Literary And Cinematic Examples

Literary Character: Engineer Alfred L.

If This Is a Man by Primo Levi By Alberto Langone

In his book If This Is a Man, Primo Levi describes many individuals with whom he shared the harrowing experience of being a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp. Astutely, he states:

"It is enough to subject people of different ages, conditions, origins, languages, cultures, and customs to a constant, controllable, identical regimen of life that is below their needs to establish what is essential and what is acquired in the behavior of the animal-man in the struggle for life." — Levi, P., If This Is a Man, Austral, Barcelona, 2018

Levi proposes that there are two categories of people: those who succumb and those who survive. He dedicates a chapter to recalling certain characters who are particularly interesting, such as the case of Engineer Alfred L.

Succumbing was very easy. It was enough to obey all orders, eat only the ration provided, and follow the discipline of work and the camp. Thus, the path to annihilation was singular and inexorable. In contrast, the paths to survival were numerous and unpredictable. The master route was to obtain a position or function: the Prominenz. The Prominenten were the officials, from nurses to those who cleaned the latrines.

Regarding this, the case of the Jewish prisoners is particularly noteworthy. While non-Jews received positions upon entering the camp due to their "natural superiority," Jews had to plot and fight hard to obtain them. The prominent Jews represent a remarkable human phenomenon. If someone, through a prodigy of savage patience and cunning, discovered a new way to escape the hardest labor or a new skill that earned them a few extra grams of bread, they would strive to keep it secret. For this, they were respected and admired, as it gave them personal and exclusive benefits, made them stronger, and thus feared — and being feared was, ipso facto, a ticket to survival.

Primo Levi recounts three stories to demonstrate how some managed to save themselves from extermination. Of these, we will focus on Alfred L., whose story, as narrated by Levi, allows us to consider him a Preservation character.

His story demonstrates how vain the myth of the original equality of men is. L. managed a prominent chemical products factory in his home country, and his name was (and is) well-known in the industrial circles of Europe. He was a robust man, about fifty years old. It’s unclear how he was arrested, but he entered the camp like everyone else: naked, alone, and unknown.

When Levi met him, he was very diminished, though he still bore the marks of disciplined and methodical energy on his face.

We observe in the character the importance he places on security and satisfying basic life needs: housing, work, food, and health — all achieved with tenacity and method, submitting to strict discipline.

"At that time, his privileges were limited to the daily cleaning of the Polish workers' pots; this task, which he had somehow secured exclusively, earned him half a bowl of soup per day."

L.’s character is structured around a fundamental belief: to provide for his needs through his own strength and autonomy, to never ask for anything, and to prove to himself that he could always endure and improve his skills.

"This was certainly not enough to quell his hunger, yet no one had heard him complain."

We know that his natural impulses generated insecurity, and he felt the need to control them, to prevent them from being perceived.

"The few words he let slip suggested vast secret resources, a solid and fruitful 'organization.'"

It’s essential to remember that the Preservation type pursues ideals and abstract principles of greatness and superiority, unaware of their inconsistency, as their conflict lies with reality, which they cannot accept.

Primo Levi provides many details about the character’s appearance that align well with what we know about this personality type. That is, the need to build and maintain a good image of oneself in front of others to hide the imperfection or evil they unconsciously believe they possess. Levi describes this in several passages:

"L. had 'a line'; his hands and face were always perfectly clean." "His striped uniform was singularly well-suited to his size, clean, and new." "L. had essentially secured the appearance of a Prominent long before he became one."

L. understood that the step from being considered powerful to becoming powerful is short and that, especially amid the general leveling in the Lager, a respectable appearance was the best guarantee of being respected. When the Chemical Kommando was formed, L. realized his moment had come: he needed nothing more than his clean clothes and gaunt but shaved face to convince the Kapo and the Arbeitsdienst that he was a true survivor, a Prominent in the making.

Levi notes some aspects of L.'s perfectionism. For example:

"He had the very rare dedication to wash his shirt every fifteen days, without waiting for the bimonthly change."

Washing the shirt meant finding soap, time, and a spot in the crowded washroom; carefully guarding the wet shirt without looking away; and putting it back on, still wet, at lights-out. Much later, Levi learned that this display of prosperity had been earned by L. with incredible tenacity, paying for every acquisition and service with bread from his own rations, thereby subjecting himself to additional privations.

