Buffy’s Bout with “Helpless” –ness
Peter Barry, in Beginning Theory, writes, “culture… can be ‘read’ like a language… since culture is made up of many structural networks which carry significance and can be shown to operate in a systematic way. These networks operate through ‘codes’ as a system of signs; they can make statements, just as language does, and they can be read or decoded by the structuralist.”[1] Buffy’s life-threatening rite of passage in season three’s episode “Helpless,” then, can be read within the larger framework of postmodern American cultural rites of passage.
Let’s first look at the big picture: What is a rite of passage?
Simply put, "rites of passage are a category of rituals that mark the passage of a person through the life cycle, from one stage to another over time, from one role or social position to another." The purpose of these rites—aside from the variety with which they are enacted—is also pretty basic: "It is through rites of passage that people are able to contemplate, to formulate and reformulate, their ambivalent condition of animal and human."[2] From this we can conclude that, generally speaking, any rite of passage serves to mark a stage of psychological, sociological, and/or spiritual development—anything outside the basic biological fact of existence.
Taking this general context of human rites, we can drill down further into the meat of rites by turning to Joseph Campbell. According to Campbell, “rites of passage, which occupy such a prominent place in the life of a primitive society (ceremonials of birth, naming, puberty, marriage, burial, etc.), are distinguished by formal, and usually very severe, exercises of severance, where-by the mind is radically cut away from the attitudes, attachments, and life patterns of the stage being left behind.”[3]
When Campbell denotes “primitive society” and “very severe... exercises of severance” he is, of course, referring to cultures or societies that practiced or still practice severe (sacred) rites of passage—ones that don’t fit within the framework of our modern world.[4] As Jeremy Northcote notes, “such formal initiation ceremonies are not seen to be prevalent in advanced industrial societies.” If, as Northcote continues, current “status-marking events” neglect to truly serve passage for modern youth, leaving them “uncertain of their precise [social] status” and “lacking a clear transitional path,” then we are left questioning the very existence and continuance of modern rites.[5]
However, from a structuralist standpoint, any time we invoke the notion of a “rite of passage,” we are pulling from a pre-existing structure that has its foundation in exactly what Campbell tells us: rites serve as symbolic severance from a past condition or state of being.
In our postmodern world, we’ve kept the phrase but have watered down its meaning. We have swapped rites for events (to borrow Northcote’s choice of phrasing). For us, rites of passage are not necessarily sacred, and involve much less ritual and severity. When I’ve asked my students to describe their “rites of passage,” I’ve been met with either a generalized account of maturation, or a specific event, such as the obtaining of a driver’s license. These, by
The sense of the sacred also bears mentioning because most of what we continue to call rites of passage are attached to a liminal notion of the sacred. Take for instance baptism, which is necessarily sacred. This is a ritual most modern American Christians practice; it is a sacred rite. Yet, the sense of the sacred is questionable given the age of the child and the circumstances surrounding the baptism. The rite is observed primarily for the parents’ sake and merely involves a kind of sacred solemnity.[7] The symbolic severance is minimal.
What we’re left with, then are rites of passage that are divorced from severity and the sacred—in a sense their locus of meaning has been displaced. So, let’s call this a watering down of rites of passage, or playing dress-up. We have a structure of passage in place, but that structure functions much like dressing up on Halloween. When Americans observe Halloween, we dress in costumes and assume personae comparable with our outward appearances. The result is most entertaining and, from a visual standpoint, the effect is somewhat (anachronistically) convincing. But the reality of such exercises is far from the reality invoked. This is analogous to our modern rites of passage. A driver’s road test is certainly no match for a teenage ritual circumcision.
