Margaret Atwood’s classic dystopian novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, shows a population ground down by an authoritarian government. It depicts in depth the psychological effects of this regime on the main character, Offred—especially the destruction of her self-esteem. By examining this relationship, we can better understand the vital connection between liberty and emotional well-being.
In the book, the theocratic Republic of Gilead aims to limit people to designated roles in society. It forces citizens to wear the uniform of their government-appointed position. It assigns men jobs, and it places each woman into a household. It marries off young adults that the regime favors to government-approved spouses a dozen at a time. These dehumanizing practices are part of Gilead’s efforts to degrade individuals as much as possible to mold them into obedient citizens who submit to their leaders’ plans for population growth and territorial expansion.
These practices hinder each individual’s ability to form and maintain a moral character, a strong sense of self, and personal connections—all key components of forming strong self-esteem—and thereby maintaining Gilead’s iron grip on the country. As with many great works of fiction, The Handmaid’s Tale has a lot to teach us about the real world—in this case, partly because Atwood took inspiration from real-life tyrannical regimes. Here are some key lessons about self-esteem that we can derive from the book.
Esteeming Yourself Requires Knowing That You’re Good
The most striking aspect of Gilead’s tyranny is its treatment of women. It enforces a system in which some women are systematically raped and forced to carry the resulting children to term while others are forced into household servitude. Facing a severely declining population, the Gileadean government attempted to solve the supposed problem by forcing many fertile women into the role of “Handmaids,” a euphemism for sex slaves. Each Handmaid is assigned by the Aunts (a group of nun-like women in charge of the other women) to a high-ranking man and given two tasks: the daily grocery shopping and the monthly Ceremony. During the latter, the head of her household (usually a Commander, a high-ranking officer in the government and military) attempts to impregnate her. The Ceremony is scheduled during the Handmaid’s peak fertility and features prayers, a prescribed position, and the presence of the Commander’s Wife.
This arrangement denies everyone involved the ability to act on their judgment in the most intimate area of life; even the Commanders can’t choose with whom they sleep. Savoring the joy of sex with someone who shares your values and sense of life is a celebration of your achievements and thus supportive of self-esteem; being forced into sex with a stranger—one the Handmaids aren’t even allowed to get to know—is humiliating.
This lack of choice isn’t limited to sex, however. In The Handmaid’s Tale, the government controls almost every aspect of a person’s life—from friendships to work to speech—and disobeying typically results in torture, imprisonment, or death. Under such restrictions, citizens are unable to build and maintain their moral character, which requires thinking for yourself and acting on your own judgment with integrity to your values.
In Gilead, citizens have few choices in how to respond to the dictatorship: they can obey and try to turn off their minds; obey outwardly but mentally resist; or physically resist in some way, accepting that this may mean serious punishment. They still face choices, but their choices are extremely limited by the government’s use of force. They may act bravely and rebel regardless of the consequences, deciding that it isn’t worth living a life so lacking in liberty. Or they may determine that an act of rebellion is unlikely to succeed and decide not to throw away their lives to no effect (which, depending on their context, may likewise be an act of integrity). Such decisions are serious moral dilemmas, but with a more limited range of options than that faced by free people. Free people can choose with whom to work and spend time and how to interact with those people, and the choices they make shape their character. People in Gilead simply don’t have most of those options.
Gileadeans are also unable to take genuine pride in their work. Virtually everyone in Gilead is assigned a role, and most people—especially women—are ordered to serve others, largely by performing menial tasks. Thus, most don’t regard the outcome of their efforts as genuinely valuable and so cannot experience the self-esteem that follows from knowing that their work is productive and meaningful. For others—mostly men—the work situation is arguably worse; their efforts create no value whatsoever but instead support the life-sucking regime, meaning that their time and energy are used to destroy, rather than produce, life-serving values.
