Why Did Everyone Go Blind In 'Blindness'?

I've always been chilled by how 'Blindness' strips society down to its brutal core. The novel isn't just about physical blindness—it's about the collapse of civilization when people lose their moral compass. The government's instant quarantine of the infected shows how quickly fear erodes human rights. What makes it dystopian is the rapid descent into chaos: hospitals become prisons, corpses rot in streets, and the strong prey on the weak. The lack of names for characters drives home how identity crumbles in crisis. It mirrors real-world pandemics and refugee camps, but pushes the horror further by removing even basic visual connection between people. The scenes where women are forced to trade sex for food reveal how easily dignity evaporates when systems fail.

In 'A Patch of Blue', Selina's blindness isn't just a physical condition—it sculpts her entire worldview. Unlike sighted characters who judge by appearances, she perceives people through voice, touch, and intuition. Her isolation in a toxic household sharpens her other senses; she detects kindness in Gordon’s hesitant footsteps and malice in her mother’s grip long before either is spoken aloud. The darkness becomes her shield against visual prejudices, letting her love Gordon purely for his soul. Yet blindness also traps her. She depends on others for truths about the world, leaving her vulnerable to lies—like her mother’s racism, which she unknowingly echoes until Gordon’s patience untangles it. Her lack of sight makes her hunger for experiences tactile and vivid: rain feels like 'a thousand tiny kisses,' and her joy at touching trees or feeding pigeons is achingly poignant. The film’s brilliance lies in showing how blindness both limits and liberates—her vulnerability becomes her strength, her innocence a catalyst for change in those around her.

The plot of 'Blindness' was deeply inspired by the author’s fascination with human vulnerability and societal collapse. I’ve always been drawn to stories that explore how people react when stripped of their comforts and norms. The idea of a sudden epidemic of blindness felt like the perfect metaphor for how fragile our systems are. It’s not just about physical blindness but the moral and ethical blindness that follows. The novel mirrors how quickly society can unravel when fear takes over, and how individuals either rise or fall in the face of chaos. I think the author wanted to challenge readers to confront their own assumptions about humanity and survival. The setting, deliberately unnamed, adds to the universality of the story, making it feel like it could happen anywhere, to anyone. It’s a stark reminder of how interconnected we are and how easily those connections can break.

In 'Oedipus Rex', sight and blindness play pivotal roles that deepen the tragedy of the story. Oedipus, proud and confident, sees himself as the solver of riddles; yet, he remains blind to the truth about his origins and fate until it's too late. One of the most poignant moments occurs during his confrontation with Tiresias, the blind prophet. Tiresias, though physically sightless, sees the truth of Oedipus's hardships—his crimes, his destiny—and warns him. Oedipus's refusal to see beyond his arrogance showcases how vision can sometimes be a curse. He literally blinds himself at the end, a powerful symbol of his quest for truth leading him to self-inflicted pain. This theme resonates beyond the text, encouraging us to reflect on our own metaphorical blindness—how often do we ignore the truth in front of us, blinded by our own biases and misconceptions? The intersection of sight and blindness in this tragedy serves as a cautionary tale about knowledge and the inevitable suffering that often accompanies it. Oedipus's journey is a stark reminder: sometimes, what you perceive isn't the entirety of reality, and embracing vulnerability in the pursuit of truth can lead to shocking revelations that reshape our identities. This tragic paradox is something I think about often, particularly in moments where I feel caught up in the disillusionment of my own life. The way Sophocles intertwines these motifs gives the play its timeless depth, making it a poignant exploration of human nature and fate. Overall, the significance of sight versus blindness in 'Oedipus Rex' isn't just about the physical act; it's about the deeper understanding of one’s own truth and fate, and how they influence one’s life. It's a chilling reminder that sometimes ignorance truly can be bliss, but only for so long before reality hits, usually hard.

