Berserk’s Existentialism
by Simone Santamato
Speaking of Berserk, engaging in philosophical discourse on the matter resembles traversing a minefield, where each step elicits objections. Allow me to reiterate: Berserk stands as one of the most intricate, convoluted, and brutal creations to emerge from the East. Consequently, interpretations of its content vary greatly among individuals. Compounding matters is the lamentable reality that the manga, regrettably surpassing the animated adaptation both in timeliness and quality, remains unfinished since its inception in 1989. This lack of resolution further obfuscates the clarity of its philosophical and narrative aspects, which would otherwise be more apparent. Personally, I hold the conviction that this particular work has proven to be the most arduous and demanding undertaking I have ever encountered. Its challenges stem not solely from the intricacy of its subject matter, but primarily from the intense emotional attachment it has forged within me. Therefore, while it will assuredly be an impassioned and heartfelt endeavor, rest assured that it shall maintain its objectivity and rigor, as has been the hallmark of my previous presentations.
“[…] and I am not ashamed to tell the truth, to confess, how tedium I feel/for this life of mine full of torment.”
— Tibullus, Elegies Book III
In the Italian adaptation of this verse, it aptly captures the essence of the context we are about to delve into. Whether it be Tibullus or any other persona, they audaciously, sincerely, and candidly express the profound torment that saturates life, emphasizing that one should not be ashamed of such anguish. I firmly believe that if there were a word that could tightly bind, like a noose, the entirety of a complex work like Berserk, it would be "torment." The entire narrative of Berserk can be encapsulated within the realm of torment and despair. In a Kierkegaardian sense, despair, as an intrinsic element, compels the necessity of selfhood, the necessity of being true to oneself. Virtually all the characters in Berserk experience this Kierkegaardian despair, and through their shattered inner turmoil, they grasp the imperative of their own existence.
Differing from the previous piece we presented, which sought to philosophically analyze a work that is also inherently philosophical, Berserk is distinctly manifest and evidently philosophical in nature. Its narrative foundation rests upon meticulously pondered motivations and introspective reflections that occasionally veer into nebulous territories, not only for the reader but also for the introspecting characters themselves. Despite comprehending their objectives, they do not fully apprehend the driving forces that propel them. Introducing Berserk is a far more challenging task than introducing any other Japanese work. Its content is vast, its narrative highly intricate, composed of multiple sagas that each center around a distinct theme, and every moment within the story is imbued with a constant sense of tension, pressing against one's neck like a suffocating breath, permeated by danger. Berserk demands to be read with bated breath, devoid of any true climax as the narrative continually unfolds with its focal and pivotal events.
Berserk itself is a climax. Acknowledging this, and recognizing that the majority of readers of this present work may not have had the opportunity to experience the entirety of the work, we shall approach it through the lens of Kierkegaardian and Heideggerian philosophy. These two philosophical perspectives, considering their existentialist value in relation to the former and their projectualist nature in relation to the latter, allow for both a surface-level interpretation and a satisfactory glimpse into the enormity that lies within, with the hope of kindling curiosity to explore further. Specifically, we shall focus on the two main protagonists of the work, Guts and Griffith, who, alongside the other characters, propel the narrative forward. Set within a fictional Middle Ages, interspersed with historical allusions, Berserk portrays a world entrenched in war, misery, and subjugation. Joyful moments find little space within Berserk, and those few fleeting instances border on the ethereal, as they are abruptly overshadowed by poignant events.
Within this medieval setting, we encounter two remarkable mercenaries: Guts, whose life finds meaning in the sword and surviving through killing, and Griffith, a mercenary who kills to sustain himself and pursue a seemingly unattainable dream. As a mercenary, Griffith aspires to possess his own kingdom, to ascend social ranks and amass the power he desires. He is willing to go to any lengths to achieve this. Through a fateful duel, Guts becomes bound to Griffith, compelled to follow him in his pursuit, becoming a member of the Band of the Hawk, the mercenary company led by Griffith. From this point onwards, various narrative vistas unfold—some lengthy, others concise—which not only progress the story but also delve into the philosophical themes at the heart of the work, at least within its initial part.
The central theme of Berserk's first 26 volumes is the dream, or, in a more contextual Heideggerian sense, the project. The authentic meaning of existence lies in becoming aware of one's own being-towards-death. It is through this awareness that one comprehends the necessity for an inner truth that gives shape to an otherwise inauthentic existence. Griffith embodies this awareness flawlessly. He understands the inevitability of death as humanity's ultimate fate and recognizes the need to live a life imbued with meaning, even if it does not guarantee immortality. Having grasped the concept of death, Griffith now seeks to understand life, which, if authentic, transcends mere existence as a function of death. In Heideggerian terms, each individual understands the essence of being in its authenticity through death and reveals their individual characteristics through their projects. However, Berserk takes this metaphysical-existential reflection a step further, embedding it within an ethical and interpersonal context. Pursuing one's own project or dream inevitably means trampling upon the dreams of others.
Every dream, every project, encounters resistance from the projects or dreams of others. Even the feeblest and most unrealistic dreams exist within individuals, and the greater they become, the more they tend to overshadow the dreams of others who stand in their way. Regardless of their potential insignificance, dreams and projects always extend outward, intersecting with the dreams of others. From these clashes, only a dream, only a project, can emerge into the light and persist. In reference to the dream, Griffith maintains that it is:
“Something that you do for no one and that you realize… you realize only for yourself. There are those who dream of dominating the world, those who dedicate their whole lives to the creation of a sword, and if there is a dream to which they sacrifice their whole selves… There is also a dream which, like a storm, sweeps away thousands of other dreams. […]
The dream sustains us and makes us suffer, the dream saves us and kills us. And then, after abandoning us, its ashes always remain at the bottom of our hearts… until we die… […] one is born by chance, without wanting it, and spends a life without meaning… I could never bear such an existence.”
