The Unofficial Hunger Games Companion

by Lois H. Gresh

  1.

  DUKKHA—All life is suffering. Birth, aging, sickness, separation from what and who you love, not getting what you want, sorrow, pain, grief, despair, death: everything makes you suffer, and everybody everywhere suffers.

  2.

  DUKKHA SAMUDAYA—Suffering is caused by cravings to become (bhava tanha), to get rid of (vibhava tanha), and to have sensual pleasure (kama tanha). Suffering, in short, is caused by our desires.

  3.

  DUKKHA NIRODHA—Suffering ceases when you no longer have desires and cravings.

  4.

  DUKKHA NIRODHA GAMINI PATIPADA MAGGA—The path leading to the cessation of suffering is eightfold and consists of (a) Wisdom (panna): the right view and the right thought; (b) Morality (sila): the right speech, right action, and right livelihood; and (c) Meditation (samadhi): the right effort, right mindfulness, and right contemplation. In short, walking down the moderate middle path of life leads to the end of your suffering.

  Over time, the Buddhist religion grew with one of its main features—asceticism, using hunger to find inner enlightenment.

  OBESITY: THE OPPOSITE OF HUNGER

  Before closing this chapter about hunger and The Hunger Games trilogy, we should briefly mention the opposite problem—obesity. It’s actually possible that someone here and there in Katniss’s world might be obese, either because they have genetic or hormonal problems or because they live in the Capitol and refuse to be bulimic.

  According to the World Health Organization, one of the most significant health problems in developed countries today is obesity. More than 50 percent of adults in the United States, Mexico, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Peru, Russia, England, Finland, and Saudi Arabia are either overweight or obese. Not only do obese people suffer while alive, they are at great risk of dying before their time.

  People who suffer from a genetic disorder called Prader-Willi eat uncontrollably. Without medical help, many die from obesity-related complications by the time they’re thirty years old. Some people are born without the genetic code for a hormone called leptin. This genetic malady can make people eat uncontrollably, but when cured with leptin injections, the weight gain ceases. In the Seam, even somebody with Prader-Willi will find nothing to eat uncontrollably, so they’re going to suffer even more than everyone else. And the same thing holds true for the leptin genetic problem—if you have crazy hormones that make you want to overeat but you happen to live in the Seam, forget it. You’re going to be even more hungry than everyone else. You are doomed!

  634 BC, Rome

  Doomsday predictions were prevalent in ancient Rome as far back as the legends of Romulus, who founded the city in 753 BC. Twelve magic eagles informed Romulus that they represented the twelve decades that ancient Rome would exist. At the end of the 120 years, the city would be destroyed and the great Roman empire would collapse. The ancient Roman calendar started at the founding of Rome, with 753 BC equal to 1 AUC (ab urbe condita). A simple calculation put the end of the world at 120 AUC, which was 634 BC.

  When 634 BC rolled around, the ancient Romans were horrified, certain they were all doomed by the imminent apocalypse. But nothing much happened that year.

  Instead of instant destruction of ancient Rome, the empire slowly expired. It’s widely debated when the Roman Empire fell, with many experts placing the date at AD 410, when Rome was sacked by barbarian Goth hordes.

  Regardless of the final fall of Rome in AD 410, in 476 BC, Germanic chief Odoacer defeated Romulus Augustus, the last Emperor of Western Rome, over a century after the eagles predicted the Roman apocalypse.

  389 BC, Rome

  After Odoacer defeated Romulus Augustus in 476 BC, another apocalyptic prediction arose in the land as new prophets re-analyzed the twelve-eagle notion. These new doomsday experts decided that the original eagle prophecy was entirely wrong and that the mystical eagles represented the days in a year and had actually told Romulus that the apocalypse would occur in 365 AUC, or 389 BC. As with the earlier apocalyptic prediction that Rome would cease to exist in 634 BC, this later prophecy also proved to be false.

  167 BC, Babylon

  Many biblical scholars suggest that the Book of Daniel was written sometime between 168 and 164 BC when the Macabees revolted against Greek forces occupying their land. In the final part of the Book of Daniel is a fairly detailed description of the end of all time, of the resurrection of the dead, who would then go to heaven or hell. The apocalypse of all mankind would occur approximately three years after the erection of the statue of Zeus in the Jewish temple circa 167 BC.

