self centered act. Deckard does not have a fake sheep to gain a level of understanding or patience in caring for it; Deckard has a fake sheep to pretend that he has a real sheep--so others will view him as someone with a real sheep while he personally, privately scorns it. Deckard’s hatred is not hidden from us either: “...within [Deckard] an actual hatred once more manifested itself toward his electric sheep” (20). He has not reached some form of one-sided empathy and understanding toward the electric creature, rather he views it as a burden. Additionally, putting money into buying and maintaining a fake animal rather than the real ones that he is supposed to feel true guilt and empathy for shows quite the opposite, or else one would find themselves too riddled with guilt to put those resources into a fake animal. The selfishness shines through in the way Deckard (and others, based off of the existence of electric animals and shops that provide them) would rather look good for having a bigger, fake animal than show any real care to a living animal of a species that does not impress. Showing off fakeness is more important than a “less impressive” act of genuineness.

Overall, the system of buying and keeping animals within the novel would make more sense if the animals were replaced by cars--something solely material. One might better understand Deckard’s eagerness to save up for a luxury vehicle (rather than an ostrich), and understand his dismissal of a cheap, unreliable car (comparable to a cat or mouse) when the former would impress his neighbors more. One might even object less to Deckard’s shady act of buying a knock-off car that merely looks luxurious--really, all of these options are more palatable than the novel’s use of living creatures. The use of living animals is what forces us to think about their relationship to humans rather than having this be a passive element of the story. What the novel and its characters express as empathy for animals is actually the commodification of them; they are treated as material objects. To reach this point, the characters have already departed from empathy.