Here’s the problem: Our “dress-up” is more myth and nostalgia than reverence for and understanding of the past. Our invocation of rites of passage in dress-up fashion are ritual without significance. History and common sense should both tell us this is a bad combination.[8]
I raise all of these points as a precursor to discussing Buffy’s rite of passage in “Helpless” because I need to invoke the underlying structure of postmodern American rites in order to illustrate the significance of Buffy’s subversion: She, ultimately, refuses to play dress-up and dispels the charade. As a contemporary feminist hero, she not only completes the rite but breaks the tradition in the process.[9]
First, we must identify Buffy’s rite of passage. Though it is referred to as such in the episode, I’ll match it to Campbell’s definition: “rites of passage… are distinguished by formal, and usually very severe, exercises of severance, where-by the mind is radically cut away from the attitudes, attachments, and life patterns of the stage being left behind.”[10]
Formality
Buffy’s trial comes on her 18th birthday and stems from a longstanding tradition for slayers. Each slayer, we are told, must be put to a test on her 18th birthday—both to test her abilities and to mark her transition into adulthood. The test involves Buffy first being stripped of her “superpowers,” and second, being trapped in a house with a particularly virile vampire. Buffy passes her test if she successfully defeats the vampire. If she’s successful, her powers are restored and she officially comes of age as a slayer.
If she doesn’t succeed, she dies.
The formality of the ritual is witnessed as the episode unfolds. For the first time in the series history, we are introduced to the “Watcher’s Council,” the governing body of the slayer’s own watcher, Rupert Giles. Until now, the audience hasn’t been aware of the Council’s existence. The show has made passing reference to a “Slayer’s Handbook,” and we’ve been privy to a peek at Giles’s own training and history, but much of the watcher/slayer relationship has merely been alluded to. There’s a slayer; she has a watcher. That’s it.
With “Helpless,” we get more. In fact, a delegation from the Watcher’s Council is sent to Sunnydale to oversee the events. The delegation brings with them the vampire who will be the focus of Buffy’s test, and Quentin Travers (Harris Yulin), director of the Council, monitors the events. Travers is a stodgy, by-the-books talking head who quickly asserts his power over Giles, reminding Buffy’s watcher that his loyalty is to the Council.[11] In season two of the show, we learn that Giles is not as prim and proper as we’ve been led to believe—or at least, his own stodgy-ness is balanced by a dark past and a deep, fatherly love for Buffy. In “Helpless,” however, we see what we’ve come to know and feel about Giles usurped by Travers’s.
I mention this because the formal operation of Buffy’s ritual is established by this filling out of the origins and workings of the slayer/watcher relationship. By inserting this hierarchical order into the Buffyverse the writer of the episode, David Fury, alludes to what Joseph Campbell notes regarding the societal function of ritual: “All participate in the ceremonial according to rank and function. The whole society becomes visible to itself as an imperishable living unit. Generations of individuals pass, like anonymous cells from a living body; but the sustaining, timeless form remains.”[12] Prior to the arrival of Travers and his gang of Council cronies, Buffy and Giles seem to be operating outside the societal framework of Sunnydale. Actually, we are continually reminded that Buffy is ostensibly alone. Travers’s entrance signifies a reversion of this assumption. Buffy is not alone. In fact, the long line of slayers—though singular in their existence—is accompanied by an elaborate structural framework.
We see that—through Travers—the traditional relationship between slayer and watcher is modeled as a working relationship, of employee and supervisor (community elders to neophytes).[13] Travers even scolds Giles: “Your affection for your charge has rendered you incapable of clear and impartial judgment. You have a father's love for the child, and that is useless to the cause.” The “cause” is code for guiding principle. Much as a ritual might indicate a need to order (indoctrinate) a community, the “cause” of the Watcher’s Council is its reason for existence and, as such, motivates its actions. Buffy, then, is the initiate to the cause and her transition through this rite is crucial to the structure of the Buffyverse.
This is indicative of the main function of rites of passage: “In the extreme expression of the interdependence between the individual and his or her social group, the initiate is construed as a microcosm of society, and what is enacted by or upon the individual is thought to transform the collectivity.”[14] Buffy’s rite, then, is clearly enacted as a microcosmic experience that reinforces the general conceit of the show.
Severance
The ritual itself is particularly cruel—and, for my purposes here, wildly fitting to the definition of a traditional rite of passage. Buffy’s severance comes in the form of an injection which renders her Slayer powers ineffective. This gives the rite of passage a physical reality to match its need to “radically cut away from the attitudes, attachments, and life patterns of the stage being left behind.” The purpose of the rite is to signal Buffy’s transition into adulthood (slayerhood). By stripping her of her powers, she is physically cut away from the attitudes and attachments that she might be inclined to rely upon.
