Catlyn Origitano
BioShock Infinite follows the journey of Booker DeWitt, a reluctant detective from New York City who is transplanted via rowboat and lighthouse-turned-rocket to the floating city of Columbia. Booker is charged with the task of bringing back a girl in order to wipe away his debt. The girl, Elizabeth Comstock, has been locked in a tower since infancy by her father, Zachary Comstock, and is protected by a menacing Songbird. Although the game centers on Booker and his story, this chapter focuses on Elizabeth, looking at her through a feminist lens. If we take Elizabeth as her own person, rather than as a mere companion, does Elizabeth’s freedom from the tower mean real freedom for her? Does Booker treat Elizabeth any differently than Comstock does? Is Elizabeth actually a self-sufficient companion? And, what really is Elizabeth’s role in Booker’s drowning?
Our introduction to Elizabeth is in the form of propaganda. We hear and read, for example, the much repeated “The Seed of the Prophet shall sit the throne and drown in flames the mountains of man.” This Seed, who is portrayed in parade floats and posters as a baby or an animal, is in fact a very adult, very human, Elizabeth. These early incarnations of Elizabeth offer two insights into understanding the oppression of women. First, that Elizabeth, despite her age, is referred to as a child or baby. The philosopher Simone de Beauvoir (1908–86) argues that infantilizing women is a form of oppression used to control them. Women are like children, because both “can only submit to the laws, the gods, the customs and the truths created by the males.”1 In doing so, in becoming passive before men who create her goals and values, a woman is made an “eternal child.”2 Women, then, needn’t be taken seriously and can be the perpetual dependents of men. However, de Beauvoir claims that women, unlike children, consent to their own oppression. They could choose to fight for their freedom—for more responsibility—but they would rather stay under the familiar care of men.3
The propaganda surrounding Elizabeth also points to a second method of oppression: thinking of and referring to women as objects, as opposed to subjects. A subject is an individual who is free to make choices and to be a real person. An object is just that: a thing. Elizabeth is clearly an object, rather than a subject. She is, after all, referred to as such: Lamb, Seed, and Specimen. Not only is Elizabeth constantly referred to as an object, but the reference is always in relationship to a man, namely the Prophet: “Seed of the Prophet,” “My Lamb,” and so forth. Elizabeth’s depiction in propaganda as an infant or an object defined in relation to men parallels, for de Beauvoir, the situation of oppressed women.
After fighting his way through the streets of Columbia, Booker reaches Elizabeth in her tower. Her confinement clearly expresses and is directly analogous to the oppression of women, as seen in Marilyn Frye’s description of the experience of oppressed people:
The living of one’s life is confined and shaped by forces and barriers which… are systematically related to each other in such a way as to catch one between and among them and restrict or penalize motion in any direction. It is the experience of being caged in.4
Elizabeth is not allowed to leave the tower, and others control every aspect of her daily life. Not only is she clearly in a cage, but, just as in the oppression of women, she finds herself oppressed because of men, or in her case a man: her father, Zachary Comstock. Her warden, the Songbird, is also a male.
The reason that Elizabeth is caged is also very similar to the reason that women are oppressed. Elizabeth is different from everyone else. She has powers, specifically the ability to open tears into different universes and different times. Comstock locks Elizabeth in a tower because of her nature, which is outside of her control (in fact, her powers seemed to be caused by the men in her life trading her across universes) but used to justify her oppression. The same can be said of women’s oppression. Women in certain cultures are, explicitly or implicitly, deemed naturally inferior to men, and this inferiority is used to justify their oppression. For example, some people argue that women are physically weaker than men by nature and therefore inferior. This argument is difficult to maintain, however, given that many civilizations no longer require physical strength to thrive.
Although when we first meet Elizabeth she is caged in a tower, shortly thereafter Booker helps her escape. Freeing Elizabeth from her tower, one could argue, is in a way freeing her from the oppression of men. Such an understanding of her freedom is simplistic, however. In fact, Elizabeth now finds herself in an even more crushing, if metaphorical, cage. Frye’s famous birdcage analogy aptly describes Elizabeth’s new habitation. Frye compares the experience of oppression to being in a birdcage where one does not readily see the cage because one focuses too much on one or two wires. By focusing on a few wires at a time, one does not understand why the bird doesn’t simply fly away. However, if one takes a step back, one sees that all of the wires are in fact related and come together to form an entire system, a cage, which prevents the bird from ever leaving.5
Elizabeth’s first interactions with Booker after they wash up on the shore reveal that she is still in a cage. Booker finds Elizabeth dancing and tells her that he is going to take her to Paris. This is of course a lie; he intends to bring her to New York so that he can wipe away his debt. At this point Booker is, in a similar fashion to Comstock, treating Elizabeth as an object, specifically a poker chip that he can use in order to obtain his own freedom. Although Booker’s freeing Elizabeth from the tower certainly begins her journey to emancipation, it is too soon to say that she is fully free. After all, de Beauvoir argues that even oppressed women are given some freedom, but “they have gained only what men have been willing to grant; they have taken nothing, they have only received.”6 Elizabeth, similarly, didn’t free herself from the tower, but rather her freedom was, in a sense, given to her, by Booker. One cannot be given total freedom; instead, it is something that, particularly if one is oppressed, one must fight to win. This does not mean that Booker’s actions are not integral to Elizabeth’s freedom, just that they are not sufficient for her to experience total freedom.