The regime’s effect on self-esteem is especially vivid in the novel’s protagonist, Offred. Before the regime took over, she mused, “I used to think well of myself.”1 But at the “reeducation” center that trains women as Handmaids, she caves to the bullying and threats of the Aunts and blames a victim of rape for her suffering. After that, she can no longer say that she thinks well of herself.2 As Offred learns through this experience, to have strong self-esteem, you must believe that you are a morally good person, which enables you not only to feel good about yourself but also to deeply appreciate healthy relationships and other sources of joy. The reverse is also true; if you know, even subconsciously, that you are not a good person, you will not feel good about yourself or deserving of joy or others’ affection—this is the situation Offred finds herself in. For a real-world example, consider that a man who steals money and isn’t caught will live for the rest of his life with the knowledge that he took what wasn’t his. But an honest, hardworking man will always be able to take pride in what he has earned, even if others do not recognize his achievement.
In sum, if we want to esteem ourselves, we must make esteem-worthy decisions. In The Handmaid’s Tale, however, the Aunts and other authority figures create circumstances that put the Handmaids in a predicament similar to that of the thief. They cannot honestly earn their living, and they face heavy consequences if they act to achieve most other life-serving values.
The psychological consequences of this double-edged sword can manifest in extreme and unexpected ways. For instance, Offred finds herself longing to steal something from the sitting room of the house to which she’s assigned. Why? Not because she’s particularly fond of the object, but because she lacks the other key component of self-esteem: efficacy. Self-esteem is the knowledge not only that you are morally good and therefore deserve happiness, but also that you are efficacious and therefore deserve success—that you are able to deal with the world and right in how you do so.3 Efficacy is your ability to effect change in the world, which depends on the rationality of your goals and methods. Clearly, Offred cannot develop this in Gilead, given her inability to change her situation or accomplish much within it. Efficacy depends not only on specific skills, such as painting or coding (the Wives and Marthas are allowed to develop specific skills on this level), but the character traits that enable you to gain such skills, such as intelligence, determination, rationality, and work ethic—which nobody can develop consistently in Gilead. Because Offred has virtually no control over her life, she considers stealing something because “It would make me feel that I have power.” But, she concludes, “such a feeling would be an illusion.”4 Thankfully, those of us with greater liberty can avoid such temptations; we are free to develop a sense of efficacy through our careers, relationships, and hobbies.
In addition to erecting these barriers to developing efficacy and moral character, Gilead deliberately instills guilt in its citizens, especially women. One ubiquitous example is that the authorities blame (and teach citizens to blame) only women for being infertile if they don’t become pregnant, even though men are just as likely to be infertile given the rampant pollution that led to Gilead’s population decline.5 Women are made to feel like failures when they don’t conceive—they are told they’ve been judged unworthy by God. And if they fail to conceive enough times, they are sent to “the Colonies,” where they most likely will clean up radioactive waste and die young. Unearned guilt is toxic to self-esteem in any context, and a sure way to instill it is to teach someone that she is inferior if she doesn’t produce an outcome over which, in fact, she has no control.
Perhaps more egregious than instilling guilt for things outside a person’s control is instilling guilt for a crime committed against that person. The Gileadean authorities teach that women who are victims of rape (outside the context of the Ceremony) are to blame for their suffering. When one Handmaid-in-training shares her story of having been gang-raped as a teenager, the Aunts lead her classmates in declaring the horrific crime “her fault.”6 Offred recognizes that the regime deliberately tries to make women feel bad about themselves, but this knowledge doesn’t dampen her self-loathing. The guilt from making things worse for the poor girl eats away at her self-esteem, and she dwells on the incident.
Guilt is a powerful weapon used by those seeking to control others. People who are generally decent but feel guilty about something will accept all kinds of punishment for their wrongdoing (or supposed wrongdoing), even if it is disproportionate. Novelist Ayn Rand captured the idea eloquently through one of the villains in her magnum opus Atlas Shrugged:
There is no way to disarm any man . . . except through guilt. . . . If a man has ever stolen a dime, you can impose on him the punishment intended for a bank robber and he will take it. He’ll bear any form of misery, he’ll feel that he deserves no better. . . . He won’t defend himself. He won’t feel he’s worth it. He won’t fight.7
As though taking these words as a commandment from on high, the Gileadean regime is careful to implicate its citizens in its many crimes to ensure that they feel guilty—even if they somehow manage to follow all the strict religious laws and regulations. The most overt example of this is the practice of Particicution (a portmanteau of “participation” and “execution”), in which a “criminal” is turned over to the Handmaids for them to beat to death while the Wives watch.8 Usually, the women are told that the victim is guilty of a serious crime, such as rape—but most are, in fact, political prisoners. If a person participates in this grotesque exercise, how could she sleep at night? But if she doesn’t, she will be singled out and likely punished. They’re damned spiritually if they do and damned physically if they don’t.