In his manner of obtaining what he needed and wanted, we also recognize the neurotic drive of being "virtuous": renouncing bread, enduring privations to maintain the image of a person who does not ask, does not depend, and does everything in line with their "values."

His plan was for the distant future, which was particularly notable given that it had been conceived in an environment dominated by a mindset of the provisional. He executed it with strict inner discipline, without pity for himself or, even less, for his peers who crossed his path.

L. conceived anger as a destructive force, full of threat and danger. He could not heed the needs of his instincts: sexual pleasure, aggressiveness, or affection. He believed these could unleash chaos. His distorted idea was, "I must do what is right."

He was not an angry or furious character; on the contrary, he repressed anger, which expressed itself indirectly, through criticism or demands. He was polite but not spontaneous, observing everything from a superior perspective and detecting all imperfections.

He dedicated all his efforts to not being confused with the masses: he worked with ostentatious fervor, occasionally exhorting his peers with persuasive and deprecatory tones. He avoided the daily struggle for the best spot in the food queue and adapted to always receiving the first serving, notoriously more liquid, so that the Blockältester would notice his discipline.

Here, too, we detect a cruel Superego that enabled Engineer L. to identify with the "good prisoner" and, one might say, align with Nazi authority to secure his survival.

L.’s rigidity and lack of spontaneity hindered the possibility of emotionally connecting with others. His formality and courtesy masked the fact that he was expiating his unconscious belief in not being truly good.

"To complete his detachment in relationships with his peers, he behaved with the utmost courtesy compatible with his egoism, which was absolute." "I don’t know the continuation of his story, but it seems very likely that he escaped death and now lives his cold life as a resolute and joyless dominator."

In just a few pages, Primo Levi vividly describes a character of El conservación (The Conservator) and his flaws with keen insight and sharp observation of the human soul.

CINEMATIC CHARACTER: PANTALEÓN PANTOJA

From Pantaleón y las visitadoras, directed by Mario Vargas Llosa, based on his novel of the same name

By Quique SBGUÍ

Pantaleón is a newly promoted logistics captain in the Peruvian Army who is assigned to Iquitos, in the Amazon, with the mission of addressing the growing wave of sexual assaults committed by soldiers: “The courts are overwhelmed with cases against so many offenders.” The order he receives is to establish a "visitation service," essentially a unit of prostitutes who will visit various military garrisons because, as stated, "So far, punishments and warnings haven’t changed the situation: soldiers who arrive in the jungle turn into mad dogs."

Pantaleón is tasked with this job and creates the service on his own under one strict condition: its existence and operation must remain absolutely secret. Pantaleón repeatedly acknowledges that the military is "what I respect and love most in life," and it makes sense: it provides him with the structure he needs to feel he is doing what he is supposed to. He requires a recognized authority—“The presence of these leaders is an honor for me”—and clear rules to follow; as we can see, he is the perfect subordinate. This way, he hopes to find the recognition he lacked as a child.

His superiors describe him as: “A natural organizer, with a mathematical sense of order and executive capacity,” someone who prioritizes duty over pleasure: “Even as a cadet, he preferred to stay studying at the school during free days,” although he considers himself not without flaws: “Don’t exaggerate, I must have some vices nobody knows about.”

Pantaleón has an obsessive need for continuous self-improvement, which turns into an ongoing concern. “I’ve never been one for partying. Not even when I was younger,” he says, and since no task is ever fully complete, he doesn’t even know how to enjoy himself: “Working hard at math is what I like the most. I never went to parties.” He prepares his work with meticulous detail, characteristic of his type, as nothing ever feels good enough, driven by his training to detect the slightest flaws.

Pantaleón identifies an appropriate location for the "visitors," collects surveys to determine the maximum and minimum number of services desired by soldiers at each garrison, conducts a topographical study of the number of garrisons to visit, calculates distances to travel, the necessary means of transportation, the number of “potential users,” and excludes “homosexuals, habitual masturbators, impotent men, and sexually apathetic individuals.” He even estimates the time required for each encounter.

