Posted 7:28 PM by Ken

Science fiction is the first human literature

[Note: This year's Novacon is less than a month a way. I'm not sure work and family commitments will allow me to attend, but while rummaging about for some reminiscences of Novacon 36 for this year's Programme Book, I came across my 2006 GoH talk. Here it is.]

The business of writing often begins with days of staring miserably at a blank screen or a smudged sheet of paper with a few pathetic scrawls on it. Well, it does for me, and I imagine it does for many other writers. And then, when the story comes into shape, we spend weeks and months bashing away at a keyboard. And what do we produce? Mainstream fiction writers produce stories of things that never happened. Science fiction writers produce stories not only of that but of things that never will happen. Why do we do it? What's the point of SF? What good does it do?

At the Edinburgh Book Festival earlier this year [2006] I was on a panel with Charlie Stross, and he did a very impressive Charlie-style riff on how SF is actually the agitprop department of an early 20th-century totalitarian movement that never made the big time with the flags and uniforms and revolvers and never got a mound of skulls to call its own. Technocracy, the movement in question, has dwindled to a handful of old men in Oregon, busy putting the Northwest Technocrat on the Web after decades of cyclostyling, but SF soldiers on. It's as if collectivization and the Five-Year Plan had never happened but there was this genre, socialist realism - SR - that kept going on and on and on about tractors.

Now as it happens a few days earlier I'd been at the Book Festival interview with Lewis Wolpert, who was plugging his latest, Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast. One of the many things Professor Wolpert said that struck me as interesting was 'Causal belief is what makes us human'. And, he said, an understanding of cause and effect is itself a cause and a consequence of tool-making. Now that is distinctively human. As Douglas Adams put it, for all the rest of you out there, the trick is to bang the rocks together. Whatever may be said for the tool-making abilities and causal cognitions of African Grey parrots, New Caledonian crows, octopuses, and your cat, not to mention the dreaded six-fingered opposable-thumbed moggies that Leslie Fish is supposedly breeding to have a back-up race that shall rule the sevagram and do all the technocratic stuff in case the human race snuffs it, the fact of the matter is that humans have this ability and this cognition in a way and to an extent that no other species on Earth has.

More importantly, in humans the ability is cumulative, it's self-critical, it's a runaway feedback, it's progressive, and the chains of cause and effect are indefinitely extendable. We build on the work of previous generations, and when we don't we build on their ruins. I mean, I really hope I don't need to labour the point that there's a qualitative difference between a beaver dam and the Hoover Dam. You can make all the claims you like about how intelligence is required by the beaver, but the Hoover Dam or a watermill for that matter is a product of something more. It's what Ian Stewart and Jack Cohen call extelligence. We have it in spades.

So what I was thinking as I was listening to Charlie hold forth so plausibly and amusingly on SF as the pamphleteering of Technocracy was: No! Science fiction is far more significant than that! Let's not sell ourselves short, especially not in front of a Book Festival audience. In fact, let's make the most extreme claim we can think of for science fiction. And my candidate for the most extreme claim is this:

Science fiction is the first human literature.

What I mean is that science fiction is the first literature that is primarily about what is most distinctively human, in the sense I've just described. Not to be too disparaging of mainstream literature, but the mainstream is mostly about things we share with other animals - love and hate, war and peace, dominance hierarchies, sex and violence. Science fiction of course includes these but they are not what it's about. It's a literature of causality, a literature of consequence, a literature of human activity and human agency. It's not primarily about science and technology, but about 'if ...then'. Of 'what if ...?' and 'what about ...?' and 'suppose ...' and 'if this goes on ...'

And it goes about it in a particular and distinctive way, which is itself tool-using and problem-solving, a hands-on can-do approach to the universe, which is why SF's impulse can be mistaken for technocratic, and why it is not mistaken to call it American. 'In the beginning all the world was America,' John Locke said - a new world, and in the end it is all a new world still. If the basic attitude of science is, to quote Douglas Adams again, that 'any idea is there to be attacked', the basic attitude of science fiction is that any problem is there to be fixed. If it deals with a problem that can't be fixed, that is almost always seen within the story as a defeat, a failing, a crushing even, but not as a tragedy or an inevitability or, God help us, a vindication of the story's philosophical premises about the nature of existence. If the problem can't be solved it's because we got the chains of causation wrong, we had mistaken causal beliefs, or the problem was so big it simply overwhelmed us. Better understanding or greater power could, in principle, have overcome it.