Though The Handmaid’s Tale focuses heavily on the female characters’ experiences, the regime is hardly kind to men. Those who haven’t been assigned a Wife—low-ranking soldiers and government functionaries—aren’t allowed to have sex or masturbate; because both are natural urges, they of course either suffer the effects of repression if they comply or the fear of being caught and possibly guilt if they don’t.9 The guilt is unearned, of course, because sexual desire is a natural, healthy part of being human. The Commanders who have Wives face a slightly different problem: They are required to have sex outside of marriage. For men to whom marriage is sacred, this must cause enormous amount of guilt, compounded by their Wives’ jealousy and hurt; but only the few Commanders who helped set up the system actually chose that arrangement. Indeed, Offred’s Commander is so estranged from his Wife that he tries to befriend Offred to make up for the loss of companionship and conversation.
If a person has limited opportunities to make decisions that build or maintain his moral character, and if he accepts guilt for things that either aren’t bad or aren’t his fault, then he won’t believe that he is good. And if he doesn’t believe that, then his self-esteem will topple, and he won’t trust himself—leaving him even more susceptible to authorities who want to tell him how to live and what he should care about.
The ‘Self’ in ‘Self-Esteem’
In keeping with the Christian roots of the regime, the leaders of Gilead glorify suffering. For example, they don’t allow anesthetics during childbirth, citing a Bible verse claiming that sorrow and conception arise together and stating that “in pain you shall bring forth children.”10 They encourage women to see their suffering as promoting the “greater good” and punish them if they suggest otherwise. This is but one way the regime pushes people into repressing their desires—even such basic desires as avoiding pain—and silencing their expression of their values. Pursuing your values is vital for creating the life you want and building your self-esteem—but they must be your values, not somebody else’s, and certainly not values forced on you.
By contrast, women in Gilead are not allowed to work outside the home; even the Wives—the most respected of the women—are strictly limited both in what they can do and how they can do it. Women are not allowed to write, sing, or drive; they may only do what’s necessary for their mandated work and basic survival. In addition, Wives may pursue a few approved hobbies, such as gardening and knitting. Handmaids and Marthas, the women responsible for cooking and cleaning, must strictly obey the Wife with whom they live.11 The Gileadean regime objectifies women to the point that many people speak of “issuing” Wives and Handmaids to men.12 Those in power and their supporters treat women as mentally feeble and untrustworthy; for example, a lone woman’s testimony is not admissible as evidence in court.13 Women aren’t allowed to leave the house alone, supposedly for their safety. Also, they aren’t allowed to read—not even shop signs—catastrophically impairing their ability to think.
With so little to occupy her mind, Offred studies her room in minute detail, reminisces about her past, grieves the things she’s lost, muses about all the time she must wait around with nothing to do, and wishes for anything at all to think about. She even reflects at one point that pigs being fattened for slaughter are given balls to play with, and she wishes she had a similar kind of entertainment.14 A person’s ability to think enables her to learn skills, create values, effect change, and determine what’s right and wrong—and that sense of efficacy and belief in your moral worth are the core of self-esteem.
The regime’s restrictions forbid many other things essential to physical and mental health. Exercise more strenuous than walking is deemed unnecessary for women and thus banned; the only art permitted is a few statues and murals left from before the regime took power, plus the singing of hymns (by men only, of course). Such severe limitations not only suck the joy out of people’s lives, but they take away their ability to care for themselves, crippling their ability to demonstrate to themselves that they’re worthy of such care—a necessary component of self-esteem.
