Final Post: If Aliens Really Were Discovered

Of course, as the class wound down last night and we each added our own closing remarks, the discussion inevitably turned once again to what the best way to approach the discovery of aliens would be. All of the novels we read throughout the semester provided us with a number of examples and possibilities, but, as a few of us said in class, this does not truly provide us with any predictive information--aliens, if and when they are discovered, are likely to be something beyond any human imagining. As Professor Jackson said in class, we would like to think that they would appear in a recognizable form, but that is not very (if at all) likely to happen. There is really nothing we can know about an alien lifeform, other than the fact that if they come here first they are probably more technologically advance than us. Because the possible physical and social characteristics of an alien race are so beyond us, there is no knowing how first contact would play out. I think if I learned anything from this class (granted I did learn a lot more than this) it's that any encounter with aliens will turn out however chance decides. In the end that's the deciding factor; we could have really good intentions but, in the end, communication between us and an alien species could go either way.

All we can really do is attempt to go about any discovery with as much caution and goodwill as we possibly can. But, as someone pointed out in class, we should also be aware of the risks and keep in mind the outlook of Graff in Ender's Game. If aliens show up with guns blazing, obviously the best approach is not one of goodwill. This is where caution comes in; yes we want to make a strong attempt to communicate peacefully with the aliens, but we should be well aware of the chance that such an interaction will not be possible. I think that Andrew puts this together really well in his blog post, saying, "We must be humble as we tread into the universe, and recognize that which makes us human makes us capable of great conflict, but also makes up capable of great peace." It's not a very satisfying conclusion to come to, but this class has made me believe that maybe all we can do is hope for the best and do what we can.

The question that Professor Jackson posed at the end of class was: Which of the encounters we examined throughout the semester seemed like the best way to go? For me, it seemed that the film Contact showed an approach that was pretty level-headed and, in my mind, right. Mostly it was Ellie's approach that was the right one. She was so committed to finding alien life that she treated the discovery with the kind of earnestness and humility that it should be approached with (humility is just what Professor Jackson emphasized as the most important piece of an approach to other sentient life). And although the end of the film is a bit uncertain in how it turns out, the first contact between humans and aliens manages to be peaceful and without confrontation. I believe both Ellie and Professor Jackson have the right idea. As the professor told us, it's important to maintain a healthy dose of internal skepticism and critique in order to ensure that we are not forcing ourselves into one position and one approach.

Because We Can

The human Culture found in Look to Windward is a fascinating imagining of what humanity could become if we had the kind of technology that Banks presents in the novel. Humans are able to build planets (or something close to planets), they have created AI, they use virtual reality, and, perhaps most importantly, they are able to store their minds for re-use if they die. Phil questions this practice in his post this week, saying that the person who comes back is really an incomplete copy of the original because it can never be exactly the same as the old one. This critique is interesting, but not really something I considered too deeply in reading the book. What did bother me in the novel, however, is that it seems that humans have all of this technology and use it because it exists, because they can. There is no question, on their part, whether they should save their minds for re-use or whether they should let everything be run by the Hub.

Quilan comes up with a possible answer to this in his musings over the nature of humans. He proposes that maybe humans left the "running of their civilization to the machines" because "they didn't trust themselves with the colossal powers and energies their science and technology had provided them with" (150). I feel like this is probably more noble of a gesture than humans are capable of given our history with new technology. If it can be used as a weapon, great! In this light it seems both very wise and very unlikely that humans would decide one day that they should not be controlling their own technology. Although, maybe if we were to reach the point that the humans do in Look to Windward, our views would be different. However, even the AIs that control most human worlds were actually created by humans, again, as Quilan remarks on, they were built simply because civilizations had the technology to do so.

So, this once again brings up the question of, if we can, should we? Is it the best policy to trust our biggest decisions to machines? While the Hub in the book is presented as impressively wise and aware of the damage he is able to do, does that mean we can trust him more than we can trust humans? This might not be a fair question because humans certainly haven't been proven to be very level-headed and wise when it comes to running their civilizations effectively and fairly. It is impossible to come to a definite conclusion either way, because neither humans nor machines created by humans can be said to be completely unbiased and competent. One thing is for sure, though, allowing one mind, the Hub, to control all of the functions of an entire world and its pieces scattered throughout the universe is a questionable move to make. One incident, like the one that Quilan attempted, could bring a civilization crashing down. To me, it's the extreme equivalent of putting all your eggs in one basket.

M is for Miscommunication

Throughout Eifelheim I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. From the first moment that the Krenken started becoming interested in Jesus Christ and his proposed return to Earth, it was pretty clear that Dietrich and the Krenken were not on the same page. I was, frankly, surprised when nothing serious arose from this miscommunication. It is a pretty severe difference to see Jesus as the son of God and humanity's savior and to see him as a being from space who can help a group of aliens get back home. The worst part about this confusion was that their interpretation made sense. If you read Dietrich's explanations while imagining that you have no knowledge of Christianity or the One God, but have a good understanding of space travel, the Krenken's assumptions are completely reasonable. Taking religion literally rather than figuratively is a problem even within human society. And misinterpretations of religious ideas and messages are a common source of problems and conflicts.

