What does it mean to be human? Rene Descartes argued that humanity was a question of consciousness; Charles Darwin believed the answer was written in our DNA; Sia crooned that “[to] be human is to love”. For centuries, the world has struggled to find a conclusive response, and in an era defined by the development artificial intelligence and talking robots, the answer only gets more and more complicated.
When we live in a time where we can hold conversations with Siri and watch Sofia the Robot become a citizen of Saudi Arabia, the line between man and machine blurs increasingly. The Academy Award winning film Blade Runner 2049 offers a contemporary answer: Above all else, beyond physical biology or abstract emotion, humanity is defined by the character of one’s actions and deeds. Against the real-world backdrop of accelerated technological growth and through the use of stunning visual, aesthetic, and stylistic choices, Blade Runner 2049 provides a unique and successful redefinition of what humanity is.
Directed by Denis Villeneuve, Blade Runner 2049 is the neo-noir science fiction continuation of the cult classic Blade Runner. With the help of Niander Wallace, head of Tyrell Corporation, mankind has expanded to new worlds through the slave labor of replicants, or bio-engineered humans. With the massive rise of replicant numbers, a new class of police enforcement is born- the blade runner.
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The plot of the film follows ‘K’, a next-generation replicant blade runner specifically tasked with hunting and killing rogue replicants, after he discovers the remains of a female replicant who died from a caesarean section. Previously thought impossible, the implications of replicant sexual reproduction and the possible human-replicant war it could cause launch K and the characters around him into a dark, gritty, but deeply philosophical exploration of the identity of mankind.
Humanity, at its simplest level, is thought to be most easily defined by physical biology. Provide more context. The society presented in the film defines itself and its order from a derivation of this and follows two simple biological facts: Humans are born, and replicants are made. The presence of a miracle child born to two replicants disproves the whole notion that one must be born to be human. Using biology to justify humanity is therefore not only too loose of a diagnostic criteria, but is also hypocritical of the film’s so-called “humanity”.
To be a non-replicant and define one’s superiority by the way one is born is thus to be the biggest hypocrite. This hypocrisy is further shown in the “birth” of normal replicants. In Niander Wallace’s office, we observe how a replicant is born: Wallace slices open a sack, and a replicant falls out. It’s easy to think that such a bizarre process is the exact opposite of a human birth, but deliberate aesthetic and stylistic choices draw parallels between replicant and human birth. The replicant is contained in and covered with a sort of amniotic fluid- a deliberate aesthetic choice to reflect a human birth, as replicants technically don’t need the protection from the fluid as human fetuses do.
The replicant falls out naked, shivering, and crying, much like a human infant, but more interestingly, the replicant is as completely innocent to the world as a newborn human. It can not speak or stand on its own, contrary to the assumption that replicants are produced fully and instantly ready for the world. Replicants aren’t assembled on a factory line like one would think- they’re born. The human reproductive system is just replicated on a larger, more accelerated scale. Because the processes of ‘birthing’ a replicant and making a human are biologically identical, the film thus suggests that humans and replicants are only two sides of the same coin- replicants simply have the misfortune of landing face down.
If biology cannot be used to define humanity, then surely emotions must. As the creator of replicants, Niander Wallace is considered the “most human” being, and should, by this definition, have the widest, deepest range of emotion. However, this isn’t the case: Wallace is unfeeling and merciless. He kills without sentiment, as shown when he leaves the afore mentioned replicant to die minutes after its birth. Perhaps more important than his own lack of feeling is the fact that Wallace truly cannot understand emotion. In an attempt to get Rick Dekkard as an ally, Wallace creates a near-perfect replica of Dekkard’s deceased lover, Rachel.
Yet much to his bewilderment, Dekkard, who spends much of his life yearning for her, rejects the replica, delivering the infamous line, “Her eyes were green.” To us, it’s easy to see why he’d turn from the copy- a love that true can be imitated, but never duplicated. Being with her, but not the real her, is a cruel fate. Wallace’s rage and confusion reveals that he doesn’t understand love enough to recognize why Deckard wouldn’t want an exact replica of his old lover. The being considered most human can not comprehend the core of the most human emotion. He doesn’t understand human emotion or love- that’s why he gets the eyes, the window to the soul, wrong.
