Jordie Devlin
Incels or “involuntary celibates,” are a culture of straight men who believe they are so repulsive to women that they are destined to die alone. Masters of woe, sexism and eugenics, this Internet subculture was dragged into the light after some high-profile murder cases, notably that of Elliot Rodger. In 2014 Rodger shot six people, claiming in his manifesto that he did it “because the females of the human species were incapable of seeing the value in me.”
In 2022 the United States Secret Service published a report on the incel movement, using the “2018 Tallahassee Shooting” as a case study. The shooter involved in this incident, Scott Paul Beierle, shot up a hot yoga studio, injuring six and killing two. Both fatalities were women. Beierle identified with Rodger and was found to have posted incel content on his YouTube channel. In a video from 2013 he detailed his lack of success in dating and left an eerie message for the women of the future, claiming “you bring this on yourselves.” According to the Secret Service report, Beierle’s spree, like Rodger’s, was motivated by “his inability to develop or maintain relationships with women.”
The use of the word incel is standard fare on the Internet these days. But in 1994, before the term was coined and the aforementioned killings occurred, one French novelist envisioned what type of man would emerge as the West moved towards an increasingly technological and isolated mode of existence.
Michel Houellebecq’s Extension du domaine de la lutte was published in English in 1998 and renamed Whatever. The novel follows a lonely, chain-smoking computer programmer, who writes strange stories about animals in his free time.
At the beginning of the novel our unnamed narrator declares:
“The problem is, it’s just not enough to live according to the rules. Sure, you manage to live according to the rules. Sometimes it’s’ tight, extremely tight, but on the whole you manage it. Your tax papers are up to date. Your bills are paid on time. You never go out without your identity card (and the special little wallet for your Visa!). Yet you haven’t any friends.”
One thread that links both of the incel shooters mentioned, is their inability to connect with others. Elliot Rodger’s roommate recounted that Rodger was frustrated by the fact that “no one seemed to want to hang out with him.” Beirele’s roommate echoed similar thoughts “he was very weird and made everyone uncomfortable…it worried me at the time.”
The first woman our narrator encounters is a worker for the Ministry of Agriculture named Catherine Lechardoy. Our narrator is tasked with training her employees in the use of a software program called Maple. He notes “From the start Catherine Lechardoy confirms my worst fears. She’s twenty-five, with a higher technical certificate in data processing, and prominent teeth; her aggressiveness is astonishing.” Here is the first glimpse into what he believes are unattractive qualities in women. Lechardoy subverts the conservative housewife role. She is educated and her manner of speaking is aggressive rather than submissive. She represents a feminist ideal that is strengthened by her business-like behavior and direct way of speaking to our narrator. Lechardoy says “Let’s hope it’s going to work, your software!” and complains about how bad the previous software from the company has been. This talking down emasculates him as he tells her he is only a programmer, not responsible for the construction or sale of the software. He admits “In fact I decide nothing.”
Another way Lechardoy emasculates our narrator is by asking him out for a coffee. He agrees but thinks “She’s not all that pretty. As well as prominent teeth she has lifeless hair, little eyes that burn with anger.” During their coffee date Lechardoy does most of the talking due to our narrator’s awkwardness. Instead of talking to her he speaks internally to the reader. “God has not, in truth, been too kind to her.” Our narrator’s lack of power or agency can be directly linked to his interior rants about women. All that he is afraid to say to Lechardoy’s face he reveals to the reader, misogynistic thoughts and comments that will nearly result in murder by the novel’s end.
Our narrator summarizes his life as so: “In general I see nobody at the weekends. I stay home, do a bit of tidying. I get gently depressed.” But he does meet an old college friend for dinner, a former engineer turned priest. This priest presents the idea that it is society’s turn away from religion and towards technology that is making everyone depressed. The priest believes that modern society suffers from “vital exhaustion.” Our narrator wryly remarks “I get the impression he considers me a fitting symbol of this vital exhaustion. No sex drive, no ambition; no real interests, either.” This seed of “vital exhaustion” will expand as the novel progresses and our narrator begins to realize that his sense of unease and unhappiness is related to the advancement of technology and the politics of the sexual marketplace.