  The Book of Daniel is an early example of apocalyptic literature, with the Book of Revelation (see “Doomsday Predictions: Early AD, Holy Land”) in the New Testament providing the most famous example.

  Most fans of The Hunger Games series know that the author’s reference to Panem et Circenses extends back to the phrase, “Bread and Circuses,” in ancient Rome. In fact, Plutarch mentions in Mockingjay that the term has been used for thousands of years and was originally written in Latin (Mockingjay, 223). It’s no wonder they call the country, Panem. As mentioned earlier in this book, the phrase “Bread and Circuses” refers to the free grain dole (the bread) given to the starving by the government along with the gladiatorial games (the circuses). In a Scholastic Books interview, Suzanne Collins explains that she sends “tributes into an updated version of the Roman gladiator games, which entails a ruthless government forcing people to fight to the death as popular entertainment. The world of Panem, particularly the Capitol, is loaded with Roman references.”1

  But bread plays a much larger role in the series; it’s a symbol, yes, of the stuffed, fat-cat gluttony of the Capitol; yet it’s also a symbol of the love that Peeta Mellark has for Katniss. Remember, when Katniss was starving and unable to feed her family, Peeta risked his mother’s wrath by giving her two loaves of bread. In fact, his mother smashed something hard into his face because he wasn’t feeding the loaves to the pigs quickly enough (The Hunger Games, 30). His first act of true generosity, kindness, and love toward Katniss was this sacrifice of the bread. It served as a foreshadowing of the deep and eventually intimate relationship they would later share. She keeps the memory of that first meeting close to her, and it reminds her always that it was Peeta’s bread that first gave her hope (The Hunger Games, 32).

  But let’s return to bread and circuses, which in ancient Rome, meant a form of entertainment that instead could have been called blood and carcasses. The same holds true in the world of The Hunger Games, that the Capitol’s form of entertainment boils down to a thirst for blood and carcasses.

  Let’s face it: There are people, too many people, who enjoy watching others suffer. Throughout history, human death has fascinated the morbid, the bloodthirsty, the power hungry, and those who need to feel superior. The Salem witch hunt was responsible for the torturous deaths of too many, as were the Crusades. How many people have been hung and beheaded throughout the ages and throughout the world? Why do people go underground to gamble on deadly dog fights and chicken fights? To this day, witnesses sit in booths to watch the electrocution of condemned criminals. There must be some reason why violently provocative movies, video games, and anime are so popular. The resurgence of dystopian post-apocalyptic literature itself, such as The Hunger Games series and countless zombie apocalypse novels written by countless authors, point to a current obsession with death, violence, and the ultimate destruction of everything good. Do people find relief in violence and the brutal deaths of others, whether humans and animals, because it reminds them that they are still alive and doing well? This is the classic reason given for the popularity of horror literature, that by reading about frightening things, we “get it out of our systems” and we’re relieved that in our own daily lives, we’re relatively fine compared to the horrors of what we’ve just read.

  Even as Katniss battles evil and eventually overcomes the government, it’s hard to say that anyone truly “wins” in the world of The Hunger
Games. By the time Mockingjay swings down to its closing chapters, Katniss is a suicidal drug addict numb to violence and death.

  Throughout history, invading nations have subjugated, enslaved, killed, and tortured those they conquered. All societies kill: in necessary and unnecessary wars; by slaughtering animals in humane and inhumane ways; by hunting; by executing criminals and other “deviants”; and by the weapon of poverty, which kills people by starvation, malnutrition, and environment.

  While we delve more into these subjects later (see the upcoming chapters about torture, evil, and killer kids), for now, as we think about ancient Rome and its arenas and gladiators, we can draw direct parallels to what happens in The Hunger Games. Ancient Rome was one of the most extreme examples of a culture whose entertainment was based on human battles to the death. In their arenas, the Romans killed far more people than the Capitol does in the entire series of The Hunger Games, and they did it with efficiency and bizarre variety. Sure, the Maya and Aztecs of Mesoamerica tortured and slaughtered unbelievable numbers of people, but the key differences may be that: (1) the Maya and Aztecs killed for religious and spiritual reasons whereas the ancient Romans killed for entertainment, and (2) the Romans used sports arenas.

