Soma. A drug of which “one cubic centimetre cures ten gloomy sentiments,” soma is what the “civilized” people in the novel consume uncritically whenever they feel the slightest discomfort. Unlike real drugs, it is presented as having no side effects. But is that really so? By satisfying the most immediate and superficial desires of the population with extraordinary ease, soma becomes one of the pillars supporting the entire system. Readers feel a kind of disgust as they watch people reach instinctively into their pockets for soma at the first sign of unease. We recognize that their happiness has been manufactured: it is not genuine happiness, but pleasure prescribed by the system.
Happiness obtained effortlessly from a single pill seems meaningless precisely because nothing has been endured to attain it. Admittedly, it is extremely difficult to establish a qualitative standard for happiness, but happiness gained without confronting any difficulty strikes me as empty. Soma therefore has a greater side effect than any ordinary drug: it enables people to turn away from painful reality. To do so seems contemptible from beginning to end. Human beings can barely develop into fully formed persons without repeatedly confronting suffering, so choosing meaningless happiness over pain is something we should resist.
Yet I cannot be sure that I, of all people, could make that “wise” choice. I do not know whether I possess the courage to endure such suffering. Perhaps I would only know when the moment arrived. Even now I cannot say with certainty whether I would choose manufactured happiness or painful reality. Still, I know that confronting pain is the right thing to do.