Transcription
Do you still remember Eren's gaze when he first saw the sea in Attack on Titan? That was absolutely not the emotion of a wish come true, but the look of an idealist's soul instantly dying.
As children, adults and society constantly fed us a myth: as long as you could endure hell, endure the days of scrimping and saving, as long as you could buy a house, get married, get promoted, and successfully climb over that societal hurdle, you would attain true freedom and happiness. But the moment you, with battered feet, finally crawled to the seaside of your life, you would discover that the gap between expectation and reality was terrifyingly large. The other side of the sea held no beauty, only a more cruel and meaningless battlefield.
Today, Xin Liu Suo will use the perspective of the 20th-century French psychoanalytic master Jacques Lacan to deeply analyze Eren's choices in Attack on Titan. From Armin's words to Eren pointing at the sea, we will deconstruct the metaphors and reveal why what you finally obtain, after all your longing, becomes the beginning of the most brutal hell in your life. Before delving into the deepest psychological analysis, let's first look at a character in Attack on Titan who is like us ordinary people: Jean.
In the first three seasons of Attack on Titan, the worldview is that humanity is trapped within three concentric walls: Maria, Rose, and Sina. Outside these walls, man-eating Titans roam. Life within the walls, though accelerated, is at least safe. These three walls perfectly correspond to what Lacan calls the "symbolic order" in the real world: human language, laws, culture, norms, and standards. From the moment we are born, we are placed into this symbolic order, a "wall" that is meant to protect us. Society tells you to get good grades, find a stable job, save money to buy a house. This "wall" protects you from poverty and hardship, but at the same time, it confines you within a predetermined path.
Jean's initial wish was very pure. He didn't want to be a world-saving hero. He joined the training corps, enduring hardships year after year, with the sole goal of ranking in the top 10 and joining the Military Police. This would allow him to live a comfortable and safe life in the interior. Jean's "interior" is actually the reality for most of us. We are not chosen people; we just want to find a good job, buy an apartment, and live our lives within our own social circles.
However, the plot tells us that when the world begins to collapse, so-called safety is utterly unbearable. In the Battle of Trost District, Jean witnessed countless comrades die tragically. What shocked him the most was seeing his best friend, Marco, turn into a mangled corpse with only half his body remaining. Looking at Marco's ashes, Jean broke down. It wasn't for some grand cause, nor was it simply sadness; it was because Marco's death brutally shattered his fantasy of the interior. He deeply understood that if he continued to hide to escape, he would become like Marco. Therefore, Jean abandoned his desire for safety and chose to join the highly dangerous Survey Corps.
Jean's growth represents the first cruel truth of entering society. You think that by playing by society's symbolic rules, you can live a safe life. But when the iron fist of reality strikes, you finally realize the true world, full of blood and suffering.
But here's the problem: since the outside world is so dangerous and painful, why do the Survey Corps members still rush to their deaths? Why do we, in reality, endure grievances and still persevere in this cruel society? This answer is provided by another highly philosophical character. In the third season, before Erwin Smith's death, he spoke a most moving passage to Levi while leaning against a tree.
This passage reveals the fundamental logic of human survival. Why do we endure? Because the real world is too painful, too absurd. We must find something to motivate ourselves, to give us the drive to get up every day and face this cruel world. In Lacan's psychoanalysis, there is a specific term for this thing we use to motivate ourselves: the "objet petit a" (object little a). This term is an abbreviation and means "the other" or "for the sake of." To make it easier for everyone to understand, we will refer to it as "little a" from now on.
Humans, after being born and leaving the womb, experience an eternal void in their souls. We spend our entire lives consciously searching for something to fill this void. And this "little a" is the ultimate solution we fantasize about. For Commander Erwin, his "little a" was to reach the basement and prove the truth. For Eren, his "little a" was to gain Titan power and see if he would become like them. For us adults in reality, this "little a" might be a luxurious mansion worth tens of millions, a perfect partner, or an eight-figure sum in our bank account.
Society and capitalism are constantly pushing different "little a's" onto us. They tell you that as long as you buy this, achieve that position, your life will be fulfilled. You think you genuinely want to get good grades and buy a house, but in reality, those desires are directly implanted into your brain by society and others. Just like Eren, he initially didn't know there was a sea outside the walls. It was Auntie (referring to Carla, Eren's mother) who, holding a book, told him there was a vast ocean outside, a sea full of saltwater. Auntie's book helped Eren envision a perfect fantasy, turning the sea and freedom into the "little a" that Eren pursued his entire life. Because of this "little a" deep within him, Eren and the Survey Corps could endure the fear of tearing themselves apart, charging into battle again and again.
Similarly, for Hong Kong people, we are told that as long as we climb over society's walls, there will be freedom and wealth in the future. We endure the longest working hours and the most absurd housing prices. We project all our fantasies of happiness, escape, and perfection onto this "little a." As long as the sea exists, as long as the goal is not yet achieved, we have a powerful motivation to live.
But the most cruel aspect of Lacan's theory is precisely here: the "objet petit a" can drive people forward because it is unattainable. The essence of desire is not to be satisfied, but to maintain desire itself. An idealist is most full of vitality not at the moment their ideal is realized, but during the passionate pursuit of that ideal. Because in the process of pursuit, the fantasy remains perfect and flawless.
But what happens when you actually obtain it? Why did Eren collapse completely when he reached the sea? At the end, Eren and the battered Survey Corps, after experiencing countless deaths and separations, finally succeeded in retaking Wall Maria and clearing all the Titans from within the walls. They finally broke through the walls that had confined humanity for eighty years. Riding horses, they walked step by step towards the place described in Auntie's book. They finally saw it.