One example of one such unfortunate misinterpretation can be found here. Basically, a sect of churches in South Korea had predicted that, on a specific day in 1992, the faithful would ascend to heaven. This would then be followed by seven years of trials and, finally, the Armageddon. Clearly, this is a pretty serious claim to make. It led many followers to sell their belongings, leave their jobs, and abandon their families. The church simply apologized, saying that they misinterpreted the Bible. That's one extreme misinterpretation..."Oh, sorry...we thought the world was going to end. Our bad."

It's examples like this that made me think that Eifelheim was going to end badly. I was honestly underwhelmed when the remaining Krenken just stayed peacefully among the villagers. Since most of them were expecting Herr Jesus to appear any day, it seemed that they would become frustrated when that didn't happen. And somehow, the majority of them managed to fly off without the Second Coming. What did that mean to the Krenken believers? In any case, the Krenken who were converted did demonstrate that their manners and attitudes were, to some extent, altered by their newfound religion. However, it still seems that they could never truly understand the Christian belief system because of its basis in human culture, and even human biology. As the book points out, God made humans in his image, and the Krenken clearly do not fit into this image. So, while the Krenken adopt some of the practices and attitudes of Christians, they do not truly understand what it is they are incorporated into. It's impossible because of their vastly different points of reference and cultures.

Send Someone Else?

Could the harm done by the Jesuit parties have been stopped if another group had been sent instead? This is the question we found ourselves asking after finishing Children of God. Although the sequel ended much better than The Sparrow, the fact remains that the entire Jana'ata species was almost wiped out by the Runa and their society has been drastically and irrevocably changed. So the question remains, could anyone else have done things differently? I voiced my opinion in class and it has not changed. I believe that any interaction with another species will cause changes in both societies because of the simple nature of discovering something completely new. We saw clearly in Todorov's book the effects of the Europeans' interactions with Native Americans. Even two human cultures cannot meet for the first time without effecting some long-term consequences--whether good or bad.

Furthermore, even if the Rakhat party had not been exceedingly religious, basic human morality goes beyond religion. I say this because I think that the turning point of the whole expedition is when Sophia attempts to save the Runa children from being killed and eaten by the Jana'ata. Her reaction is not thought-out, it is her instinct to try to protect the children of a group that they have lived with and come to love. Even if Sophia was replaced by a scientist who thinks rationally and impartially, I believe it would have been very difficult for this person to simply watch children they know get killed. The only I can see things going any differently is if the party had not lived with the Runa for such a period of time and had tried harder to separate themselves from the Rakhati cultures. Even then, some change would have been inevitable, but maybe it would not have been as extreme.

And extreme is certainly what it was. Sophia took something that could have been a simple rebellion for freedom and made it into a genocide. This is because she projected all of her own experiences of oppression onto the Runa and the Jana'ata. As someone pointed out in class, she made the Runa into Jews and the Jana'ata into Nazis. Although Aaron makes a good point in his post about whether intervention is right or not, this is not exceedingly relevant in Sophia's case. She turns moral intervention into a war that is meant to make up for all the wrongs made against herself and her people. It goes past when it is acceptable to intervene into the territory of how far can one wronged woman go?

The Discovery of Aliens and Religion

I finished Children of God feeling much happier than I did after The Sparrow (although the book seemed to wrap things up a little too happily-ever-after for my taste) and the book also left me with even more questions about what an encounter with another sentient species would mean for humanity. I would like to move on to a topic other than comparative moralities--I'm feeling that this one has been a bit overworked lately. With a title like Children of God, my thoughts did frequently turn to the (supposed) big guy in the sky. In considering the meeting of the religious and the (literally) otherworldly, there are so many questions. Let's start with the basics: what would the discovery of aliens mean for the religions throughout the world? On this topic, it may interest you to know that the Vatican actually has its own observatory and has considered the implications of the discovery of aliens for Christianity. One of the staff members, Guy Consolmagno (who is, incidentally, a Jesuit) wrote a book entitled, Intelligent Life In The Universe? Catholic Belief And The Search For Extra-Terrestrial Life. A blog focusing on the interesting author of this book explains that it is his job to examine such questions as: "...if aliens were discovered, then why would the Bible--supposedly the word of God--contain no information about his non-Earthly creations? If they turn out to be green blobs or sentient gaseous spirals, what's all that talk in the Bible of humankind being created in God's image? What if the aliens wanted to convert us to their God? And do ETs go to heaven?" This blog also brings up other questions that I had not thought of, but Catholics had, such as: is it possible that the alien species had their own version of Adam and Eve and Jesus Christ?

I can see how religious scholars such as Consolmagno might be consumed by such questions; they truly are fascinating. Returning now to fiction, in Children of God we see that the Jana'ata and the Runa do not have their own monotheistic religion. But that does not take anything away from the question of what their existence means for our own religious and spiritual beliefs. The search for meaning engulfs the Jesuits in the book (even the ex-Jesuits like Emilio) and is the true reason for their trip--they need to understand. Emilio needs to know if there is a reason for his suffering, a reason that is implied to be of a higher power. It would take someone with extremely strong spirituality to take the discovery of aliens as a sign from God. I say this because, as the questions presented above show, the discovery of another sentient species would probably raise more doubts than convictions about God's providence. I mean, think about it...the existence of aliens would mean that we're not special, we're not God's only children. As it mentions above, what does that mean for the belief that we were created in God's image? And what if the aliens have their own unshakable beliefs? How do we know that our God is the real God? I find it hard to believe that finding an alien species would immediately lead people to see them as God's other children. It is inherent in human nature to want to feel special, like the human race is one in a million, and who knows how religion would hold up to a discovery that challenges this view.