We may ask of Elizabeth why she is so eager and willing to believe Booker and his promises. According to de Beauvoir, this attitude is one that is cultivated in the oppression of women: “She cheerfully believes lies because they invite her to follow the easy slope… they damage and corrupt her by designating as her true vocation submission.”7 Elizabeth has known only submission and only ever believed lies. It makes sense, then, that she would continue to submit to the lies of men. Even though it is understandable why Elizabeth would trust Booker, we can see here an example of de Beauvoir’s claim that women consent to their oppression. Elizabeth, as many women do, stays within her position of submission and subordinance because it is safe and comfortable; she knows what to expect and what is expected of her. Again, we can see why Elizabeth, free from her literal tower, is not free. She does not take any real steps to develop her freedom, to be active rather than passive, to be in control rather than submissive. De Beauvoir argues that women’s inability or refusal to take action and to assert themselves is one reason that they stay in their condition.8
Another striking example of Elizabeth’s oppression in BioShock Infinite that mirrors the oppression of women can be found in her activities as a companion to Booker. She performs three major tasks: code-breaking, lock-picking, and the retrieval of supplies, the first two being completely unique to her (Booker can, after all, eat cake out of the garbage can if he needs health). Elizabeth learned code-breaking and lock-picking while in her tower. Booker asks her about both, to which she responds, “You put someone in a cage, they develop interests in such things.” Elizabeth’s abilities, then, are a direct result of her oppression. If she had been free from the beginning she might have developed different skills, like firing a gun. Instead, she works with what she has and with what is available given her restraints. Additionally, Elizabeth’s skills in code-breaking and lock-picking are not entirely necessary. That is, one needn’t open all the doors or break the codes in order to complete the game. What Elizabeth brings to the game as far as these two skills are concerned is not completely central, but helpful or fun. You get to explore more areas and perhaps get a new hat, but you needn’t utilize her abilities.
During combat, Elizabeth is more involved and essential, though at first not entirely. In the beginning her assistance is limited, only supplying you with health, which, unless you play at very high levels of difficulty, is not necessary. If you look for Elizabeth during the battle you will find her hiding, crouched and out of the way. The game tells you that Elizabeth doesn’t need any protection, something you the player rejoice at, having experienced completely helpless, bullet-magnet companions in other games. However, is Elizabeth really a subject who can “handle herself,” or she is just an object to Booker, a helper whose help you don’t really need?
Elizabeth as a companion has been praised for her ability to avoid getting killed, and for helping the protagonist, something unusual for most video games. However, even this description of her fits the profile of the oppressed woman. De Beauvoir writes, “A balance is reached if, on the whole, the cost does not seem high to the man… if the woman demands—offers—too much time, she becomes wholly intrusive.”9 The reason that Elizabeth is praised as a good companion is not because she can take care of herself, but because she does not get in the way. She does not require too much saving, and she does not talk too much and distract you, the male protagonist, from your quest. It is not until the end that Elizabeth becomes the one driving the storyline; until then she, for the most part, follows Booker on his quest.
De Beauvoir argues that when a woman is placed in the company of men, “She is represented, at one time, as pure passivity, available, open, a utensil… she is fascinated by the male, who picks her like fruit.”10 In the beginning of Booker’s interactions with Elizabeth, she is a passive prisoner that you pick up and take with you. Then, as you battle, she is a tool, a utensil, for the protagonist’s fights and story. Appropriately, de Beauvoir writes, “The truth is that for man she is an amusement, a pleasure, company, an inessential boon; he is for her the meaning, the justification of her existence.”11 This is clearly the relationship between Booker and Elizabeth at the beginning of the story: she is delighted with the world, as she has not really seen it before, and Booker finds this amusing, at best. Elizabeth is helpful, or a boon, but not a necessary one, at least not at first. Booker frees her; he gives her a story and a purpose: to go to Paris. Without Booker Elizabeth is nothing, certainly not a person or a character. Because she has to depend on Booker for her existence, she is still not free.