Life in Gilead is spartan and minimalist. Except for the Wives, women are forbidden to use cosmetics of any kind, and everyone must wear his or her assigned uniform all the time.15 These rules, as well as the strictly limited use of mirrors, are intended to sharply curtail concern with, or expression through, one’s appearance.16 In fact, a Handmaid’s uniform is about the only thing she’s allowed to notionally own. So not only is she barred from expressing her style, but she can’t enjoy the satisfaction that comes from having mementos of cherished memories or relationships—physical signs of a person’s values. Her bleak world serves as a reminder to cherish such possessions and opportunities to express ourselves.
Although all Gileadean women are treated like children, the Handmaids have it the worst; they are treated like breeding cattle. They aren’t even allowed to use their real names, showing how far they’re separated from their previous lives and personalities (the novel takes place early enough in the regime that most can remember a time before it). Instead, they are given names based on their Commander’s first name. The protagonist is known only as Offred, meaning “the Handmaid of Fred”; she meets others called Ofglen, Ofwarren, Ofkyle, and so on. Others are encouraged to see Handmaids only in relation to those they’re forced to serve, and a Handmaid’s assignment is changed every two years. This practice, along with the many ways in which people are censored, forces citizens and especially Handmaids to push their real thoughts and identities deep within themselves. Offred at one point reflects on the process of putting on this mask: “I compose myself. My self is now a thing I must compose, as one composes a speech. What I must present is a made thing, not something born.”17
The Wife in Offred’s household is Serena Joy, a former Christian political activist who once gave speeches and appeared on television. To Offred, she is cold, distant, and resentful—and it’s not hard to imagine why. Besides the intrusion into her marriage that the Ceremony represents, Serena (like all Wives) is confined to knitting and gardening, unable to pursue goals she cares about.18 Just as many bright children dread going to a traditional government school where their individual interests, skills, and needs are largely ignored, citizens in a society like Gilead—one that forces people into specific, rigid roles—nearly always grow to resent those roles and to derive little, if any, meaning from whatever skill they gain in their daily tasks. Serena’s bitterness is but one example of this in the novel.
The Republic of Gilead prevents relationships; dictates what people wear and how they spend their time; and both forces and emotionally manipulates people into outwardly conforming, rather than expressing their actual opinions, ideas, and desires. The Aunts even teach the future Handmaids that “to be seen is to be penetrated” and that modesty is a major virtue—except, of course, when serving “God” and Gilead via the Ceremony.19 Women in Gilead are expected to be silent and make decisions only at home; men are assigned to one of only a few rigid roles (soldier and bureaucrat are the most common). There’s no room for spontaneity, passion, or innovation. There’s no opportunity to create, produce, or act in ways that reflect or develop your true self.
In Gilead, the strict rules and moral browbeating push many to repress their emotions, thoughts, and desires, leading to a widespread lack of self-acceptance. And developing our self-esteem requires self-acceptance—how can we feel good about ourselves if we don’t accept who we are? That doesn’t mean approving of every aspect of ourselves (that’s narcissism). Rather, it means recognizing that we are the way we are and that we have done the things we’ve done (for Gileadeans, that includes the context of the force used against them). If instead, as is clearly the case in Gilead, a person feels that she must hide parts of herself—thoughts, feelings, or desires—she will start to feel deep down that she is not good enough, which is exactly what Offred goes through. Whether someone is not facing something that is wrong and needs correcting or is shunning a part of herself that is inconvenient, painful, or contrary to what she’s been taught is good, she’s not accepting all of herself. Whatever the cause, left unaddressed, her self-esteem will sink, as Offred’s does.
Connecting with Others
In Gilead, the government discourages friendships and makes romance next to impossible. Citizens hesitate to trust anyone, rarely if ever sharing sentiments that aren’t strictly orthodox because anyone could be an “Eye”—a spy for the government.20 Further, the authorities regard friendships formed before Gilead as “suspicious” because they consider that time as immoral and its remnants as corrupt.21 Making new friends is further complicated because people are allowed to interact only in limited, regimented ways. Guards even scold the Handmaids if they talk too much in the shops.22
This means that for women, home is the only place to get to know others. But Offred reflects that by the regime’s design, “In this house, we all envy each other something.”23 Envy doesn’t fully capture it, though. Most Marthas seem to envy the Handmaids’ ability to leave the house and talk to people outside it, and they also resent the Wives who order them around. Many Handmaids think (not without cause) that the others look down on them for accepting a position that requires them to have sex with whomever the Aunts decide (even though they could only choose between being a Handmaid or being a slave laborer in the Colonies). Some Handmaids, including Offred, envy Marthas for their comparatively simple, soothing work and resent the Wives who will raise their babies. One Handmaid gets upset when the Wife in her household names the baby she births.24 And Wives often resent the Handmaids’ intrusion into their marriages. Some also look down on the Marthas as lowly servants. In other words, the regime’s system is engineered to make deep relationships between women under the same roof nearly impossible.
