ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I am a first-year student in the Health and Life Sciences program with a strong passion for a career that merges healthcare with humanitarian advocacy. I would first like to express my sincere gratitude to Professor Jay Shea and Professor Gregory Polakoff for their dedication to providing insightful and thought-provoking material in the World as Stage and Screen Reflections class last fall.

Throughout history, certain strands of Western philosophy have contributed to hierarchical thinking, reinforcing the idea that some individuals or groups hold superiority over others in relationships. However, by analyzing Beckett’s play Endgame, my essay argues the opposite: human relationships are far more complex, and whether we acknowledge it or not, we are all deeply interconnected. We are, in essence, parasites bound to one another—a reality rooted in both biology and psychology.

–Bassma Al Atrache

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Samuel Beckett’s Endgame explores the uneasy relationship between Hamm, a blind and controlling master, and Clov, a servant unable to sit down and trapped in his role. Their parasitic bond complicates traditional notions of hierarchy: Hamm relies on Clov for survival, depending on him for movement and companionship, while Clov, though seemingly in a position of power as the provider, is equally trapped, unable to leave despite his desire to escape. This mutual dependency blurs the lines between dominance and submission, reflecting how power and dependency coexist within relationships. This dynamic reflects posthumanist ideas, as Diane Marie Keeling and Marguerite Nguyen Lehman explain in their article “Posthumanism,” published in the Oxford Research Encyclopedias: “Humanist assumptions concerning the human are infused throughout Western philosophy and reinforce a nature/culture dualism where human culture is distinct from nature. In contrast, a posthumanist scholar rejects this dichotomy through understanding the human as entangled with its environment.” Hamm and Clov’s fragmented identities and their post-apocalyptic setting serve as metaphors for this entanglement, as the two characters are bound to each other in a cycle neither can break. Their parasitic relationship reveals a deeper truth: regardless of one’s perceived position in a hierarchy, relationships often bind individuals in ways that make them interdependent, eroding notions of absolute power or autonomy. This essay will explore how Endgame portrays Hamm as the parasitic master and Clov as the burdened host, highlighting how their roles ultimately fail to establish true power for either character.

One striking aspect of Endgame is Clov’s desperate plea for relief—he begs Hamm to stop, to stop toying with him, manipulating his thoughts, and commanding his every move. This dialogue unfolds as Clov, burdened by the weight of his servitude, makes an impassioned plea to escape the endless cycle of their toxic relationship, only to be met with Hamm’s manipulative refusal to relinquish control:

           CLOV [Imploringly.] Let’s stop playing!

           HAMM Never! [Pause.] Put me in my coffin.

           CLOV There are no more coffins.

           HAMM Then let it end! [Clov goes towards ladder.] With a bang!

           [Clov gets up on ladder, gets down again, looks for telescope, sees it, picks it

           up, gets up ladder, raises telescope.] Of Darkness! And me? Did anyone ever

           have pity on me?                                                                                 (Beckett 2485)

This exchange encapsulates Hamm’s role as the parasite by revealing his dependence on Clov, both physically and emotionally, while sustaining the illusion of control. Clov’s desperate plea, “Let’s stop playing!” reflects his awareness of their toxic dynamic and his yearning to break free. The word “playing” highlights the performative nature of their relationship, where Hamm’s authority is maintained through a repetitive charade rather than genuine power. Moreover, Hamm’s response, “Never! Put me in my coffin,” underscores his refusal to relinquish control and his reliance on Clov for even the most basic actions, including preparing for death. His dependency becomes glaring when Clov replies, “There are no more coffins,” exposing the futility of Hamm’s demands in this barren, post-apocalyptic world. Hamm’s survival hinges on Clov’s presence and actions, even when those actions are impossible. Hamm’s subsequent cry, “Then let it end! … Of Darkness! And me? Did anyone ever have pity on me?” reveals his parasitism at a deeper emotional level. By shifting focus to his own suffering and invoking pity, Hamm manipulates Clov into continuing his servitude out of guilt or obligation. This rhetorical move sustains Hamm’s fragile sense of identity and control, ensuring that Clov remains tethered to him. Within the context of their desolate world, this interaction emphasizes the parasitic core of Hamm’s character. He thrives on Clov’s labor, attention, and emotional capacity to sustain his existence, blurring the boundaries between dominance and dependence.