I would suggest by the way that this is the real distinction between SF on the one hand and on the other mainstream literature set in the future or on other planets or about technological developments and scientific discoveries. Every SF reader knows, I think, the disappointment, the sense of something missing, when they read a novel like that, usually about clones. Some chromosome hasn't been copied correctly. It's not the material, it's the attitude to the material. Margaret Atwood could write about talking squids in outer space and still not be writing SF. So I don't resent that defensive response, that cloud of squid ink as they jet away, from mainstream writers as much as I used to. We have to acknowledge that yes, they aren't writing SF and they are across the road from our gutter, coming from somewhere else and going somewhere else.

As another aside it may be that the same attitude prevails in certain other genres such as crime fiction and sea adventure stories, which may explain why they are popular with SF readers.

Now I need to make some caveats here. There's a danger of that attitude slipping into a sort of glib optimism about personal and social problems, a danger that has been quite rightly high-lighted by Mike Harrison. Come to think of it, there's a danger of that attitude slipping into glibness in general, in a way that is damaging to serious thinking about serious problems, a danger high-lighted by the Mundane SF school and memorably by Geoff Ryman tearing a strip off an inoffensive and bewildered American rocket entrepreneur and would-be space colonist at last year's [2005] Worldcon.

But having said that word of caution I will now throw caution to the winds and emphasise how radical and new the SF attitude is. For thousands of years literature has shown us man as a fallen creature, man as a rational animal, man as a political animal - all those definitions handed down to us from the philosophies and scriptures of antiquity. It's just over two hundred years since Benjamin Franklin said that man is a tool-making animal, a definition that Marx quoted approvingly in Capital. It took the Industrial Revolution to make Franklin's claim not just credible but obvious. And it's less than a hundred years since Hugo Gernsback smashed together some already existing genres - scientific romances and air adventure stories and future war stories and so on - and created a literature that takes seriously Franklin's definition of the human.

And by doing that, it actually changes human beings' conception of themselves. One of the first things we learn, back at the bash the rocks together stage, is that the changes we make in the world change us. This applies to our literary and imaginative productions too. Patrick Nielsen Hayden is quoted in the current Ansible [232, November 2006] as saying: 'The book is the source code, the brain is the compiler, and the experience produced in the reader is the executable.'

What, then, is the effect of science fiction on the reader? By focusing on humanity as homo faber, man the maker, it implicitly downgrades all distinctions between human beings that are irrelevant to that capacity: those of nation, race, sex, religion and class origin. Class as a position within the production process can be relevant, as can the relationship of that process to the rest of society and to the rest of nature, and these all figure in SF - hence all those engineers and entrepreneurs harried by bureaucrats or mobs.

At a party recently a former SF fan told me about how SF had affected her life. She was, she said, a happy child until the age of nine, when her family moved to a town where the first question she was asked by the first kids she met was: 'Are you a Protestant or a Catholic?' She didn't know, so she went home to ask her mother. Back she came to the park with the answer: 'We're Christians.'

This was the wrong answer.

Around about this time she discovered 1950s SF, and she soon figured out that although much of it was ostensibly about aliens, it was really about black people and white people and women and men. And it gave her the hope, she said, that somewhere in the world we could be free of all this bigotry.

I found her story quite moving, and quite salutary, in that it shows how SF with all its failings and blind spots can still be a force for good. In my experience, both personally and in years of talking to other SF readers and fans, I think the reading of SF instills a certain ideology. It's not at all difficult to identify what that ideology is. It's humanism, Jim, but not as we know it. It's often favourable to various opposed kinds of universalist politics - liberal or libertarian, socialist, even conservative - but seldom to identity politics or nationalist politics. (In fact, where it is nationalist it pretends to be universalist.) It sees humanity as potentially united in the face of an indifferent or hostile universe. It's not friendly to religious fundamentalism of any kind, though it's open to religious belief and indeed to piety, as witness the novels of Orson Scott Card and Gene Wolfe. I suppose it would be possible to write scientific creationist science fiction - Sci-Cre sci-fi! - but it's hard to imagine, let alone to imagine its being any good. Likewise it's hard to imagine explicitly racist SF: the notorious exception, The Turner Diaries, is utterly marginal.

Finally, and I want to make this point particularly to this audience, is that I've found that SF fandom by and large really does reflect the attitudes I've described here. It's what makes fans such good people and such interesting company! There is much more to be done, of course, in terms of broadening SF fandom and making it more open. There is even more to be done in terms of developing the potential of a great literature that, I have argued, we see the beginnings of in SF. But if these things are done, they will be better done if they, too, are done consciously - and that means with an understanding of what SF already does right.