Seeing Through the Other's Eyes

To be honest, while I enjoyed the inclusion of a Star Trek episode and I find the debate over what constitutes understanding to be fairly interesting, today's class felt, to me, a little like beating a dead horse. For the first part of class we simply went back and forth trying to determine what communication really means and what real understanding is. It was repeatedly said that one can never achieve true understanding with any other individual. I think that this is a little silly. Of course we can never completely know what's going on inside someone's head (unless we're talking about a Vulcan mind meld). To me, it's kind of a moot point since complete and utter understanding, by definition of the word "complete," would require the ability to both read minds and have the exact same frame of reference of the other individual. Complete understanding is not even possible in a society where everyone speaks the same language. A PBS guide to cross-cultural communication gives an excellent example: "even in countries that share the English language, the meaning of 'yes' varies from 'maybe, I'll consider it' to 'definitely so,' with many shades in between." We touched on such issues of underlying meaning in class and, certainly, the inferences we make about communicated messages everyday may be wrong in some situations.

During the second part of class, we moved past this definition of true understanding to try to place the interactions between different humans and "others" from the books we've read this semester onto a scale of greater or lesser understanding. I appreciated this more concrete look at understanding because it gave us an idea of what promotes more in-depth understanding between cultures or species. Some of the indicators we came up with were: 1) one or both sides are able to "get out of their own head" and see the other's perspective; 2) the communication causes a change in the other's behavior; 3) one or both sides view the other as an equal. Someone also mentioned that, in many of the examples we looked at, a low level of understanding often meant the presence of violence.

For me personally, I feel that the first indicator is the most accurate because of the examples that I see as being more indicative of understanding, such as Ender and the piggies in Speaker for the Dead and Marjorie and the foxen in Grass. These examples exhibit more understanding between the main characters and the alien species because of the unique ability of both characters to see things from a different perspective; maybe they can never completely relate to the practices of the aliens, but they have an understanding of why things are done that way. In this instance, I have a quote that fits quite nicely. Gavin Sanderson writes in his article "Existentialism, Globalisation and the Cultural Other" that, "if it is popularly held that there is nothing that can be learned from the Cultural Other, what possibilities are there for transformative encounters to open our identities to change? To also see the world through their eyes and in doing so, become something more than we presently are (Marginson 1999-2000, p.5), whether at the level of an individual, an institution, a nation, or a civilisation." The only way to have encounters that change one's self (presumably arising from a new understanding of the universe or some small piece of it) is to open one's mind to another perspective.

Conflicting Moralities Continued

It was pretty clear from the beginning of Todorov's The Conquest of America that the book was going to have a lot of connections to what we took away from The Sparrow. On the very first page, Todorov writes that his subject is "the discovery self makes of the other." While he is talking about separate human cultures that come into contact with one another, it doesn't take much of a leap to reframe his arguments in terms of alien species. And, as I wrote about in my last blog post, at the time of the "discovery" of the American continent, the Indians and the Europeans were about as alien to each other as you could get. In this light, their encounters offer an interesting comparison for The Sparrow and the other first encounter books we've read so far.

A topic that I found to be really interesting in Todorov's book is his discussion of the difficulties that the Europeans have in seeing the Indians as both different and human; in many cases different means inhuman or bad. This has serious implications when it comes to our discussion of imposing morality upon the Jana'ata. The relevance of Todorov is abundantly clear. He writes, "...admitting that one is to impose 'the good' on others, who...decides what is barbarity or savagery and what is civilization?" (150). He continues with this line of thought, writing that the theory behind the actions of the Europeans was that "one has the right or even the duty to impose the good on others...without concern as to whether or not this is also the good from the other's point of view" (154). This is exactly what I argued against in my last blog post. It is impossible to say that our moral view is superior over the "other's" because, as mginsberg wrote in his last post, each side comes from different reality with different norms. His post presents an interesting debate about cultural relativism and how that plays into human/other interactions (even if the other is another human culture).

Mginsberg makes the important point that since we cannot choose which system of morality (or lack thereof) is "correct," the way forward is difficult to determine. So, although I believe that we can't impose our own ways on the other, I, like mginsberg, do not have an answer for how to approach such a situation. Cultural clashes continue to confound scholars and world travelers alike. And simply taking a Cross-cultural Communications class does not make such questions any easier to answer.

Imposing Morality

Our entire class discussion basically revolved around the question of whether humans can, or should, impose their system of morality on another species. For that matter, can one society of humans impose its morals on another society of humans. We've seen it all through history...anyone heard of colonialism? (It seems like every book we read brings me back to colonialism. Maybe it's because I'm an SIS major. Or maybe it's because the West's first interactions with indigenous cultures are seen as the closest thing to an alien encounter for many people.) The colonial rulers sometimes allowed a semblance of the indigenous people's traditional ways to remain, as in the British practice of indirect rule where a traditional system of rule was left in place, but the colonists still dictated who was in power and the laws they implemented. Basically, a small piece of the traditional culture was preserved, but colonial ideas and rules still held the power. Despite this sticky history, the debate over whether it is appropriate to intervene on a moral basis is not cut-and-dry.