Armin stepped into the clear seawater and laughed like a child, so happy. He picked up a shell and joyfully said to Eren, "Eren, look, there really is a sea outside the walls!" Armin had obtained his "little a"; he was satisfied. But the camera then turned to Eren. Eren's expression showed no excitement, no emotion, no relief. His eyes were vacant. The boundless sea blew through his hair. He raised his finger and pointed to the other side of the sea, saying the most chilling sentence in this masterpiece of masterpieces.
This is because, at this moment, Eren touched the most terrifying domain of Lacanian psychoanalysis. The "real" is the imagination of the sea's beauty. The "symbolic" is the rules of society's walls. Then the "real" is the universe that cannot be described by words, is illogical, cruel, and even meaningless. The "real" is usually perfectly masked by what we imagine. But once the mask is broken, the "real" will tear apart our minds like a beast.
Why did Eren change? Because the moment he truly stood by the sea, he discovered that the sea was not a symbol of freedom at all. It was just a pile of very salty water. The freedom Auntie spoke of in her book simply did not exist. Through his father's memories, Eren already knew that the other side of the sea was not a paradise, but a powerful empire called Marley. The people there were considered demons, and the whole world wanted to destroy them. Eren paid the price of his mother being eaten, paid the price of countless comrades dying tragically, paid with his youth and his adolescence. He had been deceiving himself, thinking that as long as he reached the sea, it would be enough. But upon reaching the sea, the truth poured down: the world outside the walls was a super-ship made of human evil, political calculations, and endless hatred.
Let's bring this scene back to our reality. Think about how similar this scene is to the predicament we face after entering society. When we were young, studying hard, adults told us that as long as you get into university, you'll be free. But after graduating and starting work, you discover that society is just another fiercely competitive marketplace. You endure your boss's abuse and PUA. You tell yourself, "As long as I endure and become a manager, as long as I earn tens of thousands a month, I won't have to worry anymore." But when you finally get promoted, you realize you've only gone from being a bottom-level pawn to a mid-level executive. You need more money, you have to deal with dark office politics. You've climbed over the lower-level wall, and what awaits you are greater power struggles among the higher-ups. You save every penny, afraid to even go on vacation, all to save up for a down payment on a house. You think, "As long as I get on the property ladder and have my own place, I'll be happy." But the moment you finally get the keys, you look at that cramped apartment of a few hundred square feet and suddenly realize what's on the other side of the sea: 30 years of mortgage debt, the invisible pressure of interest rate hikes. You get married, thinking you've found a lifelong harbor, but the other side of the sea is the wear and tear of daily life, the friction of family, the heavy burden of raising children, and the realization of death.
This gap between expectation and reality can kill people. Lacan says that the moment "little a" is truly obtained is the beginning of the subject's collapse. This is because the entire spiritual anchor of your life disappears. You always thought you were unhappy because you hadn't obtained it, but in the end, after achieving everything society defined, you find yourself still unhappy, even more empty than before. You finally realize that there was never a destination called freedom or perfection. The essence of life is a continuous process of crossing one wall, only to discover another higher, thicker, and more brutal wall.
The scene where Eren points to the other side of the sea is the complete death of an idealist's soul and the instantaneous birth of a nihilistic being. When the illusion is shattered, Eren cannot bear the weight of the real. He chooses to go to extremes. Since everyone on the other side of the sea is an enemy, and since the world is inherently cruel, he has no choice but to launch the Rumbling, to overturn the entire world outside the walls.
When we are beaten down by society and finally see our own cruel sea, what can we do? We cannot, like Eren, launch a force to destroy the world. Many people, after experiencing the disillusionment of their ideals, fall into deep depression. Some begin to indulge in dopamine stimulation. Some become the petty adults they once despised. Others, like Jean, force themselves to go to work and then go home, their souls having long since died on the road to the sea.
However, Xin Liu Suo is not explaining this cruel Lacanian psychology to make you despair. On the contrary, seeing the truth clearly is the beginning of true strength. As the French philosopher Albert Camus said, there is only one true heroism in the world: to recognize the truth of life and still love it.
In Lacan's theory, when we encounter the trauma of the "real," although it is destructive, it is also our only opportunity to be liberated from the desires of others. When you realize that buying a house, getting promoted, and getting married – these "little a's" that society feeds you – cannot bring you ultimate happiness, only then can you stop blindly chasing these superficial standards. Only then can you ask yourself: If the other side of the sea is just another battlefield, then what am I fighting for now?
Jean, like Eren, saw early on that so-called safety was just a false facade. But he still chose to pick up his sword to protect the people around him, just like Commander Erwin. In his final moments, for the greater good, he voluntarily abandoned his dream of reaching the basement and led his soldiers into hell. True maturity is not an unrealistic beautiful fantasy about the world, but accepting the world's flaws and cruelty. It is knowing that there are enemies on the other side of the sea, office politics, and economic crises, but still having the courage to build your own defense mechanism. You no longer strive for society's expectations; you begin to set the rules of the game for yourself. You learn how to elegantly protect yourself in this real world full of power struggles, how to protect the people you truly care about.
The other side of the sea is indeed cruel, but at least you are no longer the ignorant pawn you once were. You finally have the right to confront the deep abyss. When you see through that the other side of the sea is just another battlefield, you can choose to go to extremes like Eren, but you can also choose your own path.
If you like our analysis, please give us a like and subscribe. If you'd like to buy us a coffee or two, we'll continue to interpret stocks for everyone at Ye Ye. You can also join as a paid researcher to get exclusive content and previous maps and background music. See you in the next episode.