Labels: self-promotion, skiffy, writing

Posted 9:16 PM by Ken

Cockermouth Cafe Sci

Tomorrow (Tuesday 12 Oct) evening I'm doing a gig at Cockermouth Cafe Scientifique, on 'The Synthetic Kingdom'. My pitch:

Craig Ventner's creation of a bacterium with a synthetic genome is a technological breakthrough. But the first response of many was to warn against hubris or hype. Neither warning is justified. We should 'play God', and hype is -- like it or not -- part of the cycle from promise to progress.

The event was organised by one of the Forum's current visiting fellows, the writer and broadcaster Ann Lingard, who is also involved in the sci-art initiative SciTalk.

Labels: coming attractions, genomics, self-promotion

Posted 10:42 AM by Ken

Pyr to publish The Restoration Game in the US next year

Well, the news is out: my novel The Restoration Game is to be published in the US in 2011 by Pyr. The cover will be by Hugo-nominated and (inter alia) BSFA Award-winning artist Stephan Martiniere, whose covers for four of my books published by Tor (the 'Engines of Light' trilogy and Newton's Wake) have been magnificent works of SF art, some of them visualizing scenes from the novels not only vividly, but more accurately than I'd imagined them myself.

Needless to say, I'm very happy about all this.

In related news: Jesse Walker has a brief but enthusiastic review at glossy libertarian monthly Reason.

Labels: self-promotion, skiffy, writing

Posted 10:08 AM by Ken

Poetry Competition

The Genomics Forum's poetry competition, organised by Pippa Goldschmidt, is doing well, with around a hundred entries so far from all over the world.

Deadline: 7 October. So there's still plenty of time to enter. (When the Scottish poet Norman MacCaig was asked how long it took him to write a poem, he answered: 'Two cigarettes.')

Labels: genomics, writing

Posted 7:50 PM by Ken

That iffy skiffy science ...

Over the past few years I've got a lot of mileage (quite literally - one presentation of it was used to finagle funding for a trip to Australia by a science fiction academic speaking at the same conference) out of a talk I first gave to a Communicating Science class at Glasgow University. One of the points I make in that talk is how rare good science is in - not written SF, which, I argue, is largely kept honest by the sharp teeth of the well-read, ravening hordes of SF fandom - but SF in other media.

Especially (as you know, Professor) the movies.

The biological, and specifically evolutionary, element of this endlessly replicating, spawning, proliferating nonsense gets a well-deserved dissection on groovy skiffy website io9. The smack-down also swipes one example from written SF - one I used myself in that lecture, as it happens. (Via the great PZ, who knows what he's talking about.)

Hollywood, it's safe to say, won't reform its ways any time soon. So what can a good science communicator do? There are only so many times you can re-run Gattaca, after all. One innovative approach is taken by the MRC Centre for Neuropsychiatric Genetics and Genomics, along with sociology institute Cesagen, in Cardiff: at their initiative, Cardiff sciSCREEN, they hang serious discussions off popular and classic movies without trying to use the scientific content of the movies as educational tools - for example, using the recent blockbuster Inception 'to explore the psychology of lucid dreaming, business ethics and intellectual property, representations of urban environments, and the ownership of mental states'.

Next up: Der Golem, a Halloween special followed by a 'discussion featuring academics with interests in the Gothic, in the philosophy of vitalism, and in folklore, myth, and Jewishness and Judaism on film.'

Way to go!

Labels: coming attractions, genomics, skiffy

Posted 1:45 PM by Ken

Parallel Worlds

At 7 pm this Friday evening I'm on a panel at Newcastle's amazing Centre for Life with acclaimed author Scarlett Thomas, as part of Newcastle University's project Parallel Worlds: Literature and Science.

From the blurb:

Ideas from physics, computing and philosophy have increasingly fed into the work of novelists, not only in science fiction but also "mainstream" fiction. Concepts such as virtual reality, alternate history or the "multiverse" have influenced popular culture and contemporary literature in diverse ways. This series of events brings together leading writers and thinkers to reflect on their "parallel" disciplines and explore possible bridges between them.

The event is introduced by novelist, former physicist, and creative writing lecturer Dr Andrew Crumey.

Labels: coming attractions, self-promotion, writing

Posted 8:35 PM by Ken

Has Karen Armstrong ever read Feurbach?

In her best-selling and widely praised The Case for God Karen Armstrong contrasts the recent New Atheists with the good old atheists who at least understood theology:

In the past, theologians have found it useful to have an exchange of views with atheists. The ideas of the Swiss theologian Karl Barth (1886 - 1968) were enhanced by the writings of Feuerbach ... But it is difficult to see how theologians could dialogue fruitfully with Dawkins, Harris, and Hitchens, because their theology is so rudimentary.