Indeed, all healthy relationships (friendships, familial, and romantic relationships) are seriously hindered, and we see the resulting loneliness weighing down on Offred. Strong relationships, such as the ones she’d had before the new regime with her friend Moira and her husband, show us that we’re able to communicate and understand others, to support them, perhaps to make them laugh—in short, to add value to their lives while adding value to our own. This demonstrates that we’re efficacious, not only regarding things but interacting with rational people; Moira, for example, is an opinionated woman working with an organization that opposes the movement that became the new government. She and Offred had many moments of laughter, deep conversation, and simply being there for one another. Healthy relationships reward us with many such experiences that support strong self-esteem, from taking joy in each other’s accomplishments to being reminded of our strengths, and we should savor them. Such relationships reflect and embody one’s values—both of which Gilead’s leaders are intent on destroying.
One way that relationships can bolster self-esteem is through psychological visibility. We feel “seen” when someone whose judgment we respect fully recognizes and appreciates a part of our identity that’s important to us. Suppose you work hard on a project at work, making sure it meets the client’s needs perfectly. If your boss, whose expertise you admire, says only that “it’s nice,” not mentioning any of the aspects you think make it special, you will feel unseen. Conversely, if he praises those things, you will feel seen. Similarly, if your spouse praises you for aspects of yourself that you value, you will feel seen, and your marriage will benefit. But, of course, just as the Gileadean regime’s oppression hinders people from developing values, it thwarts the sort of relationships that could lead to psychological visibility based on those values.
Just as healthy relationships help build self-esteem, so strong self-esteem helps with forming healthy relationships. When someone has high self-esteem, he seeks to reach his potential and thrive—including seeking to build and maintain strong relationships with people who share his values and who will enrich his life (and he theirs). When someone has low self-esteem, he feels he must prove himself or justify his existence. For him, others aren’t whole, multifaceted individuals he can connect with but primarily sources of approval or disapproval, some external sign that he has a right to exist, however momentarily. Unsurprisingly, Gilead is full of such people. Offred observes of another Handmaid that she “was like a puppy that’s been kicked too often, by too many people, at random: she’d roll over for anyone, she’d tell anything, just for a moment of approbation.”25 Doubting herself at every turn, the Handmaid evaluates herself almost solely by how others respond to her as a substitute for self-approval.
Gilead presents another significant barrier to healthy relationships: Because people are seriously hindered in forming a moral character, they rarely respect themselves; but self-respect is the foundation of respect for others. Our views of human nature depend heavily on our own nature. We naturally tend to assume that others are like us until we have evidence to the contrary. (Psychologists call this “assumed similarity.”26) Cheaters assume that others are likely to cheat; honest people expect others to be honest, and so on. If we genuinely respect ourselves, we’re more likely to respect others. If we think we’re awful, we’re more likely to assume others are, too—and that if we can’t see it, they’re probably just good at hiding it. Offred, for example, often imagines others saying nasty, petty things.27 She’s not malicious; she simply finds it difficult to escape her own paradigm of thinking badly of others and so assumes others do the same.
Strong self-esteem and healthy relationships with others are reciprocal; nurturing each can help to support the other. Of course, that’s almost entirely moot when a regime is so authoritarian that it mostly prevents relationships altogether—highlighting the importance of fighting such regimes.