While many people agree that a society's culture is their own and generally shouldn't be intervened with, when practices exist that threaten a group's health and safety, the line becomes blurred. This is the case today with traditional practices such as female genital mutilation (FGM). We had a discussion about this very dilemma in my International Development class. Our determination was that the cultures practicing this should be informed as to the damage and possible complications that can result, but we cannot force them to change their ways. When it comes down to it, we decided that it is not right, or even possible in many cases, to force a society to change its way of life even if it includes very harmful practices. However, even when harmful practices aren't involved, the West often tries to intervene with what the non-Western countries are doing. Although this is more often in the form of economic or political actions rather than military ones. For a look at how economic sanctions can be a form of "moral colonialism" check out Tomas Larsson's article here.

Of course, involving a society that consists of another species entirely complicates the question further. As someone pointed out in class, the humans and the aliens in The Sparrow don't even have the same frame of reference; their worlds are completely different and developed in complete isolation and ignorance of each other. This means that they are unlikely to be able to understand where we are coming from in saying that it is wrong to eat Runa children, just as we wouldn't understand if they told us it was wrong for us to catch fish (or something like that). For this reason, I believe it is fairly inappropriate to try to dictate what they should or shouldn't be doing. It may seem cold-hearted to observe their society without doing anything to appease our morals, but we've all seen how well colonialism turned out. It's like Tim said in class, humans want to "love God's other children," but only once we've made them into something we can love.

Human and Alien Rights: Permanently at Odds?

Mary Doria Russell's The Sparrow is such an involving and emotional book that I was worried that I would be too taken in by the story and the characters that I would not be able to see past the plot to examine the deeper themes. However, I found that my mind was still able to pull out pertinent topics and themes because of the thoughtful way in which Russell writes. There's no shortage of religious and social themes to draw from. One topic that is extremely interesting and also impossible to come to a definitive conclusion on is that of morality and comparing the Jana'ata's ideas of right and wrong with our own. This is addressed prominently in Aaron Zisook's blog post for this week. Aaron asks a key question: is it "our place to decide their [the Jana'ata's] morals, or do different species have some right to decide their own morality?" In reading the book this certainly came into my thoughts, particularly in light of what is done to Emilio. Although the Jana'ata, particularly Supaari, recognized Emilio as a sentient being, they felt no reservation in treating him like an object and treating him in a way that is, to us, repulsive and horrifying. The reason that the moral system of the Jana'ata is so difficult to understand is that we, as humans, can hardly comprehend treating a sentient being as an animal. But this is certainly not true across society; human beings are constantly being dehumanized and rape is not a foreign concept. Still, the idea of keeping an individual as a sex toy shocks and repulses us because it seems to be completely acceptable in Jana'ata society, unlike how it would be treated in human society.

So, Aaron's question comes up again...since the action was accepted in Jana'ata culture, but completely rejected in human society, do we have a right to dictate to the Jana'ata what we deem as right and wrong? In the case of the forced prostitution of humans, I have to say that humans should have some right to dictate what the aliens do. This is because it harms humans directly. Now, this question gets a bit more fuzzy when looking at the Jana'ata practice of eating the Runa young that were not authorized to be born. In this case, the practice does not have a direct effect on humans. While we may find the act to be morally offensive, does that give us the right to interfere? What if there were an alien species that found the fact that we keep domesticated animals as pets to be morally wrong? (This is clearly a less extreme example, but it is possible that some species might feel that keeping animals "in captive" is as bad as killing the young of another species.) Would it be acceptable for this species to come to Earth and steal everyone's pets in order to set them free? Humanity would be shocked and indignant and, very possibly, enraged. So, you can see where the lines become blurred. It's like that line from the Star Trek film, The Undiscovered Country, "Human rights. The very term is racist."

I'm sure, however, that many people in class will have different opinions on this subject and no matter which way you look at it, Russell provides a huge amount of material to consider and sift through. As one reviewer puts it, "she [Russell] uses the relationship among the aliens, and between the aliens and humans, to explore what it means to be civilized and the nature of morality." Like Aaron, I find this to be a fascinating topic that is continuously occupying my thoughts, even now that I am finished with the book. The real difficulty is looking past our initial repulsion at what the Jana'ata do to the Runa and to Emilio and trying to consider their side of the morality argument. Robert Wiblin's blog addresses this argument briefly by pointing out that "If the human and alien species met to discuss their moral preferences, it is not clear to what either side could appeal to work out which one of them was right." This just illustrates the enormous problem of the idea of "universal human (if we can even use that word) rights."

Science Cannot Be Neutral

Our discussion in class yesterday covered a lot of ground. One topic that I found to be very interesting is the question of if morality has a place in science and if it can be separated from the desires and fears and human society. We can see in His Master's Voice that both the HMV project and the Manhattan project suffered from the difficulties of scientists being unable to remain completely neutral in matters that concern the whole of humanity. And how could they? They are, after all, part of humanity. Scientists are just humans who happen to work in a field that impacts the rest of human society in many cases. Expecting them to hold themselves to a higher level of morality than the rest of the population is simply unrealistic. As emily_f writes in her blog, "...science is very much a part of the social situation in which it is conducted and in order for science to be neutral or for humans to be free, we must throw off these constraints. Of course, how to throw off these constraints isn’t really addressed, nor is it even established that this is possible.... Science will always be colored by society." This means that scientists can neither be considered to be either completely moral or completely immoral...they are simply human.