What stands out most about the character is his meticulous approach to his work: his reports are exhaustive, he worries about the square kilometers of the area to be covered, “tests” the visitors to ensure they are suitable for the service, considers venereal diseases, the number of daily encounters required, and ensures that the locations for the services are adequately prepared.

The Conservator feels obligated to do his work perfectly, anticipating the slightest possibility of error, obsessively reviewing processes, imagining potential obstacles—because not accounting for them could result in a loss of control, which he perceives as catastrophic. To carry out his mission discreetly, Pantaleón is denied military housing, must dress in civilian clothing, and cannot socialize with his colleagues. This situation reveals a rare glimpse of his anger: “How the hell am I supposed to start working if General Scavino himself sabotages me? If my own superiors start by discouraging me, asking me to disguise myself, to stay out of sight.”

We can imagine that for someone like him, who strives so hard to do his job perfectly, being unseen (as he was in his childhood) and denied any recognition is an enormous sacrifice. For him, being acknowledged is a matter of moral justice. It is the reason for his continuous effort, even if he is unaware of it.

Pantaleón lives with his wife, Pochita, and his mother, Leonor. Pochita comments about her mother-in-law: “The only thing that bothers me is that she treats her son like he’s still a baby and a saint.” We can imagine that if she treats him this way now, how must it have been when Pantaleón was a child? This suggests an authoritarian relationship where the child strives to be perfect, “good enough,” in his mother’s eyes.

Pantaleón organizes the "visitor service" even behind his family’s back, to the point where they begin to think he’s some kind of “secret agent.” He tells his wife: “It’s my job, it’s the mission I’ve been given,”—desperate, losing weight, his voice trembling—“If I hate this, you have to believe me.” He suffers and worries about the possibility that others might suspect he is acting immorally or incorrectly, fearing that his wife might stop loving him. These catastrophic fantasies, along with his perfectionism, are his major sources of anxiety.

Pantaleón is honest; he does not lie. To do so would bring unbearable guilt and shame, so he tells the truth to relieve himself of that burden: “He promised her that he wouldn’t show off anymore in public with the parrot, the dwarf, or the Chinese man, but he would have to keep seeing them in secret because it’s part of his job.” Morality is part of the law that makes him feel secure.

Worrying is the only way he knows to guarantee he will be loved and that he is doing things right. The possibility of not being loved scares him so much that it ties into his inability to set boundaries. Pantaleón hires prostitutes and recruiters in nightclubs and even on the streets. The Navy provides him with a boat, and the Air Force with a plane. He even arranges for a nurse and the decoration of the spaces where the soldiers and prostitutes will meet.

The services begin immediately, and the garrisons are satisfied, with demand quickly increasing.

He controls even the smallest detail, and among the "visitors" (prostitutes), the opinion is unanimous: "He’s too straight-laced for his age." His wife says of him: "You know how dutiful and obsessive Panta is with his work." The Self-Preservation subtype doubts that there could be anyone else as rule-abiding as him. He believes no one can see what he sees; in this way, he feels fleeting superiority, like a firework that quickly fizzles out, only to immediately crush himself again with the pursuit of perfection.

With so much success, it’s difficult to keep secrets, and his family discovers the nature of his work. Until that moment, his sexuality, which had been formal and involved distant relationships over time, begins to change during his months in Iquitos. His wife complains about his increased "urges," and Pantoja justifies it with his desire to have a "little cadet," the son they had often talked about. Over time, Pochita becomes pregnant, and when the baby is born, it turns out to be a girl. Daily contact with the women he works with leads him to develop a relationship with one of them, the "Brazilian," and word of this reaches his wife, who leaves him, taking their daughter. The captain does not acknowledge his responsibility: "Because of you, I’ve broken a principle I’ve upheld since I can remember," he says as he experiences the instinctual side of sex.

Guilt, for someone who lives in control, constantly verifying they are doing the right thing and striving for perfection, is a feeling they struggle to bear. By refusing to acknowledge his failure, he denies his infidelity. Instead, he creates his own set of rules, allowing himself some peace by justifying his actions with a new cause. In his dreams, however, Pantoja does experience guilt; he begs for "someone to shoot him, to blow his brains out, and end this torment once and for all." To him, his character is his prison; he is a slave to his rigidity. There are no other courses of action available to him. His family circumstances could change, for example, if he renounced his mission, but such a possibility simply does not exist in his mind.