As in most of Houellebecq’s novels Whatever is not plot driven but is filled with a couple of scenes and characters through which Houellebecq channels his bleak view of the world. Our narrator spends a lot of time sharing his short stories with the reader, such as Dialogues Between a Cow and a Filly. In this story he describes a Breton Cow that desires nothing more than “to get stuffed.” The cow is artificially inseminated and “the breeder, of course, symbolized God.” In this story the narrator is perhaps drawing a link between sexual desire and technology, the idea that the Breton Cow no longer needs a bull to achieve satisfaction, or her “life’s one desire.” As technology advances so does the reality that women will one day no longer need men.
Like both of the incel shooters previously mentioned, the narrator in Whatever is aware of his isolation and how separate he appears to be from the rest of society, in particular women. While he views himself as a “last resort” for the opposite sex, he does not see himself as bad off as his colleague Tisserand, who is described as having “the exact appearance of a buffalo toad – thick, gross, heavy, deformed features, the very opposite of handsome.”
One of the incel’s main fixations concerns physical appearance. The incel’s mortal enemy (aside from women) is the “Chad.” Chads are men that are considered to be conventionally attractive, well-built and worthy of a woman’s attention. In the novel various Chads appear, such as Thomassen, a new joiner at the company who is described as “superbly well-proportioned, and his face is incredibly handsome, sunny and radiant; you really have the impression of being in the presence of a superman, a demigod.” The height and beauty of Thomassen embarrasses the toad-like Tisserand who blushes when he stands up to shake his hand and notices how Thomassen towers over him. At one point our narrator thinks “I even thought for a moment he was going to go for Thomassen’s throat; it was painful to see.”
Incels pick and choose from different branches of psychology and science to cement their bleak worldview. Assortative mating is one of those ideas. It is a genetic theory that proposes that certain mates will seek out partners that are similar to them. A tall person will date a tall person. A deaf person will date a deaf person.
Using this idea and applying it to Western beauty standards, incels believe that due to their “ugly” genetic features, they will never have a chance with a “Stacy.” Stacy is Chad’s female counterpart. Stacys are generally depicted as attractive blonde women who do not have to work for a living, who coast through life on their looks.
At various points in Whatever it appears that the narrator more than Tisserand resembles an incel who views the rest of the world through this “black pill” ideology (as in: “take the black pill,” a nihilistic contortion of hyper masculine, “red pill” ideology). The main plot revolves around a work trip in rural France, during which our narrator accompanies Tisserand to various bars and clubs and watches his futile attempts to attract women.
After dancing with a teenager or a “Stacy” in a nightclub who rejects his advances and ends up dancing with a younger and more handsome man, Tisserand, visibly shaken, is told by our narrator that “You have to resign yourself to the inevitable; such things are not for you.”
The next morning over a bowl of Nesquik, an exasperated Tisserand declares “Fuck it! I’m twenty-eight and still a virgin!” Our narrator’s response to this admission is to praise Tisserand for not visiting sex-workers. But he reveals to the reader that “Just like unrestrained economic liberalism, and for similar reasons, sexual liberalism produces phenomena of absolute pauperisation.”
This “pauperisation” idea, that the Chads get the Stacys while anyone deemed to be “Sub 8” (having physical features that put them below chads on the incel physical attractiveness scale) are some of the founding tenets of the current black pill ideology that plagues the Internet today.
Towards the end of the novel our narrator goes full incel mode and convinces Tisserand to kill a woman:
“When you feel these women trembling at the end of your knife, and begging for their young lives, then will you truly be the master; then will you possess them body and soul.”
He believes the killing would be a just reaction to being excluded from the sexual marketplace. The pair stalk a couple and watch them have sex on a deserted beach. But the killing doesn’t take place. Tisserand can’t go through with it, neither can our narrator who admits he could have killed them but “blood changes nothing.”
