Surreal or Hyperreal? Applying Theory to Disaster
By Karen Sternheimer
How often do you use the word “surreal” to describe an unusual or otherwise mind-boggling experience? That’s the word that kept coming to mind when visiting the remains of my home for the first time two months after it burned down. The AI overview of the word “surreal” describes it as “strange, dreamlike, or unbelievable, often seeming detached from ordinary reality and evoking a sense of the uncanny or fantastic.” Yep, that’s the word.
It got me thinking about the differences—and similarities—between surreal and hyperreal—a concept central to postmodern theory which sociologists have sometimes used to critique traditional theoretical approaches. Can sociological theory help teach us about the meanings we make of disaster?
Salvador Dali’s famous surrealist painting, The Persistence of Memory features melting clocks on a beach. The image below of what remains of my home is not unlike surrealist images, with the melted jumble of debris set in what remains a beautiful mountain landscape.
I was struck by the juxtaposition of unrecognizable charred items with plates, bowls, and cups, some of them apparently undamaged. Odd juxtapositions are a staple in many surrealist paintings.
If surrealism is a sort of “melting” of reality, it accurately describes the experience. I have come to accept the reality of what happened but going back to a charred neighborhood devoid of neighbors and now replaced with trucks, heavy equipment, and contractors, was, well surreal. National Guard troops monitor the entrance to the neighborhood, and we had to show a pass to drive through what used to be a routine commute. Signs repeatedly warned of dangerous debris, ash, and other hazards as we headed back “home.” It was home, but it wasn’t any more, at least for now.
We hadn’t exactly planned our return visit but were at a disaster recovery center where they give passes for residents to enter the area. The county public health department also provided us with hazmat suits, goggles, masks, gloves, and booties for protection, so we decided, why not?
As we approached the neighborhood, I wondered how I would feel. Would I be emotional, repeating the scenes we see on the news every time homes are lost to a fire? Isn’t this how the experience is “supposed” to go for everyone?
This represents the hyperreal, a blending of mediated signs and symbols with everyday experiences. As I wrote about in 2015, the French sociologist Jean Baudrillard described the postmodern condition as one characterized by a frenzy of images that ultimately blur the mediated images with the “real.” The separation between the two thus collapses, creating the hyperreal.
“Losing a home to fire” was hyperreal as well as surreal. Much of what I “knew” about this experience was mediated; the interview with the grieving homeowner has become such a staple after a fire that the mediated footage is itself “hyperreal.” It both reflects and reproduces the “experience” of losing one’s home, as news producers regularly include this in the package of fire stories.
I still find that people’s reactions to hearing that I lost my home in a fire are rooted in hyperreality—the mediated extremely emotional images that are so frequent we can no longer place their origin. I now find myself needing to explain that the actual experience is quite different, for me at least. Rather than an endless loop of emotion, as mediated images of sadness, loss, and anger suggest, for me this has been a surreal dreamscape that I still have trouble wrapping my mind around. Visiting the rubble felt more like an archeological dig, one that felt dangerous because of the possibility of sharp edges, rusty metal, and potential toxins. It was more of experience of fascination--something Baudrillard discussed--than sadness; more of a science experiment (what happened to all my stuff?) than mourning.
Photos courtesy of the author
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