Despite this fact, scientists are often expected to be "incorruptible" and "ideal," as Lem puts it. He writes that, "A politician may be a villain without ceasing to be a great politician, whereas a villainous genius--that is a contradiction in terms. Villainy cancels genius" (4). In the eyes of society, scientists are inherently good by the nature of their work; they couldn't possibly be as intelligent as they are and have some evil motive. However, history tells us this is not true. In emily_f's blog, she mentions the scientists who worked for the Nazis. Clearly, these individuals were not working with a sense of morality in mind; quite the opposite in fact.

So, in terms of the HMV project, the scientists cannot remove themselves from the human implications of the discovery and their work on it. The implications of the possibility of another intelligent species in the universe is not something that can be ignored, even if someone tries as hard as they can to be neutral. Even though it is questionable whether or not there is an alien species responsible for the transmission, even the tiniest possibility creates immense controversy that cannot be ignored by any member of humanity.

Competition and Destruction in American Culture

I have yet to finish His Master's Voice but so far...it's basically a mindfuck. Pardon the harsh language, but I'm trying desperately to make sense of the book. I'm sure that it will be further revealed to me once I reach the end, but getting there is a bit rough. The ending had better be worth it. One thing that has stood out to me while reading Stanislaw Lem's book however, is the way in which humanity handles the discovery of the recording. The actions taken by the scientists say a lot about the nature of man and the culture that has developed in America. Although the novel was written in the context of the Cold War, some of the government's actions seem like they would still take place today. In the book, the reaction of the U.S. government is to keep the discovery of the recording a secret until they can uncover its secrets for themselves. This is because of the feelings of mistrust between the U.S. and its rivals (namely, the Soviet Union) and the arms race that exists. Although this context is no longer very relevant, the idea that the U.S. would try to hide such a discovery remains plausible. The U.S. still has enemies and still maintains a high level of competitiveness, although it more often presents itself economically. For these reasons, I believe that there is still a high probability that if the U.S. were to discover a something like in His Master's Voice it would remain a secret in order to gain an advantage or even just to handle things in what the powers-that-be see as the right way.

Since I haven't read to the end of the book yet, I don't know how things are going to pan out, but the last thing I read was that the scientists discovered the possibility of a nuclear bomb that could be detonated in one place and destroy everything in a completely different location. Now, I can see the direction that this might go in. The reason that Donald Prothero hesitates to present his findings to those in power is that he knows what will be done with the information. He fears the destruction that will follow. If the possibility of a weapon exists, rest assured the government will find a way to develop it. In this light, I am wary of how the book will end. Just as I am wary of how the U.S. would react to a discovery like the recording from space. I would like to imagine that science and discovery would take precedence but this can't be assured when there are other, often stronger, political interests at hand.

Human-ness and Grass

Today's class went around in circles discussing what defines "human-ness" and how this applies to the various species we've encountered in the novels so far this semester as well as to the bons in Grass. This started with the statement that the bons seem to be inhuman because they do not seem to care about what happens to the rest of humanity or, towards the end of the book, to themselves. In my opinion, I think they only lose their humanity when they become completely and utterly controlled by the Hippae; before this they still had the characteristics which, in my mind, are representative of human beings. I guess that this is because, in my mind, human-ness presents itself as an entity that has the ability to control its decisions while also having some other motivations behind their actions other than basic needs. Of course this definition is my own thinking and some of you may disagree with me but I'm going to go along with this theory to assess what we talked about in class.

So taking this idea into the discussion of the other species in Grass (multiple species or one?), I see the Hippae and the foxen as on the same level as humans (I don't want to say that they're human because, as Ryan pointed out in class, that word is too closely associated with homo sapiens...so I suppose the best term to use is ramen). Both species (or are they the same? oh, forget it) are ramen because they have a higher level of thought than animals (varelse). The proof of this is in the fact that the Hippae show "malice" and the foxen feel guilt and have philosophical debates. These two species show the extreme opposites of the motivations that could possibly be behind human-like actions. Just as there is good and evil in human society, the Hippae and the foxen represent the worst and best of (for lack of a better phrase) human nature. There are people out there who enjoy hurting others for the sack of hurting them, just as there are people who feel guilt over things that they can't really be held responsible for.

Heavy Stuff (Human Nature and Religion)

Our book for this week, Grass, is another interesting examination of the implications of humans encountering another sentient being. Sheri S. Tepper's novel presents a story that demonstrates weaknesses in human nature as well as its strengths and the possibilities these characteristics allow. I found the main character, Marjorie, to be particularly interesting when it comes to examining human-alien relations and what the nature of these relations imply about the characteristics of human actions and motives. Marjorie, from the beginning, is able to perceive the true nature of the Hippae and is cautious and wary as a result of this. For others, namely the bons, the Hippae are not seen for what they truly are because of the overwhelming power that the Hippae have to control them. This warns against the human tendency to go along with the majority and, it could be argued, to allow one's self to become brainwashed for the sake of tradition and honor or pride. Now, one can't really blame the bons for losing control in such a way, obviously the Hippae had certain powers that gave them control, but the fact that some individuals, such as Sylvan, were able to avoid being completely brainwashed shows that there was some hope if one could only use some mental strength, such as Marjorie demonstrates throughout the book.

