Rhinoceros is widely considered to be a critique of Nazi Germany, as well as of the fascist party and movement known as the Iron Guard, which simultaneously arose in Ionesco’s native Romania. As “rhinoceritis” functions as a metaphor for fascist regimes in general, Rhinoceros pays close attention to the way in which fascist and totalitarian beliefs—and eventually, regimes—are akin to a disease that gradually infects a population by introducing its ideas in a way that, at first glance, don’t seem to be so horrible. Ultimately though, much like the rhinoceritis illness that befalls the characters in the play, fascism lulls people into sympathizing with or buying into a belief system that is fundamentally dangerous and dehumanizing.
One of the points that Rhinoceros repeatedly makes is that while people may like to think that they wouldn’t be swayed by something like fascism, in reality it’s shockingly easy for normal, sensible, and respected people to be taken in by such an ideology. The play does this in part by offering characters who are relatively generic and devoid of any backstory or distinguishing characteristics—the little backstory that the play gives for Jean, for example, in no way offers any insight into who he is why he ultimately succumbs. By doing this, Ionesco makes it clear that it’s not just identifiably evil villains who discover and promote harmful ideologies like fascism. Instead, the play suggests, anyone—from the office secretary to one’s coworkers and even best friends—is susceptible to such things, no matter a person’s sex, educational level, marital status, or anything else.
Through the characters’ blind acceptance of the rhinoceroses’ presence, Ionesco also suggests that fascism, as rhinoceritis’s real-world parallel, is able to spread in part by preying on people’s sense of humanity and a desire to understand the other side of the argument in a rational, logical way. Although this desire may seem noble, within the world of the play this leads, without fail, to making excuses in the name of rationality or fairness while ignoring the pain and suffering that the rhinoceroses cause. When Berenger’s coworker Dudard visits him a few days into the rhinoceroses’ takeover, he and Berenger discuss that all of their coworkers and friends have since become rhinoceroses. Rather than express outrage at the damage that the rhinoceroses cause or fear for his own safety as he talks about navigating the overrun town, Dudard encourages Berenger to keep an open mind and consider the possibility that, for example, their boss Mr. Papillon may have become a rhinoceros because he was bored and tired of office life—a distinct possibility, but one that still ignores the fact that Mr. Papillion is now committing violent and destructive acts as a rhinoceros. Berenger refuses to play into Dudard’s line of thinking, suggests that Mr. Papillion had a moral imperative to resist such an urge, and essentially makes the case that people’s reasons for becoming a rhinoceros don’t matter in light of the inexcusable things they do in their new forms. It’s impossible, he insists, to ignore the fact that rhinoceritis—or fascism—is harmful, just because someone’s reasons for believing in the ideology make sense. Instead, the attempts to make sense of a person’s reasons only provide more legitimacy for the ideology or movement itself and, for this reason, should be avoided or treated with intense caution.
Especially once Berenger and Daisy discover that the rhinoceroses have taken over the radio, the phone lines, and that even the firefighters have become rhinoceroses, the play makes it clear that fascism and other extreme and harmful ideologies aren’t to be trifled with. If allowed to flourish, all aspects of infrastructure will inevitably be compromised, and society will thus break down into an unintelligible violence. With this, Ionesco simultaneously condemns the actions of the thousands of people in Germany and Romania who allowed fascist movements to gain traction and carry out unspeakable violence, while also encouraging readers or audiences to look critically at their own world. Fascism, he suggests, can crop up anywhere—but if enough people can be like Berenger and refuse to rationalize it in its early stages and refuse to accept the violence that follows, it may be possible to stop it before it’s too late.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Fascism ThemeTracker
Fascism Quotes in Rhinoceros
Logician: Here is an example of a syllogism. A cat has four paws. Isidore and Fricot both have four paws. Therefore Isidore and Fricot are both cats.
Old Gentleman: My dog has got four paws.
Logician: Then it’s a cat.
[…]
Old Gentleman: […] Logic is a very beautiful thing.
Logician: As long as it is not abused.
Old Gentleman: What can you do, dear lady—cats are only mortal.