The physicality, when it comes to Buffy, is also representative of the necessary psychological severance. Buffy’s powers, we are led to believe, are at the core of what makes her the slayer. She is the slayer because she’s the one with the powers, the chosen one. Remove those powers (physical severance) and she ceases to be the slayer (psychological severance).
This clearly serves the purpose of the rite: “[Rites of passage] foster the arousal of self-conscious questioning… Individuals (as well as the society itself) may be moved to the edge of profound self-investigation and exploration.” In fact, the episode offers us plenty of evidence to reinforce this questioning of self. Buffy is, at first, somewhat relieved by the notion that she has become “normal” again. She has struggled for two years now to come to terms with her role in life—being denied a comfortable teenage existence—and now, stripped of her powers, she gets what she’s wanted.
This quickly changes, however. In a most revelatory respect, losing her powers shows Buffy just how much she has grown as a slayer—despite her protestations to the contrary. Faced with not being the slayer, she comes to appreciate her lot in life much more. Surely, and this is true of life in general, she wrestles with her identity throughout the course of her existence (a la the show), but this rite serves to mark her first major life transition.
It’s not that simple, though. The severity of Buffy’s rite goes beyond simply invoking self-reflection and passing a road test. We must keep in mind that the slayer’s superpowers even the playing field in regards to vampire and demon slaying. Buffy is not necessarily stronger than her victims; she has simply been vested with a power like theirs. Removing this power puts her on the level of regular humans—humans who are, nine times out of ten, easy prey.
Add to this that Buffy’s “test” involves a criminally insane vampire with mommy issues. The Watcher’s Council keeps said test subject, Kralik, heavily sedated, boxed up, and strapped down. Fighting a “regular” vampire without her powers might serve as test enough, but the Council takes the rite a step further, making this a most severe exercise in passage.
Now, it also bears mentioning that proof of this severity comes with the Council’s inability to contain its test subject.[15] Kralik’s ability to break free of his controlled environment proves regular humans are no match for his strength and cunning. In classic television fashion, though, Kralik chooses to play along with the test—even though he has killed and turned his captors.
One more point about severance: I’ve made much of the physicality of Buffy’s severance. It is, after all, the centerpiece of the ritual. A true slayer, if the rite be proved, should come out victorious even without her powers—because a “true” slayer is more than just her superpowers. I’ll return to that notion later, but for now, let me mention the additional psychological goodies: If the ritual was conducted without assistance from Giles, then my analysis might not be complete. Luckily for me, Whedon and Fury have made this rite about more than just empty, formal ritual.
Giles is the key facilitator. He is the one who injects Buffy, thereby disabling her.
This serves the ritual best because Giles is not just Buffy’s Watcher. Buffy is the slayer, the one with the powers, but her reliance on Giles assistance goes beyond that of employer and employee. Giles has become Buffy’s requisite father. As such, his role in the ritual multiplies the stakes: Buffy’s rite is ultimately invoked by her father. By injecting his daughter, Giles “radically” cuts Buffy “away from the attitudes, attachments, and life patterns of the stage being left behind.” Furthermore, by stepping aside to let the ritual commence, he is clearly detaching himself to let Buffy succeed or fail on her own.
I’ll add that Giles-as-father is reinforced by the pairing of his father-ness with Buffy’s biological father’s lack of father-ness. Prior to this episode, we’ve had evidence that Buffy’s real father, Hank Summers, is a deadbeat; this is substantiated in “Helpless” by a broken promise to take Buffy to an ice show for her birthday.[16] Here again, Buffy’s rite is doubled: She is separated from both of her fathers.
Since I’m talking about fathers, I might as well talk about mothers: Kralik’s “mommy issues” are an interesting addition to this episode. I’m not sure there is much more to talk about here, but it is curious that Kralik’s subversion of the initial plan winds up incorporating Buffy’s mother into the fray. Buffy is betrayed by her father(s) and must save her mother. Interesting.
Turnabout Is Fair Play
Buffy passes the test.
I’ve been intentionally cagey; All is not as I’ve made it seem.
In fact, what I find most brilliant about this episode is that it manages to take models of traditional rites of passage and turn them on their head: Giles breaks the integrity of the rite; Buffy rejects the resultant incorporation that is her reward for completing the ritual.
