The Plague

With the advent of autumn, Oran remains “prostrate, at the mercy of the plague” (91), with its epidemic-fatigued masses “marking time” with the passing days. The novel’s heightened attention to time as a metaphysical concept, already in play once quarantine hits the city, comes to the fore here. Time can be perceived as existence itself, as the chronological succession of life’s events progressing in an irreversible past-present-future succession. Taking its course in the absence or presence of mankind—time exists outside of each individual lifespan—time presents an ontological double-bind, its independent functioning nevertheless implying human existence, at least insofar as humans perceive it: It is people who make sense of their lives by organizing them according to a temporal system—hours, minutes, etc.—of their own devising. Under typical circumstances, time guides people’s lives through natural phenomena—the rising and setting of the sun and the changing of seasons, for example—which humans use to organize their daily existence, be it mealtimes, sleep/work schedules, and social interaction. In the novel, however, quarantine effaces the elements of life that comprise Oranians’ routines. With their schedules completely off-kilter, Oranians’ sole activity becomes the nonactivity of noting time’s presence. Life, then, is reduced to meta-life, when even the few remaining distractions prove to be fraught with plague, as evinced by Tarrou’s and Cottard’s trip to the opera.

Hard at work in their attempts to ease the community’s struggles, Rieux and the sanitary squad experience quarantine’s impact on perceptions of time somewhat differently. Rather than being forced to sit idle, squad members toil nonstop, such that time escapes their notice. For them, plague becomes life’s de facto organizational system, as plague cases, deaths, and protocol dominate their waking hours. These men, however, display the grave effects of plague-fatigue. Though they function in overdrive, growing indifference and “brain-fog” seep in and overtake them. For example, while attending to a quarantine station, Rambert remains capable of citing the minute details of his work but loses sight of its overall picture. Rieux, upon hearing about his absent wife’s worsening condition, can barely access the emotions necessary to fuel a reaction. With no remaining recourse but repressing his feelings, Rieux realizes that the task before him no longer lies in healing but merely in diagnosing.

The meaningless death of Othon’s son serves as a major turning point in the novel. On the narrative and diegetic levels, it propels Paneloux’s second sermon and subsequent death, inspires Othon’s change of character, and enables the redemptive male-bonding scene between Tarrou and Rieux. Furthermore, the boy’s demise, the novel’s most lengthy and detailed individual account of death, sets the stage for the eventual decline of plague casualties, which gains momentum after a plague-stricken Grand mysteriously recovers. On the thematic level, the boy’s death raises the question of religion’s relevance in an absurd world.

With philosophical discourse at its height in Part 4, the main characters’ beliefs and worldviews fully intersect, with the centrality of Rieux’s humanism acting as the benchmark of comparison. Given Rambert’s change of heart regarding his current life’s mission, his goals are now aligned with Rieux’s; however, the latter’s personal precept of extending medical treatment to the masses contrasts with the former’s driving force of love. In following with the Jesuit ideals of service and stewardship, Paneloux allies his actions with Rieux’s objectives, and the “all or nothing” approach to faith he presents in his second sermon demonstrates a structural and thematic parallel with Rieux’s stance toward fighting plague. This said, Rieux adamantly rejects the priest’s blind faith in a belief system that includes brutality toward innocent children. Rieux and his foil Tarrou, both atheists and humanists, hold the most similar stances on fighting plague. However, their strategies vary, with Rieux’s use of medicine to treat just one facet of evil (illness) contrasting with Tarrou’s vision of fighting injustice in its myriad forms.