Logician: What do you expect, madam? All cats are mortal. One must accept that.
Housewife: (Lamenting.) My little cat, my poor little cat.
Berenger: (To Jean.) I’m not Asiatic, either, And in any case, Asiatics are people the same as everyone else.
Waitress: Yes, Asiatics are people the same as we are.
Old Gentleman: (To the Proprietor.) That’s true!
Grocer: —it may be logical, but are we going to stand for our cats being run down under our very eyes by one-horned rhinoceroses or two, whether they’re Asiatic or African?
Jean: You always see the black side of everything. It obviously gave him great pleasure to turn into a rhinoceros. There’s nothing extraordinary in that.
Berenger: […] There’s nothing extraordinary in it, but I doubt if it gave him much pleasure.
Jean: And why not, pray?
Berenger: It’s hard to say exactly why; it’s just something you feel.
Jean: I tell you it’s not as bad as all that. […] After all, rhinoceroses are living creatures the same as us; they’ve got as much right to life as we have.
Berenger: As long as they don’t destroy ours in the process. You must admit the difference in mentality.
Jean: […] Are you under the impression— […] that our way of life is superior?
Berenger: Well, at any rate, we have our own moral standards which I consider incompatible with the standards of these animals.
Dudard: Perhaps he felt an urge for some fresh air, the country, the wide-open spaces—perhaps he felt a need to relax. I’m not saying that’s any excuse…
Berenger: I understand what you mean, at least I’m trying to. […]
Dudard: Why get upset over a few cases of rhinoceritis? Perhaps it’s just another disease.
Dudard: What if you do? They don’t attack you. If you leave them alone, they just ignore you. You can’t say they’re spiteful. They’ve even got a certain natural innocence, a sort of frankness. Besides, I walked right along the avenue to get here, and I arrived safe and sound, didn’t I? No trouble at all.
Berenger: If only it had happened somewhere else, in some other country, and we’d just read about it in the papers, one could discuss it quietly, examine the question from all points of view, and come to an objective conclusion. We could organize debates with professors and writers and lawyers, and bluestockings and artists and people. And the ordinary man in the street as well—it would be very interesting and instructive. But when you’re involved yourself, when you suddenly find yourself up against the brutal facts, you can’t help feeling directly concerned—
Dudard: I consider it’s silly to get worked up because a few people decide to change their skins. They just didn’t feel happy in the ones they had. They’re free to do as they like.
Berenger: We must attack the evil at the roots.
Dudard: The evil! That’s just a phrase. Who knows what is evil and what is good? It’s just a question of personal preferences. […]
Berenger: There you are, you see. If our leaders and fellow citizens all think like you, they’ll never take any action.
Berenger: A rhinoceros! […] Mr. Papillon a rhinoceros! I can’t believe it. I don’t think it’s funny at all. […] Why did’t you tell me before?
Dudard: Well, you know you’ve no sense of humor. I didn’t want to tell you. […] I didn’t want to tell you because I knew very well you wouldn’t see the funny side, and it would upset you. You know how impressionable you are.
Berenger: I’m not very well up in philosophy. I’ve never studied; you’ve got all sorts of diplomas. That’s why you’re so at ease in discussion, whereas I never know what to answer—I’m so clumsy. […] But I do feel you’re in the wrong—I feel it instinctively—no, that’s not what I mean, it’s the rhinoceros which has instinct—I feel it intuitively, yes, that’s the word—intuitively.
Dudard: If he was a genuine thinker, as you say, he couldn’t have got carried away. He must have weighed all the pros and cons before deciding.
Berenger: They should be all rounded up in a big enclosure, and kept under strict supervision.
Dudard: That’s easier said than done. The animal’s protection league would never allow it.
Daisy: And besides, everyone has a close relative or a friend among them, and that would make it even more difficult.
Berenger: So everybody’s mixed up in it.
Daisy: I never knew you were such a realist—I thought you were more poetic. Where’s your imagination? There are many sides to reality. Choose the one that’s best for you. Escape into the world of the imagination.