Hamm is undeniably controlling and parasitic, so why does Clov remain by his side? During one of the many cyclical and futile exchanges between Hamm and Clov, Clov’s frustration with their toxic interdependence surfaces, yet he remains unable to break free from Hamm’s manipulative hold:

           CLOV So you all want me to leave you.

           HAMM Naturally.

           CLOV Then I’ll leave you.

           HAMM You can’t leave us.

           CLOV Then I won’t leave you. [Pause.]

           HAMM Why don’t you finish us? [Pause.] I’ll tell you the

           combination of the cupboard if you promise to finish me. [Pause.]

           CLOV I’ll leave you, I have things to do.                                   (2472)

This dialogue showcases Clov as the burdened host in his relationship with Hamm, emphasizing his entrapment and reluctant obligation to sustain Hamm’s existence. Clov’s statement, “So you all want me to leave you,” reflects his frustration with the parasitic dynamic. The use of “you all” suggests that Hamm’s demands represent the weight of an entire oppressive system. Yet, despite his apparent willingness to leave, Hamm’s retort, “You can’t leave us,” highlights Clov’s inability to break free, reinforcing his role as the host bound to sustain Hamm. Hamm’s plea, “Why don’t you finish us?” further complicates this dynamic. By offering Clov “the combination of the cupboard” in exchange for being “finished,” Hamm paradoxically appeals to Clov as both his provider and potential liberator. This manipulative offer underscores Hamm’s complete dependency on Clov, even for his death, while trapping Clov in a moral and existential dilemma—escape would mean abandoning his role as caretaker. Clov’s final words, “I’ll leave you, I have things to do,” are an empty assertion of autonomy, as the cyclical structure of their interaction makes it clear that he cannot truly leave. Clov embodies the burdened host, forced to sustain a parasite he resents yet cannot escape.

Upon closer reading, it becomes clear that while Hamm and Clov’s world seems to operate within a hierarchical structure, the brilliance of Endgame lies in exposing the illusion of such hierarchies. Arguably, the interconnectedness of human relationships is summarized by Hamm’s dark humour:  “Use your head, can’t you, use your head, you’re on earth, and there is no cure for that! [Pause.]” (2477). In a way, the play critiques the humanist notion of humanity as the central focus of the universe. In truth, humans lack a clear sense of purpose—our actions often amount to performing meaningless tasks to achieve equally meaningless ends. This perspective may seem bleak, but it’s not entirely pessimistic. Rather than despair, the play invites acceptance of the human condition as it is: a state of entanglement, dependency, and inescapable connection. By confronting humanity’s inability to resolve life’s fundamental problems, Endgame challenges us to move beyond illusions of autonomy and power, embracing a vision of interconnected existence. In the end, it is neither Hamm’s controlling role nor Clov’s dependency that defines their relationship; it is the truth that these roles blur and dissolve, leaving only the inescapable reality of human entanglement—a reality that, as posthumanism suggests, we must learn to accept.

In conclusion, in Endgame, Beckett dismantles the illusion of clear hierarchies and roles, presenting a stark yet profound vision of human relationships. While Hamm’s authority and Clov’s servitude seem to form a hierarchy, their cyclical exchanges reveal the futility of such distinctions. Hamm’s survival depends entirely on Clov, while Clov, despite his mobility and ability to provide, cannot escape the gravitational pull of Hamm’s presence. This dynamic aligns with Beckett’s critique of humanism: the belief in humanity as the central force in the universe is exposed as hollow when stripped to its essence. Hamm and Clov are trapped in a meaningless routine, performing roles that perpetuate their existence but lack ultimate purpose. Their struggles reflect the broader human condition—a life spent trying to impose meaning where none inherently exists. Yet Beckett’s vision is not entirely pessimistic. By exposing these truths, Endgame invites acceptance of life’s interconnectedness and absurdity. In the end, it’s not power or autonomy that defines Hamm and Clov’s relationship, but their shared entrapment in the human condition. Beckett urges us to confront this reality—not to despair, but to find solace in accepting human relationships as they are.

 

Works Cited

Beckett, Samuel. Endgame: A Play in One Act, Followed By Act Without Words, a Mime for One Player. Translated From the French By the Author. New York, Grove Press, 1970.

Keeling, Diane Marie, and Marguerite Nguyen Lehman. “Posthumanism.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Communication. April 26, 2018. Oxford University Press. https://oxfordre.com/communication/view/10.1093/acrefore/9780190228613.001.0001/acrefore-9780190228613-e-627.