  In Rome’s amphitheaters and circuses, vast crowds feasted, drank, and partied while watching the gladiatorial combats, all sorts of blood shows, animal sacrifices, and even ritualized executions. Very similar, wouldn’t you say, to the Hunger Games with its arenas, its deadly combat, its blood shows, and its animal-human battles? And certainly, the people in the Capitol feast, drink, and party while watching these bloodbaths. In an interview with USA Today, Suzanne Collins points out that had television existed in ancient Rome, the gladiators would have been pop stars. She says, “It was mass, popular entertainment. If you take away the audience, what do you have?”2

  It’s telling that the names given to people in the Capitol are Roman names. We have Venia, Octavia, Seneca, Plutarch, and Flavius, just to note a few. Of particular interest is the name Flavius because in reality, the Flavians built the Colosseum, the amphitheater and main sports-blood arena of the Romans, in AD 80. At first, it was called the Flavian Amphitheater, though it is commonly known now as the Colosseum.

  Imperial Rome included many large forums for Games: In addition to the Colosseum were the Circus of Flaminius, the Theater of Marcellus, the Circus Maximus where chariot battles were held, the Theater of Pompey, and many others. Though originally, the fights were held in the Roman Forum. Spectators watched from galleries around the Forum, and by Caesar’s time, underground passages enabled gladiators to emerge suddenly into the arena.

  As in the Capitol of Panem, the ancient Romans enjoyed their festivals of death so much that the bloody spectacles formed a major aspect of the social lives of people from all classes. Everyone flocked to the arenas, where they gossiped during the violent and deadly shows, and they showed themselves off in hopes of “being seen” by more prominent and wealthy citizens.

  People even attended the inhumane arenas in hopes of attracting lovers. Finery and show, as in The Hunger Games, dominated; as translated by George Rolfe Humphries, Ovid wrote in ancient times that:

  There is another good ground, the gladiatorial shows.

  . . .

  Hither [women] come, to see;

  Hither they come, to be seen.

  [Women seeking love] Go and look at the games,

  where the sands are sprinkled with crimson3

  The eroticism associated with gladiators, the arena, and violence was enormous. It is similar to the eroticism of the Spanish matador, who slaughters bulls for public entertainment. The gladiators were so close to blood and death that they were perceived as symbols of the prohibited; in modern terms, they were certainly “bad boys” of their times, and hence, women were fascinated by them.

  The ancient Romans gambled on the outcomes of the gladiatorial battles, just as they do in The Hunger Games. The Romans looked all over their Empire for victims to serve in their games, and they glorified their bloodbaths in art.

  So why did the ancient Romans have no opposition to the inhumanity of their games while we, as readers of The Hunger Games series, find the violence and bloodbaths deplorable? Have people really changed that much over time? If so, why does the world still have so much violence and brutal death?

  While modern society seems obsessed with violence and death in literature, film, art, and video games, we don’t condone unnecessary brutality in our own lives. We read about horrors in other nations far away, but as long as the horrors don’t hit too close to home, most people have learned that there’s no point in doing anything other than shrugging it off. We feel impotent to do anything about the horrors in other countries. In fact, we’re impotent, if you get right down to it, to fix the indignities, starvation, homelessness, and senseless violence in our own countries. Most people are disgusted, albeit horrified, by the conditions of cows, chickens, horses, and other animals, particularly those meant for human consumption. And yet, most of us feel impotent to do anything about it.

  And yet, compared to the ancients, we are much more sensitive to animal rights, to the inhumane living conditions of animals intended for slaughter, the rights of those on death row to have “humane” executions, the cruelty of bullfights and rodeos, and to lab experiments on animals.