Although Elizabeth’s skills as a companion are not essential, she does, later in the game, reveal a very important and necessary skill that drives forward the concluding plotline: opening tears. It is unclear what a tear is. Even Elizabeth, who has lived with them her whole life, doesn’t completely understand them, in part because she wasn’t ever allowed to fully explore them. As her powers grew, so did the syphon. She does say a number of times that she feels the tears are a form of wish fulfillment and that “Whenever I get anxious, tears have a way of appearing.” These tears are completely unique to Elizabeth and are entirely essential to the gameplay. You cannot advance past certain areas without Elizabeth’s tears, and they become increasingly necessary as the story progresses.
Despite the growing need for tears, when Booker first sees Elizabeth open one to let a bee out, he is not pleased. She claims that she could use them to help, but his response is that they look like a “short cut to getting us killed.” He “can handle what comes along.” The tears, then, at first are seen as something frightening, and not helpful to Booker, in particular because he “doesn’t really understand” them. Booker’s response to Elizabeth and her powers is analogous to men’s response to women. Men do not understand because they see women as wholly different and foreign—or, as de Beauvoir puts it, “Other”—and men therefore try to limit or suppress women. Rather than see Elizabeth’s difference as a good thing, or perhaps just different, Booker, like other men, sees it as something foreign and unwanted. Elizabeth, because she is so used to accepting what the men in her life demand of her, obliges. It is not until later, not until she is truly emancipated, that she gains more control over her power and that her power is seen and used as an essential boon.
Although Elizabeth spends a great deal of time in cages, she is eventually liberated. De Beauvoir gives us only sparse details of what the liberation of women looks like because for her “the free woman is just being born,” and her project in The Second Sex is mainly the description and explanation of the oppression of women.12 She does claim a number of times, though, that it is through economic equality, like gainful employment, that women can guarantee their freedom.13 Gainful employment is not a goal for Elizabeth, yet we can understand de Beauvoir’s point by looking at what about employment she finds to be beneficial to the emancipation of women. In particular, de Beauvoir argues that a woman can be free “once she ceases to be a parasite,” once she is “productive, active” and once she takes “possession of… and senses her responsibility.”14 She must “be permitted to take her chances in her own interest and in the interest of all.”15
Elizabeth’s emancipation is not something that comes about all at once, but rather develops over the course of the game. There are pivotal points of the story in which she does what de Beauvoir requires of a liberated woman: she becomes more active, brings her own interest to bear, and becomes responsible. One pivotal point in the game for Elizabeth occurs when she encounters the ghost of her mother and a fight ensues. It is only when Elizabeth learns of Lady Comstock’s feelings and circumstances that she begins to see that Lady Comstock was oppressed by Zachary as well. Elizabeth comments, “All locked up in there. Looks like you and I have some common ground.” As soon as she realizes that her mother suffered a fate similar to her own, she talks to the ghost and they cease fighting. Elizabeth and Lady Comstock’s union fits de Beauvoir’s claim that the liberation of women must be a “collective one.”16 In order for this collective freedom to occur, women must stop fighting with each other for the approval of men. Elizabeth and Lady Comstock must stop their infighting. They are, after all, both in the situation they are in due to Zachary. That is where their attention must be turned; that is where they must take their fight, rather than at each other.
Another pivotal point of the game for Elizabeth comes in an alternate reality. We see glimpses of an aged Elizabeth who fulfills her father’s prophecy by setting New York City ablaze. We hear her over Columbia’s loudspeaker mimicking Zachary’s words and ideals. She, the aged Elizabeth, is what can happen under the oppression of men. As de Beauvoir writes, “To see things clearly is not her business, for she has been taught to accept masculine authority. So she gives up criticizing, judging for herself, and leaves all this to the superior caste.”17 Elizabeth gives up her questioning and her responsibility to become what Zachary wants her to be. Old Elizabeth seems all too aware of her oppressed position, hauntingly remarking: “What would happen if I took off the leash and found I was as obedient as ever?” This quote speaks volumes, because it reinforces the idea that even outside of a literal cage, one can still be caged, and because it echoes the situation of oppressed women as leashed but accepting of the leash; or, as de Beauvoir puts it, consenting to their own oppression.
This aged Elizabeth is important not only because she shows us what can happen under the oppressive thumb of men, but also because of her assistance to young Elizabeth. In particular, old Elizabeth gives a note to Booker to give to the young Elizabeth. This note contains information essential to Elizabeth’s liberation: how to control her warden Songbird. Old Elizabeth’s actions help to free young Elizabeth and reveal another collective of women working together toward their mutual freedom.