Liberty and Self-Esteem
As awful as Gilead sounds, perhaps the most horrifying part is that it’s not entirely made up. Atwood explained, “One of my rules was that I would not put any events into the book that had not already happened . . . nor any technology that was not already available. No imaginary gizmos, no imaginary laws, no imaginary atrocities.”28 The regime’s horrific policies can teach us about real-life tyranny and how it affects self-esteem because that’s what inspired them, from Soviet gulags, to the Nazis’ Lebensborn breeding program, to the Taliban’s restrictions on nearly every aspect of Afghan women’s lives.
As Atwood wrote in her introduction to the 2017 edition of the novel, the reeducation center for the Handmaids was designed to teach those women, among other things, “to think so poorly of themselves that they will accept their assigned fate and not rebel or run away.”29 People with low self-esteem are more willing to relinquish control over their lives because they don’t believe themselves capable of making good decisions. They view themselves as inefficacious or unworthy.
This is one crucial example of how the degree of self-esteem we have affects us in all areas of life; it establishes the limits of what we think is possible for and appropriate to us. It influences the goals we set, the people with whom we choose to spend time, the balance of rest to work we allow ourselves, and much more. Having high self-esteem sets up a virtuous cycle; those with strong self-esteem are more likely to persist longer at tasks, set ambitious goals, accurately assess their abilities, and expect respect in their relationships.30 As a result, such people are more likely to achieve ambitious goals and to build strong, healthy relationships, which gives them evidence of their efficacy and moral worth, which in turn supports their self-esteem—and the cycle continues. Moira always had a strong sense of herself and what she stood for; after being put in the same reeducation center as Offred, she is the only one Offred sees attempt a daring escape. Her confidence in her abilities and her values were strong enough that she felt that she deserved to escape and that she would be able to.
By contrast, those with low self-esteem end up in a vicious cycle. A person with low self-esteem is prone to self-sabotage, whether in one area or in life as a whole—perhaps by developing a drug or alcohol problem, or simply by not setting the kinds of goals or seeking the conditions necessary to achieve his potential. Those with low self-esteem tend to think, in effect, “I probably won’t get that promotion at work, or get the date with that girl, so why try?” and either don’t try at all or put in less effort than they’re capable of.31 Though a person with low self-esteem is not guaranteed to fail, it is more likely than if he had higher self-esteem. If he does succeed at something, he’s likely to suffer from impostor syndrome rather than enjoy the deserved satisfaction from his achievement.32 In relationships, a person with low self-esteem is more likely to accept poor treatment or to sabotage a good relationship because he feels, consciously or subconsciously, that he doesn’t deserve it. Offred, for example, doesn’t try to befriend the Marthas in her house because she believes it will be pointless. And at the political level, a person with low self-esteem is more likely to accept a tyrannical government because he believes, at least at some level, that his life is best managed by others.
Resisting being controlled requires confidence that one is right to do so and able to get by without that authority. This helps to explain why rebels against tyranny, whether real or fictional, are so inspiring: Their courage is founded on moral certainty, an aspect of self-esteem. Research supports this; for instance, a 2023 study found that “a strong sense of self . . . seemed to provide resilience and empower participants to navigate sexism and other injustice.”33 Yet in the society that Atwood depicts, most people accept to some degree that others should dictate their lives even though they’re miserable—and that there may be some benefits to it. People rarely resist even such nonsense the Handmaids being forbidden from drinking coffee. If you firmly hold that you alone can and should control your life, you will insist on doing so; if you don’t deeply believe that, you won’t.
A Message of Hope
Atwood depicted a dystopia that is chilling for a variety of reasons. But the story includes glimmers of hope that keep Offred from surrendering to despair and encourage her to hold onto her identity. Under a regime that would cut off a woman’s hand if she were caught writing, finding a message scratched in her closet is one such glimmer. The message reads, “Nolite te bastardes carborondorum”—scrambled Latin originally intended as a joke, but which means something like “Don’t let the bastards grind you down.”34 This idea helps her hold onto who she is and resist the regime’s effects on her sense of identity and self-esteem until she has the opportunity to take more drastic action to improve her situation.