There’s something about reading Helen Keller late at night with a mug of cold coffee and a dog curled at my feet — her lines cut right through the fog. Two quotes that always stick with me are: "Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it," and "We can do anything we want to if we stick to it long enough." Both of those speak directly to blindness and perseverance: the first acknowledges hardship without letting it be the final word, the second turns endurance into a kind of practical hope. When I dug into 'The Story of My Life' and read parts of 'The World I Live In', I started to see how Keller's everyday descriptions of learning and touching the world become lessons in method. For example, "Blindness separates people from things; deafness separates people from people" isn't only descriptive — it’s a call to find other bridges to connection. That quote helped me reframe setbacks I faced when learning to draw; the loss of one sense becomes an invitation to sharpen others. If you want to use her words like a toolkit, try this: pick one quote and write it on a sticky note where you’ll see it before a hard task, then break that task into tiny steps (Keller’s life was full of tiny, repetitive triumphs). I still find it oddly comforting — like a quiet push — when I’m stuck on a creative project or a long study session. It keeps me moving, even when my progress looks slow.

In 'Blindness', the societal collapse is depicted through the rapid breakdown of order when an epidemic of blindness strikes. The novel shows how quickly civilization crumbles when people lose their sight, and with it, their ability to function as a society. The government’s response—quarantining the blind in an abandoned asylum—only accelerates the chaos. Inside, the inmates are left to fend for themselves, and the lack of oversight leads to a descent into savagery. The novel explores how fragile societal structures are, and how easily they can be dismantled when fear and desperation take hold. It’s a chilling reminder of how dependent we are on systems that can collapse overnight. The story also delves into the psychological impact of blindness, showing how it strips away the veneer of civility. People revert to primal instincts, hoarding food, forming factions, and resorting to violence. The novel doesn’t just focus on the physical blindness but also the metaphorical blindness of humanity—our inability to see the consequences of our actions, our selfishness, and our capacity for cruelty. Yet, amidst the darkness, there are glimmers of hope, as some characters retain their humanity and compassion, suggesting that even in the worst circumstances, there’s a possibility for redemption.

In 'Blindness', the novel by José Saramago, the narrative dives deep into the psychological and societal breakdown caused by the sudden epidemic of blindness. The prose is dense, poetic, and introspective, forcing readers to confront the fragility of human civilization and morality. The movie adaptation, while visually striking, simplifies some of these themes. It focuses more on the physical horror and survival aspects, losing the novel’s philosophical weight. The characters in the book are unnamed, emphasizing their universality, but the film gives them identities, which shifts the focus to individual stories rather than collective human experience. The novel’s ambiguous ending, leaving readers to ponder the cyclical nature of humanity’s flaws, is replaced in the film with a more concrete resolution. Both are compelling, but the book’s layers of meaning are harder to translate to the screen. The movie does excel in its use of visual metaphors, like the stark white blindness and the chaotic, decaying environments. However, it lacks the novel’s ability to linger on the internal struggles of the characters. For instance, the book’s exploration of how the blind adapt to their new reality, finding ways to communicate and organize, is more nuanced than the film’s portrayal. The novel’s narrative style, with its long, flowing sentences and lack of punctuation, creates a sense of disorientation that mirrors the characters’ experience. The film, by contrast, uses conventional storytelling techniques, making it more accessible but less immersive. Both versions are worth experiencing, but the novel’s depth and complexity make it the richer of the two.

In 'Blindness', fear is portrayed as an all-consuming force that drives humanity to its darkest corners. The novel shows how the sudden onset of blindness in an unnamed city creates chaos, stripping away societal norms and exposing raw human instinct. The fear of the unknown—what caused the blindness, how it spreads, and whether it’s permanent—fuels paranoia and selfishness. People hoard food, abandon their loved ones, and turn violent. The quarantine facility becomes a microcosm of this fear, with inmates forming factions and resorting to brutality to survive. Yet, the novel also subtly explores how fear can be a catalyst for resilience. The doctor’s wife, who pretends to be blind to stay with her husband, embodies this. Her fear for her husband’s safety drives her to protect him and others, even when it means risking her own life. The narrative suggests that while fear can bring out the worst in people, it can also reveal unexpected strength and compassion. The ending, where the blindness inexplicably lifts, leaves readers questioning whether the real blindness was the inability to see humanity’s potential for kindness amidst fear.