The quote from Travers that I used above is a key to breakdown: Giles spills the beans to Buffy. Because he is fatherly to her, he can’t bear to see the torment that his role in the ritual has caused her. Her self-reflection (most important to the rite) is what leads Giles to explain his role in stripping Buffy of her powers.
The integrity of the test is thus compromised.
But, as with Kralik’s deviation from—but continuance of—the test, Buffy still must perform. The stakes are heightened when we learn that Joyce Summers has been folded into the situation.
Now, where does this leave us? Buffy passes the test. Through her own cunning and sense of purpose, she is able to defeat Kralik. In the parting sequence of the episode, Travers smugly notes that Buffy has passed the test—but Giles has not. Giles is relieved of his duties as Watcher because he was unable to fulfill his role in the test.
But what about Buffy? Yes, she’s passed, but what does it mean?
Traditional rites of passage have a “fundamental tripartite form[…]: separation, transition, and incorporation.” The point is for the person “to be separated from one role” so that he/she can “be incorporated into a new one.”[17] The ritual, as outlined by the Council, is meant to transition a slayer from apprentice (or neophyte) to tradesman—employed and loyal to the Council. Buffy is separated from her childhood reliance on her Watcher so that she can be incorporated into the hierarchy of the Watcher’s Council.
Buffy’s response, of course is “Bite me.”
But where does this leave us? What has really changed? Has Buffy really become something different? Did the rite of passage succeed in transitioning Buffy from one stage to the next?
Let’s try to answer some of these questions.
True, Giles gets fired, and Buffy passes her test (regaining her powers and, later in the season, a new Watcher), but as Buffy herself tells Willow at the end of the episode: “You know, nothing is really going to change.” Giles will continue to serve as Buffy’s watcher, if not in an official capacity (he is later reinstated in season five), and the season will progress much like it began—much like any other season. Buffy is still a high school student, and she still relies on her friends and Watcher. So what has changed?
We could ask this of any rite of passage. Think about the tradition of Bar Mitzvah. In a completely empirical, reasonable way, very little real change occurs. Twelve and thirteen are the ages of Bar/Bat Mitzvah transition, and are meant to coincide with puberty. But, as we well know, puberty is not something that can truly be defined by age—and it certainly does not happen overnight. Not all children “come of age” biologically at the same time. As such, the arbitrariness of age is highlighted. We could easily say the same about Buffy’s rite of passage at eighteen.
On a purely practical level, then, we have to admit that while major events provoke change, those changes are not sudden or complete. In the case of a ritual, like a Bar Mitzvah, we have to concede that prior to and shortly after the ritual occurs little really changes. In the end, we go through the motions, have the party, and then continue on as before but slightly different.
In Buffy’s case, not much really changes in regards to her physical reality.
However, “physical” is the key.
Real change occurs not in grand dramatic moments but in successive, small events. In the case of Buffy’s ritual, the changes set in motion by her ritual are not immediately apparent—to her, or those around her—but something has indeed changed.
Let’s go back to the point of ritual. Surely the Council enacts this ritual not out of a sense of obligation or spiritual need. Tradition is a source, definitely, but that tradition springs from a very important place: Power. For the Council, this ritual represents an important turning point, a point at which indoctrination/initiation solidifies the relationship between Watcher and Slayer. Buffy’s ritual represents the point at which she becomes a company man. From the Council’s point of view, the ritual represents the point at which Buffy declares her allegiance to—and thereby submission to—the Council’s authority.
All of this leads to a rather enlightening notion (one that has already been touched upon above): “Whether or not rites of passage, or any ritual activity, is necessary to human existence is a debatable matter, yet rites of passage do provide for and fulfill at least one crucial task: that of inculcating a society’s rules and values to those who are to become its full-fledged members.”[18] When Travers and the boys waltz into town, their sole purpose is to inculcate Buffy. Their formality, the ritual’s severity, and even Giles’s firing, all serve to reinforce Buffy’s place in the world. Yes, she is the chosen one—but she must take orders from the council. And now, as an adult, she needn’t question her place in the food chain.
Buffy’s response (again): “Bite me.”
And that’s where the “rites subverted” really culminates. Buffy, as I’ve illustrated here, partakes in a very traditional, severe, ritual of severance, one designed to incorporate her into the power structure of the Watcher’s Council. Her teacher and father figure, Giles, partakes in the ritual, thereby validating it. She successfully completes the tasks set before her.