Feuerbach's best-known and most influential work, The Essence of Christianity, is a somewhat forbidding book at first glance (and at second glance, when you find that the standard paperback has as its introduction a lecture on Feuerbach by the Swiss theologian Karl Barth (1886 - 1968)). That was probably why I put the copy I'd picked up and glanced through back on the returns trolley of Brunel University Library in 1976, thus missing out on 34 years of enlightenment. (I really kick myself because the University's Anglican chaplain materialised beside me as I was looking at it, and enthusiastically recommended it as a thorough demolition of orthodox Christian theology, particularly the doctrines of the Trinity and the Incarnation. You don't believe any of that? I asked, incredulously. Of course not, he said. What do you say to your colleagues who do believe it? Oh, he replied, they don't believe it either.)

Anyway, a month or so ago I eventually got around to reading Feuerbach, and you know, Frederick Engels and the vicar were right! 'The spell was broken; the ‘system’ was exploded and cast aside, and the contradiction, shown to exist only in our imagination, was dissolved. One must oneself have experienced the liberating effect of this book to get an idea of it.' If I'd read it back then I'd have been spared a lot of puzzlement about Anglicans, and also about Marxists. At the time I thought I was one myself, but what I didn't understand was all the other Marxists I knew. Why were they so confident? And why were they so fucking busy? Obviously I had missed the meeting where everyone had read Feuerbach:

The atheism that fears the light is an unworthy and hollow atheism. Such atheists have nothing to say, and that is why they are afraid to speak out. The cryptoatheist says only in private that there is no God; his atheism is summed up in this one negative statement, which stands all alone, so that his atheism changes nothing. And it is perfectly true that if atheism were a mere negation, a denial without content, it would be unfit for the people, that is, for man or for public life; but only because such atheism is worthless. True atheism, the atheism that does not shun the light, is also an affirmation; it negates the being abstracted from man, who is and bears the name of God, but only in order to replace him by man’s true being.

[...]

Let us then leave the dead in peace and concern ourselves with the living. If we no longer believe in a better life but decide to achieve one, not each man by himself but with our united powers, we will create a better life, we will at least do away with the most glaring, outrageous, heartbreaking injustices and evils from which man has hitherto suffered. But in order to make such a decision and carry it through, we must replace the love of God by the love of man as the only true religion, the belief in God by the belief in man and his powers – by the belief that the fate of mankind depends not on a being outside it and above it, but on mankind itself, that man’s only Devil is man, the barbarous, superstitious, self-seeking, evil man, but that man’s only God is also man himself.

But to return to Karen Armstrong: the real irony of her recommendation of Feuerbach is that Feuerbach's argument (meticulously reasoned and documented, as Barth admits through his teeth) that 'God' is nothing other than human consciousness unaware that it is describing itself is above all applicable to the mysterious, ineffable, indescribable, elusive, ungraspable 'God' for which Karen Armstrong makes her case.

We see nothing of the mind's working
except what comes on screen
and goes on keyboard. What's between
the two, behind the one -
the self that knows the self we know
and
all the self knows -
we don't know.

Labels: atheism, Marxism

Posted 11:24 AM by Ken

The man who stared at dolphins

Even when I was a rather credulous teenager who took seriously the writings of Carlos Castenada, Colin Wilson, Timothy Leary, Teilhard de Chardin and R. D. Laing, all it took was one flick through a snazzy paperback of John C. Lilly's The Centre of the Cyclone for me to conclude that the author was out of it. Just how far out is detailed here.

Needless to say, he had NASA and Naval funding. Was there any part of the counter-culture that didn't start as a black op?

Via, with a juicy taster quote and the fine understatement: This is by no means the strangest part of this article.

My own favourite paragraph, however, is this:

To appreciate the rings of significance that widened from this laboratory scene, it is critical to understand that in the 1950s no one thought of whales and dolphins as “musical” or “intelligent” or—of all things—“spiritually enlightened.” At that time, the large whales were generally regarded as huge kegs of fat (useful for making soap), meat (good to feed to chickens), and fertilizer (best thing to do with what was left after you took the fat and meat), and the smaller dolphins and porpoises were mostly just a nuisance to fishermen—though bottlenose were sometimes actually hunted, since the fine oil in their jaw ducts was considered a superior lubricant for precision timepieces.

How times have changed.

Labels: amazing things