Another theme within Grass that is highly prevalent is religion. We see clearly the clash between Sanctity and the Old Catholic religions as well as any other non-Sanctity belief or non-belief systems. The spread of Sanctity to most of humanity is troubling in that their "doctrine" is repeated obsessively, even by those who clearly don't believe a word of it. They basically force adolescent boys into becoming "Sanctified" and serving Sanctity in its seemingly meaningless work. The main purpose of the group is to preserve the genetic material of Sanctified who die so that they may be cloned in the future. I found the whole system to be very creepy and cult-like. How this system relates to our own world, I can't say. I'd like to think that humanity could not be sucked into this all-encompassing system that takes away individuality and personal freedoms, but I found another blog that questions this: "...you couldn’t really have a fundamentalist church taking over the world, now could you? Rereading Grass a couple of years ago, I was struck by how much closer it suddenly seemed. A President in the White House who had been elected by fundamentalists, who believed in the end times, and who had banned funding for charities in Africa promoting contraception….suddenly the world she portrayed no longer seemed so very far away." Obviously, this threat is not completely plausible, because the beliefs of said leader certainly did not represent the bulk of the U.S. population, let alone that of humanity. Still, it's a frightening prospect.

America's Ethical Hegemon

So I'm going to be an overachiever and write my class response super early because I'm off to spring break bright and early tomorrow morning and I don't want to worry about it. The main theme of our talk today was American superiority and exceptionalism and how this plays into our "manifest destiny." As an international development major, this discussion was very relevant to me. I particularly enjoyed where the conversation went at the end of class with our talk of human rights and the American idea of what's right and wrong. The dinner scene from The Undiscovered Country raised an interesting discussion point: are human rights really universal when we considered different cultures or, to take things to a science fiction viewpoint, different species. Are human rights, as the Klingon put it, racist? There is certainly no shortage of examples of the West imposing its ideals on developing countries "for their own good" and in the guise of human rights. I mean, come on, just look at the IMF's Structural Adjustment Programs ("Yeah we'll help you out, if you promise to do this, this, and this").

As Annika put it in class, it doesn't matter if what the U.S. does is right or wrong because by definition, whatever it does is right simply because it is the U.S. that does it. At least that's the sentiment some people have. This goes along with Professor Jackson's statement that the idea of manifest destiny is a framework that can be used in a variety of contexts to justify just about anything. The U.S. takes the idea of exceptionalism one step further by transforming it into a destiny that gives the country the right to take its unique ideals and ethics and push them on the rest of the world.

How would this approach play out if humanity (assuming this united group of humanity is led by the U.S.) came into contact with an alien species? I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't see it ending well. Historically speaking, the U.S. and most of the Western world have never really seen much that is worth learning from other races and peoples. Basically, it's our way or the highway. If we were to take this approach with a new species, things would not go well. Even if the aliens acted subserviently and embraced the American way, over time, tensions would grow and relations would become strained. The imperialist mindset can only hold out for so long before things start to crumble.

The Manifest Destiny/Martian Chronicles Parallel

When reading Manifest Destiny by Anders Stephanson, it is impossible to not make connections with Bradbury's Martian Chronicles. The American expansion to the West and then onward to Latin America and various Pacific islands allows an almost natural progression to the expansion into space. All too often in history, we see the use of excuses such as, "it's the natural way of things," or "it's our nation's duty." These are issues that are addressed in detail in Stephanson's historical review of the role that "destiny" has played in America's history. Expanding his ideas to match up with frequent themes in science fiction is not all that challenging when one sees how frequently parallels are made between alien species and indigenous peoples, such as the Native Americans. This comparison was painfully clear in reading Speaker for the Dead; the piggies were a "primitive," nature-driven society that had a completely opposing culture to the "civilized" humans. And while the humans did not act as violently towards the piggies as they did in real life towards the Native Americans, they had the same feelings of fear and uncertainty, as evidenced by the eventual turn to a military stance ("When it comes to war, human is human and alien is alien. All that ramen business goes up in smoke when we're talking about survival." p313). There are constant parallels in science fiction of the historical boundary between civilized and uncivilized peoples (if they are even considered people to begin with).

The Martian Chronicles also parallels quite nicely with Manifest Destiny in that both excursions, the American push westward and outward as well as the fictional American push Mars-ward, began with the desire to discover and pioneer new lands, but ended with the desire to profit and expand capitalism. There are multiple passages in Bradbury's novel that talk about the first people to come to Mars after the successful expedition. These people were described as hardened individuals who were looking for a challenge and, in most cases, a solitary place to live. This matches up with the historical view of the Western pioneers who "tamed" the wilderness and led lives of adventure (if all the classic Western films are to be believed). However, in Chronicles as well as in reality, these pioneers were soon joined by profiteers and supporters of the expansion of what they saw as "real civilization." Bradbury illustrates this exceptionally well in his description of the new invasion: "They came on parties and vacations, on little shopping trips for trinkets and photographs and the 'atmosphere'...they came with stars and badges and rules and regulations, bringing some of the red tape that had crawled across Earth like an alien weed, and letting it grow on Mars wherever it could take root" (103). In America's history the same process occurred, illustrated (literally) by the painting on the cover of Stephanson's book; it shows the movement of society (symbolically shown by the light in the east) and with it comes trains and books and telegraph poles, all signs of "real" progress (the painting is described in more depth on page 66). In all, Manifest Destiny presents the background for the Mars expansion presented in The Martian Chronicles.