Houellebecq is obsessed with the idea of the sexual marketplace and sexual frustration. It appears in some form or other in all of his books. While he seems adept at analyzing certain societal problems he does not offer any solutions. Like most novelists he is simply an observer of the times. If one is to separate the text from the author and believe in Roland Barthe’s, infamous theories from The Death of the Author which espouses the idea that “Writing is the destruction of every voice, of every point of origin.” Then perhaps there is no trace of Houellebecq among his lonely protagonists.
But if one is to read the author side by side with the text, there is some insight into where Houellebecq is coming from. One of Houellebecq’s friends, fellow French novelist Frédéric Beigbeder, when hanging out with Houellebecq put on a song by the Moody Blues which caused Houellebecq to become upset. According to Beigbeder “He started crying, crying. Finally he explained that at all the parties when he was 18, all the boys and girls slow-danced to this song, but he was alone and no one talked to him because he was ugly.” Perhaps Houellebecq is closer to his characters than he lets on.
Houellebecq has drawn criticism for his portrayal of women in his work as they often are stand-ins that exist for his protagonists to either have sex with or objectify and lack any agency. But whatever one thinks of him or his work, he was prescient in his identification of this misogynistic breed of men that came to be known as incels. A group that is no longer satisfied with inhabiting the dark corners of the Internet, but which seeks to take revenge on the world it believes has shunned them.
According to a New America report, around forty to fifty deaths have been related to incel violence since the movement emerged. Many of these men who are radicalized online, are frequently found to be isolated and friendless. Technology comes into play again. Our narrator admits “I don’t like this world. I definitely do not like it. The society in which I live disgusts me; advertising sickens me; computers make me puke.”
Can literature change the world? Probably not. But if anything can be learned from this novel, it’s that technology and isolation go hand in hand and not just for those inclined to become incels. Legions of young men, particularly Gen-Zer’s, have fallen for the “looksmaxxing” trend. Looksmaxxing is the idea that by physically altering ones features, from bone structure, to eye shape, one is able to increase their value in the sexual marketplace. According to an article from The New York Post about this trend “one of Turkey’s leading hair clinics, has seen a 50% increase in male patients aged 18-24 – Gen Z – requesting hair transplants, the clinic confirmed to The Post. And 38% of all patients admitted social media affected their decision to have a procedure done.” In their attempt to sculpt themselves into a certain ideal of male attractiveness, one that is pushed by black pill ideology, these men have failed to realize that looks aren’t everything. The greatest irony is that men who were once considered “ugly” by those same standards, are now greatly desired. According to Vogue 2024 is “The Year of the (Hot) Rat.”
This trend goes against every archetypal beauty standard that men have been fed for decades. Rodents are generally depicted as ugly creatures, even in cute anthropomorphic representations like Ratatouille, they still live in sewers and feed on garbage. But now it appears the image of the rodent and in turn men who resemble them, has been inverted. Square jaws are out, “concorde-pointed noises” and “chipmunk lips” are in.
Incels fall back on physical appearance time and time again, it is the main piece of “evidence” which they cling to. But when that which they consider to be ugly is now beautiful, their argument falls apart.
The men falling for the looksmaxxing trend do not resemble Tisserand or our narrator. They are normal teenagers. If on this level men are feeling this way, perhaps Houellebecq was trying to warn society not of the violent repercussions that would occur, but about the great sadness and mental health crisis that would arise from the waves of men who feel they have been rejected from society based on their appearance. There seems to be two reactionary modes by males who feel they have been rejected by society based on their looks. One is to change through methods such as physical exercise and plastic surgery, the other is to lash out at the perceived target of rejection which is women.
At the end of Whatever our narrator visits a psychiatrist after having a mental breakdown. His psychiatrist when trying to get to the root of his depression asks him “When did you last have sexual relations?” Our narrator responds “Just over two years ago.” “Ah! She exclaimed, almost in triumph. There you are then! Given that, how can you possibly feel good about life?”
Our narrator empathizes with the other patients on the ward, people he would have previously deemed crazy. “The idea gradually dawned on me that all these people – men or women – were not in the least deranged; they were simply lacking in love.” 