In these examples we can perceive a few common themes. Elizabeth sees with greater clarity the world around her; in particular, she sees the wires of the cages working together to form a system of dominance. Further, she sees that Zachary Comstock is responsible for all of these wires. Additionally, in these instances we see Elizabeth take action and responsibility. It is she, and not Booker, who leads each of these quest lines and who figures out the next step in the journey and acts. Elizabeth no longer wholly relies on Booker for her answers, but seeks them herself. None of this is to say that Elizabeth achieved her freedom on her own, or that these are the only instances of her learning and acting. Booker is very important to her freedom, but he is not sufficient for it. Rather, as de Beauvoir claims, in order for woman to truly be free, she must end her total dependence on men and act for herself.
Elizabeth’s journey to freedom is not without strife. Her father, obviously, wants her back in the cage and the citizens of Columbia are constantly trying to recapture her. Not only does she struggle for freedom with the citizens of Columbia, but also with her companion Booker. We first see this conflict when Elizabeth apprehends that Booker is not being honest with her. After helping him get to the airship for their goal of going to Paris, she realizes, when she looks at the longitude and latitude of their destination, that they are in fact going to New York. When Elizabeth realizes Booker’s deceit, she knocks him out and runs away. Eventually they are reunited, though her attitude is certainly changed. She reverts to calling him Mr. DeWitt and tells him, “Don’t get too comfortable with my company, Mr. DeWitt. You are a means to an end.” Booker responds to her aggression in like kind, at one point rather gruffly saying to her, “My busting you out; what do you think that was? Charity?” This tension between the two is entirely necessary. After all, Booker has been benefiting from Elizabeth’s submission for most of the game. It is also a natural conclusion of Elizabeth, or any woman, struggling against oppression. As de Beauvoir writes, “He is very well pleased to remain the sovereign subject, the absolute supreme, the essential being; he refuses to accept his companion as an equal in any concrete way. She replies to his lack of confidence by assuming an aggressive attitude.”18 This quarrel will continue, de Beauvoir argues, “as long as men and women fail to recognize each other as peers.”19 In the beginning, Booker sees Elizabeth as a means to an end. As she gains more freedom, she does the same to him. It is not until the two see each other as equals that this tension ends and that she is closer to real freedom.
The liberation of Elizabeth is a necessary and important part of the story of Columbia. As mentioned before, there is a link between Elizabeth’s increasing freedom and her centrality to the story. As she begins to stick up for herself, questioning Booker’s motivation and activities, she becomes more necessary to Booker and the game. Her tears, which Booker at first scorned, are now necessary to move the plot along: you must open tears to bring the tools to the warehouse and save Lin, for example. Elizabeth, as liberated, then transitions from being an object to a subject as the game goes on. She is no longer an inessential companion, but a very necessary and integral part of the game. Her ability to help increases, as does the need for it. Her skills are now seen as equal to Booker’s shooting prowess. Rather than Booker being the one in charge, the most powerful and necessary one, they become equals. He needs her tears, help, and direction, and she becomes more active, more involved, and less dependent on him.
Not only are Elizabeth’s skills more and more useful as she becomes more and more free, but she also, in a sense, becomes the protagonist of the story. While obviously you, as the player, do not get to control her, her actions and desires become the driving force for the conclusion of the game. It is Elizabeth, and not Booker, who wants to see her mother. It is she, and not Booker, who wants to go to Comstock and confront him (Booker is the one who wants to go to Paris now!). It is also Elizabeth, more so than Booker, who drives us toward the game’s ending.
Elizabeth is the one who figures out the ending long before Booker; she is able to see it all, while he remains confused. Elizabeth explains that despite the fact that they killed Comstock in their universe, there are still millions of other universes where Comstock lives. Booker then states that they must smother Comstock in his cradle so that there will never be a Comstock in any universe at any time. As far as video games are concerned, this is as close as we get to the final boss: we must kill Comstock in his cradle and only then will we have won the game. We are stunned to learn that Booker is Comstock and has become Comstock through a baptism. A number of Elizabeths come to the baptism and drown Booker/Comstock, thereby defeating the final boss. What we might have expected is for Booker to save the day, while Elizabeth stands idly by (à la Princess Peach), yet she is in fact very active and takes part in the final boss kill. It is not Elizabeth alone who does this deed, though. She does not kill Booker against his will. Such a reading of the ending might lead one to the false conclusion that the liberation of women automatically means the destruction of men. Rather, Booker knows that this must happen and goes into the water willingly. The death of the final boss is something that the two undertake as equals, both active, both involved, and both pursuing their interests. This final act, done together, allows absolute freedom for both: Booker’s debt is wiped away, and Elizabeth will never again be subjected to her tower.20