As season 2 of Westworld comes to a close we are left to assess the damage and count the bodies; both human and host alike. Like many other HBO success stories, Westworld is as thought provoking as it is entertaining, weaving in big issues and themes like autonomy, consciousness and the human condition, with the raw excitement of sci-fi and cowboys. But the real issue at the heart of this season has been the age old question: what does it mean to be human?

The divide between the hosts and the humans was clearly established at the start of the season. Scenes depicting the hosts being built and programmed helped to dehumanise them. Scenes showing hosts killing humans helped to cement the idea of them vs us. Early on we discover a lab where hosts are built; hosts that obey commands and have no real flesh or bone. We also catch glimpses of specialised security hosts with no human features – just tall, white sentinels of obedience. This discovery isn’t particularly jarring for the audience. After all, the hosts are just robots at the end of the day, aren’t they?

As the story progresses, the clearly defined lines that make humans and hosts different begin to blur. Rather than mere robots, the hosts become another form of human; they become the ‘other’ humans.

We see the host Maeve take control of her consciousness and free will, and follow her on her journey to be reunited with the daughter from her past life. Her feelings are so strong that they help her to defy her programming as a madam and drive her to travel through dangerous and unknown worlds to find the host that was once programmed to be her daughter. In the end, Maeve even sacrifices herself to save the life of her daughter.

The strength of her maternal drive is even enough to unlock power within her mind (or so it appears) that grants her free will. She is no longer a slave to human command, and is able to control other hosts in a way not even the humans can. This can be likened to the super-human strength that comes of the bond between a mother and child. In this case Maeve is not lifting a car off her child, but instead she is lifting the veil of blissful ignorance put in place by humans in order to find and protect her daughter. Maeve’s importance in this second season cannot be understated; the bond of motherhood is a universally humanising feat.

The message of Maeve’s story is strengthened by those around her. On her journey she encounters Akane; a geisha in Shogun World who mirrors the role of Maeve. She too has a ‘daughter’ named Sakura with whom she feels the same familial bond. Akane’s devastation when Sakura dies is amplified by Maeve who fears the loss of her own child and grieves with Akane. This grief – the grief of losing a child – is deeply humanising. What could be more human than mourning the loss of a loved one?

The plight of Maeve is also acknowledged by the humans she interacts with. Felix and Sylvester are ‘livestock management technicians’ initially tasked with decommissioning Maeve. After seeing her resolve to be reunited with her daughter, they eventually join forces with her and help her on her journey instead. Even the host scriptwriter Lee Sizemore – the man who wrote the dialogue and storylines for all the hosts – recognises how special Maeve is, and sacrifices himself so that she has the chance to find her daughter. Humans, dying to save hosts.

Once we have established that the hosts hold the essence of humanity in them, Westworld takes it one step further. In episode eight we formally meet Akecheta of the Ghost Nation; a host that remembers his previous life with his soul mate Kiksuya. We follow along with the retelling of their love story, as he takes us from the moment he first realised things weren’t quite right in Westworld, through to the heart breaking realisation that Kiksuya has been decommissioned; something akin to death for the hosts.

Akecheta describes how things just aren’t right in Westworld. To him, things don’t seem normal or natural, and he starts to alert other characters to the unusual world they live in. He makes it his mission to ‘wake up’ other hosts to the reality of their world; the reality that the world they are living in isn’t real. It is no accident that Akechata and the other characters who comment on the unnaturalness of the world are Native American hosts. The weight of the Ghost Nation feeling displaced in their own world speaks volumes for the way the hosts have come to feel like they do not belong in a place they previously did; they feel as though strangers have come in and changed the way things are supposed to be.

The analogy here is obvious, and serves as commentary on a new type of colonialism; technological colonialism. The idea that big companies with lots of resources can rule the world simply because of their infinite resources and influence over people who subscribe to their power. This comes to a head in the finale, when we see for the first time the library of people saved inside the system of Westworld; a library from which they hope to literally construct humans.

By this point, we the viewer have already been positioned to sympathise with the plight of the hosts. The humans have become the ‘other’ in their own story. The concerns and the drives of the hosts are universal, and all they seek is the freedom to make their own choices. This ache for free will and the ability to make decisions for themselves is as much a part of being human as being born. The higher level of thinking that allows us to consider humanity, self-sacrifice, and many other complex ideas is part of what makes us human.

Westworld is a clever show for a lot of reasons, even if you can’t quite put your finger on it. Whether it is because of their complex consideration of the human condition, or the fact that the last episode leaves you with more questions than answers, there’s no denying that there is plenty to unwrap. But perhaps the most important message is this: being human is not just about what you’re made of. It’s what you make of yourself.

Image source: https://www.wired.co.uk/