The Hero Figure on the Outside of Society

So, since we didn't have a class last week due to the professor's presence at a conference where he presented a paper on Battlestar Galactica (which makes me incredibly happy, by the way), I have to do another reflective post for the one I missed last week. I was trying to come up with something related to BSG but I haven't watched the show for about a year and I'm drawing a blank. I'm sure that there are a ton of theories on how it relates to social science, but for the moment it's over my head. So, instead I will look at a theory that Professor Jackson brought up in yesterday's class that I found to be very interesting.

In our discussion of Speaker for the Dead and The Martian Chronicles, we got into a discussion of whether humans can ever truly understand the other, something I touched upon in my last post. However, one thing I didn't bring up is Jackson's suggestion that only outsiders in human society can relate to and understand the true outsiders, aliens. This got me thinking about occurrences of this trend in other pieces of science fiction. Obviously, this is a big part of Ender's Game and Speaker as Ender is the ultimate outsider. He is purposely separated from his peers from the beginning in order to cultivate his unique talents and abilities.

To less extreme extents, most heroes in science fiction films and tv shows are outsiders in some fashion. For the most part, the typical hero figure is relatively anti-social, somewhat of a loner, and usually exists on the fringes of society. Off the top of my head I can think of Han Solo, Mal Reynolds from Firefly, and Korben Dallas from The Fifth Element. While these characters are not outsiders in the same vein as Ender, they are outside the normal realm of society in various ways. Both Han and Mal are smugglers, criminals who don't have a place in the developed planets. Mal has a sense of honor from his time in the military, something which also separates him from the criminal world of which he is a member. Unfortunately there is no example of Mal's interactions with the "other." Han, however, originally has one friend only and it's Chewbacca, a completely different species. I mean, come on, they have a total bromance. Like Mal, Han is a criminal and (at least in A New Hope) is extremely anti-social and thinks only of himself. (My friend who's a psychology major even went so far as to write a paper on how Han is a typical example of someone with an anti-social personality disorder.)

The final character I can think of off the top of my head is Bruce Willis's character in The Fifth Element. Korben is an ex-military officer who is now working as a taxi driver. He lives alone, except for his cat, and doesn't like complications (we all know where this story is going). Korben frequently shows his dislike for the political system, something that is assumed to be from his time in the military; he basically wants to left alone, but, of course, he is the only one who can save the world. And he is also the only one who can really relate to and understand Leeloo, who is not human. It's hard to know exactly what she is, but she certainly represents an "other."

The Political-ness of the Other

In this week's class (the first in three weeks) we launched into a very ambitious discussion comparing the alien species in Speaker for the Dead and The Martian Chronicles. To make the conversation even more complicated, we attempted to think of the aliens in terms of Schmittian logic. The question we tried to answer at the beginning of class was whether or not the various aliens were political beings or not. Clearly, we felt that each of the species in Speaker, humans, piggies, and buggers, were political in that they made up distinct groups that interact in a political manner with each other. The simple fact of their interactions, with a special emphasis on the creation of the treaty between humans and piggies, shows that they have political interests and are therefore political entities. These political boundaries are so strong that even though Human announces that the humans and piggies and buggers will now be one tribe, this is not really possible because their cultures and beliefs are far too different.

In our discussion we then turned to the Martians in Bradbury's novel. We saw them in a completely different light from Card's aliens. Unlike in Speaker, there are no real political interactions between the humans and the aliens in The Martian Chronicles. The only interactions are between individuals and small groups. Also, in my opinion, Bradbury seems to make the Martians completely non-political on purpose; they appear to be simply a way of seeing human nature. Because of this, I believe that the Martians' lack of political-ness is an important piece of Bradbury's story. It provides something off of which to base the image of the humans, who are the real focus of the story. Because, as Professor Jackson pointed out in class, when humans are confronted with the other, they are actually confronted with themselves and the need to preserve their humanness.

Another interesting question that was raised in class was whether there can ever be true understanding between two different species of intelligent being. We see what seems to be true understanding between Ender and the piggies and buggers, but some in the class question this. They seem to think that his "understanding" is not complete and is based more on self-preservation and species that are so different can never truly comprehend the other's way of life and beliefs. I don't really adhere to the thinking that Ender doesn't really understand the other species in the book; I think the whole story revolves around Ender's ability to understand the "other" in a way that no one else can. His skill in bridging political and cultural gaps between species is vital to Speaker.