As Offred takes courage from that message, so we can draw inspiration from her. Thankfully, most of us won’t ever have to deal with such terrible circumstances. Nonetheless, The Handmaid’s Tale offers many lessons about the roots of self-esteem and how to improve it. Perhaps most important, it illustrates the connection between self-esteem and liberty, inspiring us to hang onto the former so we don’t lose the latter.
This article appears in the Spring 2025 issue of The Objective Standard.
The book doesn’t use the term “reeducation center,” but given that it’s intended to retrain them to accept a new form of life and uses harsh punishments such as beating, it seems an appropriate label; Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale (New York: Anchor Books, 1986), 72.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 72.
I paraphrase this definition from Nathaniel Branden, whose work on self-esteem is clarifying and useful. See The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem (New York: Random House, 1994).
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 81.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 61.
Atwood, participating in the filming of this scene in the Amazon Prime adaptation, described it as “horribly upsetting”; Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, xvi, 72.
Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged, (New York: Signet, Kindle edition), 548.
“Particicution,” The Handmaid’s Tale Wiki, accessed October 17, 2024, https://the-handmaids-tale.fandom.com/wiki/Particicution#cite_note-:Historical-1.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 22.
Although the regime has created its own version of the Bible, this seems to refer to a quote from Genesis 3:16, the New King James translation of which reads, “To the woman He said: ‘I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; In pain you shall bring forth children’”; see https://biblehub.com/genesis/3-16.htm; Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 114.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 16.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 18.
As we learn in the spinoff novel, The Testaments, some of the high-ranking Aunts are not true believers but joined the regime to survive and temper its injustices where possible; Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 33.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 69–70.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 61.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 8.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 66.
Caroline Norman, “Four Simple CBT Techniques to Improve Self-Esteem,” Online Therapy, April 14, 2023, https://www.online-therapy.com/blog/four-simple-cbt-techniques-to-improve-self-esteem/; “How Can I Improve My Self-Esteem?,” Mind, accessed October 17, 2024, https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/self-esteem/tips-to-improve-your-self-esteem.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 28.
This was probably inspired by Atwood’s experience living in Berlin divided by the Iron Curtain, when the Stasi and Gestapo employed about one informant per 6.5 citizens; see John O. Koehler, Stasi: The Untold Story of the East German Secret Police (Boulder: Westview Press, 1999), chap. 1.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 71.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 26.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 47.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 127.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 129.
Norman Miller and Gary Marks, “Assumed Similarity between Self and Other: Effect of Expectation of Future Interaction with That Other,” Social Psychology 45, no. 2 (June 1982): 100–105.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 115.
For a breakdown of the historical inspirations of many of the major rights violations, I recommend the YouTube video “Unveiling the Truth: The Historical Origins of ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’” by Daisy Foko; Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, xiv.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, xv.
Branden, Six Pillars of Self-Esteem, 4.
That premise might be wholly or partly subconscious. Self-esteem is at the core of our being, meaning that we form it beginning in very early childhood based on a wide variety of experiences and observations. Without deep introspection, we often don’t even realize how it affects our thinking and decision making in adulthood.
Impostor syndrome describes when a person doesn’t feel worthy of his success and as a result, thinks it was a fluke and that he’s a fraud. This often leads to fear that others’ respect and admiration for him are misplaced, and they eventually will “find him out,” and he will lose their regard. This can happen when a person has low self-esteem or he does not adjust his self-concept when he begins to achieve at a higher level than he had previously.
Kerry Diekmann, “Power of a Feminist Identity on Sense of Self and Purpose,” Adultspan Journal 22, no. 1 (2023): article 2.
Atwood, Handmaid’s Tale, 52.
“If a person has limited opportunities to make decisions that build or maintain his moral character, and if he accepts guilt for things that either aren’t bad or aren’t his fault, then he won’t believe that he is good. And if he doesn’t believe that, then his self-esteem will topple, and he won’t trust himself—leaving him even more susceptible to authorities who want to tell him how to live and what he should care about.”
You have basically summarized what all religions teach—especially Christianity. Not to mention totalitarian regimes.
I like your commentary on The Handmaiden’s Tale but I would question whether an individual may be moral in an immoral world. And I would further suggest that without another place to go Offred is in a lifeboat situation where morality has no bearing.