One might argue, then, that the huge spectrum of emotions found in Joi, K’s holographic girlfriend, suggests complete humanity. Joi is loving and compassionate; she cares for K and wants to be with him in all ways and for always. But, really, that’s not her. Ultimately, she’s a computer program, an algorithm written to be “whatever you want her to be”, like her advertisements say. Joi has all the emotions one would think a “human” should have, but in the end, it’s not her.
If not by birth nor feeling, what aspect of humanity remains? Only the content of one’s heart. The character of one’s deeds truly defines humanity, highlighted in the selfless acts featured in the film. Sapper Morton, an older-model replicant, remains on his planet where blade runners can find him. He knows that he is marked for inevitable death, but he makes no attempts at hiding or fleeing in order to give someone else’s child a chance at life.
There is no code telling him to do so, no algorithm that calculated the possible outcomes of this scenario. In the context of survival (Asimov’s Third Law of Robotics), his actions are completely senseless. Sapper’s willingness to sacrifice himself shows the pure, uncorrupted human sense of charity. He did this out of the goodness of his most human part- his heart. The altruism of his actions are a testament to his humanity. In his sacrifice, he is the most human anyone can be. Sapper’s selflessness is shown aesthetically through cinematography and set design.
All scenes with Sapper feature unblemished shots of pure white skies or clean white light pouring through windows. White, linked with purity, goodness, and holiness, contrasts with the dark, gritty lifestyle featured in most of the other scenes, emphasizing Sapper’s humanity. Moreover, Sapper is the only character that has some sort of home. Scenes focus on little, mundane things Sapper has around his house- a piano, a boiling pot, a small plant. In contrast with the fast-paced neon wasteland, his home reflects the human he is. With no ties to a special cause, knowing that he is not the miracle child, K still sacrifices himself for what he believes is the greater good. K is, for the most part, ordinary.
Unlike Sapper, he “never saw a miracle” that convinced him of a better cause. There is no construct, no programming protocol, and quite frankly, no desire to help Rick Dekkard or the rebellion, and yet K makes the conscious decision to do what he feels is right. He knows that it will ultimately get him killed, he knows that the results of what happens will never affect him, and yet he is willing to die just to do the right thing. His struggle with his identity, with his past, with his loss culminates at his decision to help others before himself. In choosing to sacrifice himself, in choosing the greater good, K becomes the most human of all. In his death, K lies upon a set of stairs and watches the snow fall around him.
The stairs are a symbol for the stairs to heaven; the snow symbolic of death. Yet there is hope in this scene- the peace upon K’s face; the crisp, cleansing white of the snow. And of course, the return of the original Blade Runner theme song, “Tears in Rain”, highlights K’s actions as an evolution of the replicants that came before him. Snow is, of course, only a different form of rain, just as his sacrifices are only a different form of the sacrifices that previous replicants made. K saves the lives of others because he cannot save his own, and, in doing so, becomes more human than even you or me.
With that definition of humanity, Blade Runner 2049 also provides a commentary for serious, contemporary societal concerns. We, as a society, fear that technology will overtake us, turn our landscape into the neon desert of the film’s landscape. Robots can already make our burgers; artificial intelligence can pick out our faces in a sea of a hundred thousand others. But the film shows that there are greater things to be afraid of than technology. We must be afraid of what technology makes us. We must always be conscious of our actions and how they affect others.
We must choose who we are going to be even with the influence of such technology and fears. Will we be Niander Wallace, deadly and mercenary in our drive for success? Or will we be Sapper Morton, altruistic and good in the face of certain death? Only we can decide whether technology turns us into unfeeling Luv or self-sacrificing K. Blade Runner 2049 tells us that no matter what we are, human or holograph, or what we create- artificial intelligence, replicants, holographic girlfriends- the eternal fact of humanity remains: We will always be defined by the character of our deeds. It’s up to us to be the person that we want to be.
Blade Runner 2049 demonstrates that humanity is defined by intent of our actions. What we do for others and what we do for the world, is more important and eternal than our physical composition or our feelings. The film acts as a reminder to always do what is right, even in the face of immense fear or technological adversity. It highlights that humanity is something more than a list of checked boxes: Humanity is more than the presence of the biological, more than emotions or love. It’s not exactly the consciousness that Descartes described or the DNA that Darwin thought or the love that Sia sang about. Humanity is what we do, what we fight for, what we sacrifice. And as they say in Blade Runner 2049, “dying for the right cause is the most human thing we can do”.
