Ken Kesey’s novel One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest pits two polar opposites – the Big Nurse, Miss Ratched, and Randle Patrick McMurphy – against each other. Differing forces exist in the ward which both dwell in, leading to tension and inevitable conflict. The work proves to be an epic of human dignity and potential. Each conflicting character has its own respective meaning: the Big Nurse represents restrictive, conformist, punitive influence based on order and inflexibility; while McMurphy symbolizes self-sufficiency, blithe individuality, and disobedient reform. The two adversaries initiate the persistent clash of personas right away. It is a constant battle of the two sides for the soul of the men who spend their time in the establishment. A significance of McMurphy’s initials, RPM, is evident in the service he provides for the men; as the wily, crafty con man does indeed resemble an engine in that he needs new blood to continue performing properly and invigorates those he comes in contact with. On his first day in the institution, Nurse Ratched realizes immediately that the broad, beat-up 30-year-old Korean War veteran will pose as a threat that could foil her tyrannical ways. McMurphy enters the ward a self-determined, boisterous man, unaware of what goes on in mental institutions. He arrives laughing, surprisingly, and projects his voice above everyone else’s; in the same breath shocked by the fact that a “50-year-old blue-haired old lady” is running all of the men’s lives. McMurphy is the atypical mental patient, a larger-than-life figure who approaches any situation thrust upon him with a nonchalant, often jolly attitude of stimulating self-expression. His entry begins the transfer of the vital life force he possesses to those around him. McMurphy is the story’s rowdy, lusty, gambling hero; he is a wild animal who takes to playing practical jokes and trying to upset the routine of the ward right off the bat. He finds the schedule preposterous, questioning every ward policy. His initial motive is strictly to win bets with the men, but gradually he gets drawn into fighting for them. This is apparent when he points out the supposedly self-governing Therapeutic Community system and, in turn, makes a bet that he can “get the Nurse’s goat.” He then proceeds to gleefully expose his white-whale boxer shorts to the Nurse, sing and brush his teeth with soap in protest, conduct both World Series votes, unselfishly organize and coach the ward basketball team, and plan the fishing expedition. The adolescent prankster does so by undermining the Nurse’s authority, “being bad in a good way.” From his genuine laugh to his desire for ward reform, the newcomer “Mac” is a person who normalizes and loosens up those around him. He is the antithesis of what the Nurse needs to remain satisfied and what everyone there has grown accustomed to. His sanity deviates from the acceptable norm and he consistently attempts to weaken Ratched’s influence. The noisy, dirty, and self-assured (sometimes even cocky) McMurphy is not crazy, but in reality striving to manipulate the system to his benefit. He is also an individual representative of sexual liberty. Sexuality is a key component of sanity, and the restraint of sexual urges is a major foundation for psychosis. McMurphy’s unconcealed articulation of his own sexual freedom is ubiquitous, from the fifty-two images of sexual positions on each of his playing cards to his memories of youthful sexual activity. This unashamed manifestation clashes dramatically with the emotionally barren ward Nurse Ratched struggles to uphold. McMurphy frequently disobeys the tyrant’s orders – he wears “just” a towel, pinches her rear, and comments on her large breasts. The dictatorial Nurse diagnoses Randle as a manipulating sex maniac who uses everything to his own ends; yet others claim that he has a big heart, doing everything possible to assist others; thus displaying the dichotomy within his character. McMurphy later becomes cagey due to his discovery that the Nurse wields absolute control over his existence on the ward, possessing the power to decide his fate, keep him committed as long as she desires, and inflict upon him whichever treatment she deems necessary. The once-jovial Randle becomes temporarily docile, halting his constant harassment of Ratched, his “Nemesis.”* Easily visible is his diminishing mental state, as he becomes truly angry for the first time and loses his confidence. His awareness of his own complacency, however, sways him to recommence his former insurgence in an alternative, more informed manner. His actions become aimed solely towards the well-being of the men around him. Despite his mental state, the man who never lost a fight punches through the glass window between the Nurse’s enclosure and the men, alleging that he “didn’t know it was there.” This allusion to invisibility signifies the subtle authority the Nurse has over the inmates, acting in such a way that they often forget about it. The window is a symbol of her isolation from the patients, and he shatters that barrier. McMurphy’s action reminds them of her omnipresent control over the hospital, yet at the same time implies that she is not an invincible entity. Her thin veneer of empathy, however, does not faze him like it does the rest of the patients; he is not taken in by her façade of misleadingly salutary tactics. The reason why McMurphy is capable of ruffling Ratched’s feathers is because he “plays her game.” He agitates her by discovering her weak spots, flustering her by throwing off her robotic, preset routine. McMurphy’s unrelenting battle prohibiting the oppressive forces of the Combine from turning him into a mechanical drone continues long enough for him to transfer his sense of individualism to the other patients. The influence of Nurse Ratched and her ability to incite his undomesticated tendencies, however, prove to be the source of his downfall, as he is eventually annihilated by contemporary society’s machines of coercion. The Big Nurse serves as the sterile antagonist with her habitual cruelty and systematic agenda. This nickname is somewhat evocative of Big Brother – the designation in George Orwell’s 1984 given to the tale’s repressive and omniscient authority; and is also a possible reference to size. Chief Bromden sees power in terms of literal size, and Nurse Ratched swells up so large that she towers over everyone when angry. In addition, the name Ratched is perhaps a phonetic and visual allusion to her nature. By definition, a “ratchet” is “a mechanism consisting of a pawl that engages the sloping teeth of a wheel or bar, permitting motion in one direction only.”