  In the times of the gladiators, as Duke University Professor Matt Cartmill writes:

  No intrinsic value was attributed to the lives of beasts in ancient Greece and Rome. . . . In a world where philosophers could seriously argue that human slaves are only detached parts of their masters’ bodies, and where grotesquely awful deaths were regularly meted out to human victims to amuse the arena goers, few concerned themselves with the lives of beasts.”4

  In the real arenas of Rome, the battles were much worse than in the World of The Hunger Games. For example, in AD 107, Trajan threw a twenty-three- day Games, in which 10,000 gladiators fought to the death and men slaughtered 11,000 animals.

  It was common to beat and burn slaves to death if they were suspected of desertion, treason, or magic. Further punishments included crucifixion, and also excruciating death in the ring by wild beasts. In the latter case, a slave or criminal entered the arena naked with a chain or rope around his neck. He was tied to a post with no defense against the wild animals that then ravaged his body. The Romans sometimes used these methods on women and children as well as men.

  Women were common in Nero’s gladiatorial events. He thrust women of all ages and classes into the ring: slaves, foreigners, and even nobles. In AD 63, we know that Ethiopian women and children fought to the death in Nero’s games.

  There simply were no boundaries regarding the methods of torture. Professional gladiators fought against older men with disabilities. Blindfolded men fought with swords. Men fought with lassos, tridents, spears, daggers, clubs, and nets.

  Considering the size and length of the Games, the number of people—men and sometimes, even women and children—violently killed in the rings, and the torture and killing of so many animals, ancient Roman games were probably the most inhumane and brutal in history. Scholars suggest that the cruelties of the Games were as horrific as the Nazi exterminations of millions of people, and that even Genghis Khan wasn’t as inhumane as the ancient Romans. As one scholar put it, “No one can fail to be repelled by this aspect of callous, deep-seated sadism which pervaded Romans of all classes.”5

  As another example, in AD 80 when the Colosseum opened, Titus threw a Games in Rome lasting one hundred days, in which nine thousand wild and domestic animals were slaughtered, followed by gladiatorial combats. Next, the arena was filled with water, so men could fight each other in mock sea battles. Outside the city, additional exhibitions pitted three thousand men against each other in another mock sea battle, which was followed by a mock military battle on the ground. And by “mock,” we mean that although the battles weren’t really waged between opposing government forces, the men
and animals were killed in brutal combat.

  The Hunger Games arenas differ from one year to the next. It’s all in the hands of the Gamemakers to dictate how children will fight and die and under what conditions they will battle. When desired, the Gamemakers simply change the rules of the Games. If they want to subject tributes to monkey muttations and poison gas, they have the authority to do so. In the books, they change the rules a few times: first, to allow two tributes to win the Games, then they change the rules back to allowing only one tribute to win. It is only Katniss’s ingenuity that saves both Peeta and herself.

  In her first Hunger Games, Katniss is thrust into an environment similar to District 12. The arena resembles a pine forest with trees where she can sleep at night and hide, with foods she knows how to procure, with terrain she can manage to navigate.

  In Catching Fire, the arena resembles a clock divided into wedges that possess different deadly hazards.

  In all cases, the Hunger Games arenas are enclosed areas. The only way into the arena is by force, and the only way out of the arena is by death (most common, obviously) or by slaughtering all the other tributes and emerging as the winner.

  The ancient Colosseum was also an enclosed arena. The only way into the Colosseum was by force (unless you were watching the Games), and the only way out of the Colosseum was by death (most common, obviously) or by somehow killing the other gladiators and emerging as the winner.

  It took ten years to build the Colosseum, which was named after a colossal statue of Nero. First, the Romans drained a lake and removed 30,000 tons of earth. Then they installed solid rock and concrete foundations that ran ten to thirteen feet at the bottom and twenty-six to thirty-nine feet deep under the columns, which were made out of travertine rock. In total, there were seven concentric rings of columns, with internal columns added to support the weight of all the spectators. Marble decorated the arena as well as the thrones set aside for the senators and other officials. The battle arena was separated from the spectators’ seating by a thirteen-foot-high wall. The floor of the arena where the battles were held—that is, where blood poured liberally—was thick sand. Gangways and rooms were added beneath the Colosseum, divided into four sections by two perpendicular passages. Cages beneath the arena held the wild animals, and when signaled, men hoisted the cages using lifts, opened the cages, and forced the animals along ramps through open trap doors leading into the arena.