— K. Miura, Berserk Manga
Having been introduced in a hopefully effective manner, the character of Griffith embodies determination and self-awareness, seeking to give life meaning despite understanding nothing. On the other hand, the true protagonist of the work, Guts, as we have seen, has no plan other than to kill in order to survive. However, as one can easily surmise, being in the company of Griffith and opening his heart to the Hawks will drastically change him. What was once only a thirst for blood transforms into a desire to search for his true self, leading to a pivotal phase that I won't mention to avoid spoiling the surprise.
In a Kierkegaardian sense, Griffith could represent the ethical aspect as he has earnestly made a choice and relentlessly pursues it over time. Conversely, Guts remains aesthetically trapped in a spiral of choices that he has not consciously undertaken. He pursues the pleasure of killing, he pursues the pleasure of money—although the latter serves to sustain him—and his only aim is to live in the present moment, as tomorrow is undefined and uncertain due to his lack of plans.
“Aesthetics in man is that by which he spontaneously is what he is; ethics is that by which he becomes what he becomes. […]
He who lives aesthetically can give no satisfactory explanation of his life, because he always lives only in the moment, and has only a relative and limited consciousness of himself.”
— S. Kierkegaard, Either/Or
It is precisely this "only relative and limited awareness of himself" that, once unveiled in all its devastating harshness, propels Guts on a path of self-discovery. Just as it was for Griffith, this revelation highlights the need to give meaning to his own existence, a meaning that doesn't solely revolve around supporting the projects or dreams of others. The seemingly superficial characterization of Guts gradually deepens, revealing a complexity that goes beyond the simple archetype of an executioner who later regains his senses. The process of psychological exploration may be slow and burdened by narrative weight, but Guts' character becomes highly nuanced, particularly in the later phases of the story.
"What the hell am I doing... in such a lousy place? Who am I risking my life for?"
— K. Miura, Berserk Manga
The awareness he attains leads Guts towards events that will not only revolutionize his own existence but also the world in which he finds himself. His profound and ethical choice, as anticipated, encounters resistance from the dreams of others, particularly Griffith's dream, for which Guts is an indispensable element. This clash can only result in the continuation of one's own project, unfortunately but necessarily. We hope that this lengthy but hopefully intriguing discussion will ignite your curiosity to discover which path prevails.
Berserk's lengthiness can be attributed not so much to the vastness of its story or expanded universe, but rather to the numerous hiatuses that the author, Kentaro Miura, takes for various reasons. This can often make the reading experience feel long-winded. The elegy of Berserk is attributed to Ligdamus, a pseudonym believed to be used by Tibullus or even a young Ovid. This aligns with the canonical nature of Berserk, as its universe is permeated by an arcane force, fate, which evokes the classical concept of "Τύχη" present in Greek poetic and literary worlds.
"From now you are mine."
— K. Miura, Berserk Manga
This is what Griffith says to Guts after he has completely subdued him. Even today, due to subsequent complex narrative events, the relationship between Guts and Griffith is the subject of heated discussions about the nature of the emotions, particularly Griffith's feelings towards Guts, that drive them. Some argue for an underlying Platonism, where the physical sphere is sublimated by embracing an ideal one. Others see a reference to the philiacal feeling found in classical epics, such as Achilles and Patroclus in the Iliad. Some interpret their relationship as homoerotic, while others view it as utilitarianism aimed at emotionally involving Guts in the pursuit of personal goals. As can be deduced, the work is undeniably complex and multifaceted.
Taxonomically speaking, the "Golden Age" arc in Berserk is an extensive flashback that serves to provide context to the initial in medias res narrative of the first issues. Unfortunately, due to space limitations and the potential for overwhelming prolixity, we cannot delve further into this matter. However, I would like to emphasize that the subsequent reflection on the violent clash of two dreams, two projects, aligns with both Heraclitean and Hegelian logic. Once a thing is posited, it will be countered by a negation, leading to an inevitable clash that ultimately results in a surpassing (in Hegelian terms, aufhebung) that incorporates the negation within itself.
In Berserk, the position of the inept, or the one who does not know how to navigate life or find meaning in their own existence, is evident. They rely on the projects of others, becoming metaphorically like a small flame attempting to fuel a larger and hotter flame, which in turn keeps the dimmer one alive. This reflects the Svevian position in Berserk.
The term "friend" in Berserk primarily refers to the reflection on friendship made by Griffith, which helps Guts understand the value of dreams, projects, and the importance of giving meaning to his own existence. According to other interpretations, Guts, in his quest for self-discovery, desires to be a true friend to Griffith, an equal who is unafraid to oppose his friend's dream. This opposition, in fact, is seen as a testament to true friendship, as it reflects the pursuit of one's own dream. From a philosophical standpoint, this reflection aligns with Kierkegaard's philosophy, where a friend is someone who shares the same conception of life and is animated by the same intentions as oneself.
To further illustrate Guts' thoughts, I would like to quote the animated series, which I believe portrays them more explicitly than the manga. In episode 14 of the 1997 Berserk anime, Guts says:
"What am I doing here, looking like a wretch, leading an ignoble life?"
— Berserk, episode 14, 1997
This quote showcases Guts' contemplation of his own state and the realization that he wants more from life than what he currently has.