While combing his hair in the mirror, he reflects that his sense of duty "is something very mysterious, something that’s never happened to anyone else. A sickly sense of obligation, like a disease. Because it’s not moral, but biological, physical." It seems his behavior is part of a script he cannot escape—it is his destiny. He ponders his unhealthy identification with the results of his work and recalls the time he was put in charge of the garrison's uniforms: "I started to get interested in tailoring, clothing, fashion. The garrison commander thought I was gay." He considers his rule-abiding approach to be what makes him unique.

At the end of the novel, we learn that, driven by his obsession with control, he personally "verifies the aptitudes" of his workers, "personally testing all the candidates for the visitor service." This might be self-deception, a way to engage in behavior that his rigid conscience would otherwise reject. Soon, the civilian population becomes aware of the nature of his work; the townspeople publicly express their outrage, though some secretly attack one of

the visitors' convoys in a violent attempt to partake in their favors. The Brazilian dies in the attack. Pantoja gives her military honors and delivers a eulogy at her funeral: "My collaborators were deeply affected by the death of this visitor; my goal was to boost their morale, to encourage them while thinking about the future."

This event is the final straw. For his superiors, it is unthinkable to hold a public tribute that officially acknowledges the visitors’ connection to the military. Consequently, the leadership disbands the operation, as the secrecy of its functioning is no longer intact. Pantoja doesn’t understand any of this. He defends his actions at the funeral, arguing that the Brazilian was also a soldier who "fell in action" and that he acted "in conscience," which is also "his duty as a soldier." For the Self-Preservation subtype, being loyal to one’s moral code is an integral part of their structure. General Scavino, astonished at Pantoja's insistence, responds: "Then you truly believe those sinister lies." Pantoja’s disconnection from reality is complete; he fails to realize that public opinion is against the visitors, and the army is determined to dismantle the operation. However, he continues defending his methods and the "professionalism" of his workers, insisting that demand for their services is rising and that he will present "detailed studies, statistics, organizational charts, and surveys."

When he finally understands that the general is serious, Pantoja breaks down in tears and then apologizes: "I couldn’t contain myself. I beg you to excuse this weakness." For this Enneatype, emotional disconnection was ingrained from childhood, as they associate feelings with losing control. That same day, he is ordered to dismantle everything. The visitors and pimps, upon hearing that they are out of work, plead with the captain to leave the army and continue running the visitor service as civilians: "We’ll pool all our savings to keep it going," they say, and he can manage everything as he sees fit. "You’re a genius with your ideas," they tell him, urging him to stay and assuring him that he will be their leader with no superiors to answer to.

For Pantoja, this possibility represents a void: "I need to have bosses. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t know what to do. The world would fall apart for me." External rules guarantee that he is doing the right thing. If he had to dictate his own rules, his deep-seated feelings of imperfection would make it difficult for him to live with the uncertainty of their validity. He adds: "If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have lost my wife and daughter," as if someone had forced him to act as he did. Once again, reality is only what he constructs in his mind, blaming others. Paradoxically, his recognition comes only from the visitors.

The next day, he travels to Lima. At the airport, the visitors who came to see him off gift him a silver bracelet with his name engraved in gold letters. Once in the Administration Headquarters of the capital, after being kept waiting for several hours, he is given a choice: either leave the army or be reassigned to the garrison at Pomata, where he will spend many years without promotion. Pantoja apologizes: "I deeply regret having caused trouble

for my superiors... That was not my intention, not at all. I made an incorrect assessment of the pros and cons. I acknowledge my responsibility. I will accept whatever sanction is imposed for this failure." Losing the structure of the army, which gives his life meaning, is a sufficient threat, and the perfect subordinate characteristic of this Enneatype prevails.

Meanwhile, Pochita, informed by her mother-in-law that Pantaleón is in Lima and that the visitors are no longer operating, waits for her husband at her mother’s house. And so, driven by the sense of responsibility generated by an ancient introject, Pantoja returns to his family. In this way, Pantaleón Pantoja awakens once again with his family, amidst the mists of Lake Titicaca and the cold of the mountain range.