Class, control, and memory, or 5 lessons from life in a silo

Humans are not made to live underground, so it's no surprise that the inhabitants of the mysterious silo from the Apple TV+ series of the same name constantly wonder why they are forced to look at the surface only through a large screen placed in the cafeteria. As is often the case in a large group of tightly packed people, countless theories and conspiracies against the ruling group emerge. The widespread amnesia about the reasons for living in the enormous inverted cone-shaped installation is, however, the foundation of the political doctrine of the government of the building, inhabited by 10,000 people. People trying to revive memories of the past are considered dangerous anti-systemic figures or, at best, outcasts.

Based on Hugh Howey's trilogy, the series does not explore only the hackneyed phrase that "the truth will set us free." In an interesting way and in a superb industrial setting, it describes the mechanisms of power and hierarchy, without which maintaining order in a claustrophobic environment seems impossible. The spark of rebellion is not only the desire to discover the truth for its own sake. The rebels simply want to surface, breathe fresh air, look at the distant horizon, and go where their legs will take them. Life, as a human version of a mole by definition, is not pleasant. Unfortunately, underground, they are kept by strict rules written in a mysterious Pact, guarded by the "enlightened" apparatus of repression.

The last two episodes of the third season of Silo more than compensated for the unnecessary dull moments that appeared in its first half. If the series had eight episodes instead of ten, it would probably be better for it.

In Howey's trilogy, however, there were much more dull moments and unnecessary descriptions, and the plot structure forced the creators to introduce numerous changes. Nevertheless, Graham Yost's work is one of those unusual works of pop culture from which many political and sociological conclusions can be drawn.

Warning, some spoilers may appear in the following part – but they probably won't spoil the joy of watching or reading.

1. The one who controls key technologies rules

Although the level of development in the silo resembles the late 20th century, some may use much more advanced technologies. Technological progress is simply unevenly distributed, which is not due to its slow absorption but to planned rationing. The inhabitants of the building cannot use the elevator, a natural solution for an underground structure with 144 floors, but must climb the huge stairs with effort. From the beginning, it can be suspected that this is not the result of some architectural mistake. Rationing technology is an instrument of petrifying the social order so that it does not go beyond the planned framework.

Although formally the head of the silo is the Mayor, and the strict Department of Justice and its fearsome superior, who has at their disposal a host of nameless officers with batons, quickly it turns out that the real power is held by the unassuming IT Department. Its technological advantage allows it to manipulate the community’s behaviors, operating under the guise of efficiently solving problems that plague the population.

As can be seen, both underground and on the surface, those holding the latest high-tech solutions are the true rulers, although on a daily basis they try to pretend to be friendly and harmless geniuses.

2. Class division is not accidental

A strict social hierarchy prevails in the silo, and breaking out of one's original group is very difficult.

Of course, social promotions occur, but it is not merit or talent that allows moving up the hierarchy, but loyalty to the system and usefulness to those higher up. Although the mechanics department ensures the physical functioning of the entire silo, providing, among other things, energy, its influence on power is very slight. Mechanics work and live almost at the bottom, so they rarely appear fifty floors higher, because such a trip means a whole day of strenuous climbing.

The planned class division not only limits the distribution of power to narrow privileged groups but also allows each layer to be enclosed in its own bubble, preventing broader oversight. The Supply Department spends entire days dealing with its own problems and is reluctant to cooperate with others, because it usually involves bending some rules, sneaking something from the warehouse, or performing troublesome favors of another kind. Couriers meet representatives of all departments but are too busy and tired from walking all day up and down stairs to interact with them.

Each department is limited by numerous obligations and rules, which they are meticulously accountable for, making interdepartmental compromises difficult. In this way, the community of the silo cannot organize itself to oppose the regime.

3. Good is relative

The strongest aspect of Silo is the lack of moral clarity. In the vast bunker, there are no typical villains who derive satisfaction from oppressing others or simply want to "chow down." Each protagonist is motivated by subjectively perceived good, and behind each stance are worthy arguments.

The political rivalry within the silo is a clash of specific values, not just particular interests – although, as in any system, these also exist. Different decision-makers have different moral compasses, leading to personal and class tensions, whose resolution requires reflection rather than simple pointing. Rebels and conspirators are also diverse, representing different visions of resistance, leading to numerous disputes among them.

Silo demonstrates that manicheanism in politics is most often harmful. Accusing opponents solely of the worst intentions makes it impossible to achieve lasting progress, as it turns political rivalry into a fight to the death, where defeating the opponent becomes more important than achieving widespread positive change. Opponent antagonism also reduces the likelihood of winning them over to your side.

There are many political swings in Silo, and almost every key character undergoes some degree of transformation. It is therefore much more effective to grit your teeth and start cooperating, because soon it will turn out that the real enemy is elsewhere, and maintaining conflict only serves their interests.

4. Rigid legalism leads to crimes

The silo is governed by meticulously crafted codes that contain rules for every possible event. Action procedures are described in detail and step-by-step, so that, by the method of boiling a frog, each subsequent step prepares decision-makers to make decisions that would have seemed unimaginable just a moment earlier. The authoritarian nature of the silo's power does not reveal itself immediately. The most radical regulations are only implemented once a certain point is reached. However, when that happens, the reaction can be so severe that even the bunker leadership feels uncomfortable with it.

Silo decision-makers constantly struggle with the burden of their choices. The Pact's regulations have been regarded as sacred for centuries, so going beyond them would mean completely overthrowing the worldview of most protagonists. The bunker’s top politicians have been raised from childhood with the conviction that obeying the Pact is the highest value of all. Yet, increasingly, strict adherence to rules leads them to actions that, taken out of context, would be considered inhumane or even criminal.

They are often forced to act against their closest ones. Some gradually soften their approach, trying to bend or negotiate the rules when possible. Among them, there are also those who, in the name of strict procedural adherence, are capable of committing the worst crimes, seeing nothing condemnable in it.

5. Without memory, man is nothing 

The greatest crime shown so far in Silo is committed by a protagonist who initially seems harmless and sympathetic. The brainwashing that eventually occurs turns him into an emotionless robot, fixated solely on efficiently implementing procedures. To do this, he is first deprived of memory, creating space in his mind for entirely new beliefs, and everything that would hinder their internalization is erased. Humanity re-emerges only when he is reminded of the name of a person important to him from the past. This allows him to begin regaining empathy and love.

Although memory is often seen as a recollection of past oppression or as shackles preventing progress (see the phrase "look to the future"), without it, individuals and entire societies lose their humanity. Erasing memories can turn a person into a being capable of anything, as the surrounding people become nameless pawns, not associated with any emotions.

In the silo, erasing memory enables the re-education of unruly individuals or the pacification of the entire community if it begins to ask too many questions. Removing memories also destroys social structures that threaten the hierarchy of the silo, as it turns their members into strangers to each other.

The procedure of reset, which involves the ultimate erasure of all residents' memories, leads to numerous deaths – including suicides, as losing memory also means losing the will to continue living. It’s pointless to bother underground when suddenly you are deprived not only of loved ones but even of memories of them.

In other words, without the past, there is no motivation to change the future. Only the real threat of being forgotten by family members prompts the silo's leaders to adhere strictly to the Pact's rules. Therefore, it is worth, as the saying goes, to remember the political significance of memory.

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