# This is a perfect portrayal of her temperament, a former Army nurse who requires that everything is in order. Her meticulous, overbearing nature makes her obsessed with attention to detail, which proves to be similar to a machine in that it runs on a set schedule each day. The way in which she operates the ward and each of its respective activities her way only is a spitting image of how the related mechanism functions in only one direction. The similar-sounding “wretched” may also give light to the Nurse’s character. The mental hospital run by Miss Ratched is a twisted place of inhabitance that influences the fates of all the patients. The Nurse has absolute, immutable jurisdiction over all aspects and is nearly stolid emotionally. She intimidates her subjects and stifles any developing form of individuality. Her power is sustained by inflicting shame and guilt upon the patients as well as by her “divide and conquer” strategy. Ratched is the model authoritarian: tender yet rigid, attractive yet ugly, appealing yet repulsive, calm yet excited, subtle yet direct. Her unwavering aim is to keep things as neat and efficient as possible, and she keeps everyone in line in order to do that. Harding cites the men as “victims of a matriarchy.” The Nurse causes them to become cowards, and disruption to her is failure. She serves as an implacable Nazi-ish force, zoning in on their petty, trivial imperfections in her subjects; manipulating the inmates by hinting at things but never actually mentioning them explicitly. Her rule over the men is so excruciating that she can get them to abase themselves by mere silence. She is the governing force at Group Meetings, even in McMurphy’s presence; and she runs them like medieval torture sessions, with patients becoming submissive in hopes of pleasing her. The reasons behind her devious ways to ascertain information are unknown to the patients, as she disguises such methods as the log book as being wholly incentives. This duality allows her to act as a so-called “angel of mercy” while also humiliating the inmates into compliance via guilt and disapproval; she is conscious of their vulnerability and knows precisely where to strike. One of the Big Nurse’s most commanding devices is to treat the men like little children: with pity and disparagement. She also wields her power via sexual belittlement, emotional deprecation, and social anxiety. Succumbing to these forces initiates overall despair, and violent insubordination only serves as a medium for further penalty in the form of shock treatment and occasional lobotomies. The men inhabit an institution completely devoid of healthy, natural expressions of sexuality between two individuals. As a result of Miss Ratched’s castrating rule, Harding refers to the men as “comical little creatures who can’t even achieve masculinity in the rabbit world.” The Nurse herself is a symbol of repressed sexuality; perhaps due to the fact that she cannot exhibit any, especially in a room with forty men. She is prim and proper on the outside; and has only a single badge of distinctive femininity. This seemingly aberrant, distinguishingly nonmechanical and undoubtedly human feature is exhibited in her large bosom, which she makes sure she covers up at all times beneath her heavily starched uniform. Her large breasts both emanate sexuality and stress her role as a perverse mother figure for the ward. She tries to hide her breasts from the very beginning; their size is an embarrassment, making them even more difficult to conceal. Chief Bromden feels that the “fog” he experiences is created by a scheme of devices utilized by the female in charge; apparatuses functioning as dogmatic structures employed to eliminate all innate human impulses and drive inmates mad. The Nurse’s entrance is marked by “a gust of cold;” and she is herself the Combine: mechanizing, dehumanizing, condescending, and emasculating. The Big Nurse is also representative of automation, for she too is in sync with her surroundings. Bromden is so convinced of her authority that he even attributes the passage of time to her, as well as the actions and conversations of most of the men. She takes on mythic proportions in his mind, as someone so powerful that she can run anything she wants to. As explained by the Chief, there is only one way to defeat the Big Nurse: “To beat her you don’t have to whip her two out of three or three out of five, but every time you meet. As soon as you let down your guard, as soon as you lose once, she’s won for good. And eventually we all got to lose. Nobody can help that.”1 In the Chief’s eyes, she has designed the institution to manufacture people who conform to society: “Yes. This is what I know. The ward is a factory for the Combine. It’s for fixing up mistakes made in the neighborhoods and in the schools and in the churches, the hospital is. When a completed product goes back out into society, all fixed up good as new, better than new sometimes, it brings joy to the Big Nurse’s heart.”1 No one but Bromden is truly aware of her “hideous self,” for she regains her porcelain, “baby doll” face and enamel-like complexion upon her return to the more “public” section of the ward, before any of the other inmates can catch a glimpse of the real Ratched. Her ability to present a false self implies the fact that the domineering forces in society gain ascendance through the dishonesty of the powerful. Oblivious of the dominion, the meek slowly become weakened and gradually are subsumed. The inverse relationship between the fate of the story’s protagonist and its narrator is quite obvious: as the story progressed, McMurphy underwent the transition from being large, powerful, and independent to a mad, feeble vegetable; while the Chief made a transformation from subdued and psychotic to sane and revitalized. McMurphy proves to be a seriously detrimental influence on the Big Nurse’s reign when he rips the shirt of her uniform open, emblematically uncovering her hypocrisy and deceit. He also tries to strangle her, but it’s the humiliation of revealing that even she has something to be ashamed of that destroys her power more than anything else. The Nurse becomes virtually powerless, now no longer able to keep them in line and run the ward like she had been doing since before even the Chief had arrived. Her once-characteristic composure is lost, thus ending her dominance and commencing her solely nonverbal communication to the inmates, her final undoing. Their joint demise signals the termination of the conflict between the two forces at work and the commencement of new lives for those which they had tremendously affected.