But she is not incorporated.
The tripartite formula of ritual is not fulfilled. The Council is successful in initiating Buffy’s separation; the process of the ritual—including Giles transgression of it—secures Buffy’s transition; the result is not incorporation but rather further separation.
Check. Rite subverted.
The Problem of Now
All of this leads me to a somewhat depressing conclusion: Advanced industrial societies are incapable of fulfilling the tripartite ritual of passage because the individual cannot be revered if incorporation is the goal. That is, modern status-marking events—such as obtaining drivers’ licenses and voting—have little to do with community establishment and reinforcement. By privileging the individual, we’ve lost the society.
Now, in the case of Buffy, we see the complications of this: Clearly, the establishment that she debunks is worth debunking. Travers’s masculine, even misogynistic, authority is not about establishing community (though he professes the value of the cause), but about order driven by a short-sighted patriarchal power structure. Buffy’s separation instead of incorporation is representative of the modern dilemma: How does one become an enlightened individual while remaining part of a community?
In “Helpless,” Buffy does the right thing by dismantling unnecessary tradition. This very notion is ultimately fulfilled by the conclusion of the series: Buffy not only debunks tradition but saves the world by establishing a new order out of the ruins of the old. As such, “Helpless” illustrates the transformative power of ritual while at the same time exposes the faults inherent in traditional power and social structures.
And that’s why I love this show.
[1] Peter Barry, Beginning Theory.
[2] "Rites of Passage." Encyclopedia of Religion. Ed. Lindsay Jones. Vol. 11. 2nd ed. Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2005. 7795-7796.
[3] Joseph Campbell, The Hero With A Thousand Faces.
[4] I use this phrase to encompass, in a general way, American culture as we experience it at the moment.
[5] Jeremy Northcote, “Nightclubbing and the Search for Identity: Making the Transition from Childhood to Adulthood in an Urban Milieu,” Journal of Youth Studies, February 2006, p. 1.
[6] Northcote, p. 1.
[7] Solemnity seems to have replaced our traditional sense of the sacred. Think about “moments of silence.” Silence now stands in for the sacred, and in a ritual baptism there is much ritual but little substance. I speak, of course, from personal experience…
[8] Take for instance the use of “nigger.” In discussion of diversity and tolerance in the classroom, I’ve talked about the danger of phrases like “My grandfather was a good guy, but he was a racist.” True, we are often confronted with such cultural paradoxes (anachronisms, even), but the danger lies in the subtle grafting: The good “racist,” and by extension the acceptable use of the word “nigger,” is a person (or word) without significance—or racist (nigger) under erasure. By invoking the phrase “rite of passage” in regards to a modern “rite” like a driver’s license test, we create a sociological misnomer: The severity of ritual circumcision is put in contrast to a silly driving test and now we have a misunderstanding that leads to colonization.
[9] Turning and turning again: Buffy’s rite, as I will discuss later, actually functions more like a traditional rite than those we’ve come to see as normal.
[10] Emphasis mine.
[11] It might bear mentioning that Travers represents a classic notion of masculine power. As the head of the council, he assumes a position above Buffy—even though she is clearly the one with the power. This relationship plays out, to some extent, in this episode, but is further explored later in the series.
[12] Campbell, Hero, p. 383.
[13] I seem to be drawn to a “work” model here. In drafting, I originally wrote “corporate” instead of “hierarchical.” Bears footnoting: Harkening back to Campbell, I’m reminded of his comments in The Power of Myth regarding societal power moves from church led to government led to economy led structures. If we take this as a viable concept, then my predilection to equate work with community (or church) seems like a reasonable thought.
[14] "Rites of Passage," p. 7796.
[15] I can’t help but note my desire to end “subject” with an “s” because both Kralik and Buffy don’t play by the rules!
[16] There’s even a sad note when Buffy receives only the gift of tickets from her father—and not his actual presence. Buffy heartbreakingly dances around the prospect of Giles taking her to the show, but his guilt clouds him from the offer.
[17] "Rites of Passage," p. 7797. This is analogous, too, with Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey cycle: departure—fulfillment—return.
[18] "Rites of Passage," p. 7798.