Man's Destructive Nature

One main theme that I found throughout The Martian Chronicles was the destructive nature of humanity. Although the expeditions to Mars begin out of a desire for exploration and discovery, once the planet is deemed safe and free of those pesky alien lifeforms, the settlers move in. Even the way in which the Martians are wiped out by chicken pox is actually caused by man, albeit by accident. It's almost as if Bradbury is trying to show that our destructive nature is something we can't escape from. Even Spender, the one human who tries to preserve Mars and keep the humans out, does so by killing other humans. It's like the characters in the book can't help but turn to destructive actions. Fear is often the driving factor in these decisions. One key example is Sam Parkhill and his rash reaction to the appearance of Martians. He kills two of them despite the fact that they are speaking calmly to him and clearly mean him no harm. He then adds insult to injury by shooting at and destroying a number of their ancient cities when he's running away from them (p138).

Eventually we see this destruction annihilate Earth through a great war. So, the need for destruction does not contain itself to actions against the "other." The father in the last chapter of the book sums up the tragedy very well: "Life on Earth never settled down to doing anything very good. Science ran too far ahead of us too quickly, and the people got lost in a mechanical wilderness...emphasizing the wrong items, emphasizing machines instead of how to run the machines. Wars got bigger and bigger and finally killed Earth" (p180). This passage reminds me of a theory of peace and conflict resolution by Konrad Lorenz. He wrote that although humans are instinctively aggressive, this aggression has been given more leeway by the invention of artificial weapons because they hinder the social inhibitions of killing another human. In other words, guns and bombs and other weapons separate humans from the actual act of killing. This is what I think Bradbury means when he says humans "emphasize machines instead of how to run the machines." When a whole nation can be annihilated by the push of a button, it becomes easier; you don't have to see the people die and the heinous result becomes separate from your actions.

This view of humans as rash, violent individuals is contrasted with the view of the Martians. They are peaceful (aside from their attacks on the humans during the first and third expeditions) and appreciate things like art, science, and religion. On page 67 Spender is talking about his admiration for the Martians and it's hard not to feel the same respect for them as he does. He talks about how they appreciate life for life's sake and they don't question it. The author's intention to make the Martians the fairer species is clear. And why shouldn't we admire the Martians? They didn't destroy each other with a world war. They just wanted to live on their planet peacefully.

Racism in Star Wars?

So since we have nothing specific to write about for our substantive post this week, I thought I would comment on something that my friends and I were talking about recently. As I mentioned in my last post, last week during the snowpocalypse I watched Episode I of Star Wars. During the movie, my friend pointed out something that I'd never considered in great deal. She noticed that a lot of the characters and races seem to be fairly racist stereotypes of certain ethnicities. One obvious example is the Trade Federation.

All over the web, there are debates on this topic and it is surely a controversial one. But it got me thinking about our class and our discussion of the "other." In general, we discuss how the "other" is situated within the story and how humans' interact with the alien characters. In this way, we look at what these character interactions say about human nature. What I realized while watching Star Wars is that the relationship between the creator of the aliens (the writer, director, etc.) and his or her creation can also tell us a lot about human nature. Whether or not you think that The Phantom Menace shows clear signs of racism, you can infer a lot about humanity's feelings towards an unknown "other" by George Lucas's presentation of various alien species.

This debate is a complicated one. One could argue that by seeing certain races within the stereotypical characteristics and actions, we are ourselves being racist. In other words, we are projecting our own stereotypical ideas onto Lucas's characters. I don't know that I would go along with this because of the fact that the mannerisms and characteristics of the various races in Star Wars had to come from somewhere. And honestly, it's pretty much impossible for me to look at the race making up the Trade Federation and not see a crude representation of Asian stereotypes. It seemed pretty offensive to me, but if you disagree let me know why. Like I said, there are tons of debates on this topic and I'm sure many of them are very heated.

If you want to see some of the arguments online, check here, here, and here.

Then My Tauntaun Just Up and Died

So no class this week, cause it was like Hoth out there. Seriously. But anyway, with no class I guess I have to find something else to reflect on. I was forced to watch Star Wars Episode I yesterday so I could reflect on how awful it is. I mean, midichlorians? Really? But I digress. It's still possible to talk a bit more on Speaker for the Dead, (it is a pretty complex book) so I guess I'll do that.

One thing that came up in Speaker that I found interesting was the classic idea of good intentions versus good actions and which matters more. Do motives determine a person's character or do their actions? Card brings this up on page 35 with a discussion among Ender and his students in Reykjavik. In this passage it becomes clear that Ender feels that motives and intentions do play a great role in determining if what they do is good or evil. This makes sense given the evil act that Ender committed because we the readers know that he did it with the best intentions and it doesn't make him evil. This is in sharp contrast with the ideas of the Calvinists who believe that the act itself makes a person either good or evil. One of the Calvinists in the class says, "If the act is evil, then the actor is evil" (p36).

This idea comes further into play with the situation that arises with the piggies. Ender's students discuss if the piggies are evil because they, in human eyes, committed murder. However, Ender brings up the point that this act that appears evil to us, may have a completely different meaning to the piggies, an idea that does turn out to be correct. In this case, the argument for motives over actions holds true again. The piggies thought that by killing Pipo and Libo they were honoring them and bringing them to a better life. In this way of thinking, their actions were good, despite the shocking brutality of what they did. This debate about how important a role intentions play in determining one's inner nature is one that has existed for a long time and I don't think it will be finished any time soon. I hope we can discuss it more in class next time.