Mary Shelley's Frankenstein presents a profound philosophical tension between dualism and materialism, shaping its central conflicts and the tragic fates of its characters. The novel implicitly questions whether human beings are defined solely by their physical substance or if an immaterial soul or consciousness plays a defining role. Victor Frankenstein's hubristic pursuit of life through scientific manipulation of matter directly confronts this dichotomy, while the Creature's own desperate search for identity and acceptance highlights the limitations of a purely materialist worldview in explaining human experience. Ultimately, the novel suggests that while matter provides the vessel, the absence of a recognized spiritual or emotional core, or the denial of it, leads to devastating consequences.
Victor's ambition is rooted in a materialist impulse, a desire to conquer death by reanimating inert matter. He believes that by assembling and energizing a physical form, he can overcome the dualist separation of body and spirit, effectively cheating mortality. His laboratory, filled with "instruments of life," reflects this focus on the physical components of existence. He gathers "bones from charnel-houses" and "skin and muscles," aiming to construct a being from sheer physicality. Yet, his success is precisely where the materialist approach falters. The moment the Creature opens its "dull yellow eye," Victor is repulsed not by a physical flaw, but by the perceived absence of a soul, a spark of divine or human essence that he had failed to imbue. This immediate recoil suggests Victor's own deep-seated, perhaps unconscious, belief in a dualist framework; he sought to recreate life, but the quality of that life, its animating spirit, is what truly matters and what he cannot engineer. His subsequent despair stems from the realization that he has created a physical body devoid of the spiritual or emotional qualities he associates with humanity, a creature that is purely material yet capable of profound suffering and malevolence.
The Creature's journey is a powerful exploration of the inadequacy of a purely material existence. Initially, he is a tabula rasa, a blank slate whose consciousness is formed through sensory experience and observation of the material world around him. He learns language by listening to the De Lacey family, observes their emotional bonds, and experiences hunger, cold, and loneliness. This process of learning and self-awareness seems to support a materialist view, where experience shapes the mind. However, the Creature's burgeoning selfhood is not solely a product of his physical senses. He develops a complex inner life, a profound capacity for love, desire, and, crucially, anguish. His yearning for companionship and acceptance, his internal monologue about his own existence and his creator's abandonment, transcends mere biological drives. When he is rejected, not because of his physical form's inadequacy but because of its horrifying appearance, it highlights the dualist aspect of human perception. People react to the idea of him, the perceived spiritual or moral corruption that his appearance signifies, rather than just his material makeup. His subsequent acts of violence, while born from material suffering, are fueled by a deep emotional and existential despair, a spiritual void created by his creator's dualist failure – his failure to grant him not just a body, but a soul or at least a place within a morally and emotionally coherent universe.
The novel's tragic trajectory suggests that a purely materialist understanding of life is insufficient. Victor's attempt to bypass the traditional, perhaps divinely ordained, creation of life—which implicitly involves a spiritual or soul-bearing aspect—results in monstrous outcomes. He treats life as a mechanism, a collection of parts to be assembled. The Creature’s suffering, on the other hand, illustrates that a physical form, even one endowed with consciousness through experience, requires more than just matter to be considered fully alive or human. It requires connection, love, and recognition of its inherent worth, elements that often fall into the dualist domain of spirit and emotion. The inability of society, and Victor himself, to see beyond the Creature's material form and acknowledge its inner turmoil underscores the novel's critique of a society that may be outwardly progressing scientifically but remains spiritually or emotionally stunted, trapped in its own form of dualist prejudice.
In conclusion, Frankenstein uses the philosophical debate between dualism and materialism to explore the very nature of life, consciousness, and humanity. Victor's materialist ambition leads him to create a being that exposes the limitations of such a view, while the Creature's suffering reveals the profound need for emotional and spiritual connection that transcends mere physical existence. The novel ultimately argues for a more integrated understanding of human beings, one that acknowledges both the importance of the physical body and the undeniable reality of an inner life, a spirit that defines our humanity and our capacity for both good and evil.