Affirmative Action in Space

We didn't have time to discuss it in class, but I wanted to raise an important issue that nobody else seemed to consider in staffing their expeditions. Is it important for us to stock our ship with a racially and sexually diverse staff?

It makes sense to me that the team we send isn't only important in its capacity to keep themselves alive and interface with the aliens; they are equally important in the impression they give of us as a species. Are you comfortable, then, with the idea of the aliens imagining us as a bunch of white guys?

Your first instinct is to say "well, whoever is the most skilled at each necessary position." A fair argument, but what if you have two people who would be equally suited to the task, only one is white, and the other black? Do you follow the path of fairness - deciding randomly - or make the choice that better represents our diversity (and out identity) as a species?

Same goes for male-female; in the book, Voelker (eternal scum as he is portrayed) claims that the greatest mistake was in sending women along on the mission. Would you be too worried about the possible relationships that could develop and harm the mission, or the possibility of pregnancy? Or would you rather represent our species properly, as sexually dimorphic but otherwise, ceteris parabus, equals?

I'm Extremely Uncomfortable

The title of this post pretty much sums up my feelings on He, She and It. As cool as the cyborg business was (I'm sure you're all excited about reopening the debate we had about Mike), suffice it to say that I was not prepared for this exploration of female psychology and sexuality. Most of the chapters left me emotionally drained, while others simply filled me with disgust or dismay. Don't get me wrong; I think this is a very fascinating, well-written novel. As I read it, however, I realized that the only chapters I was enjoying were the ones Malkah told to Yod about the Maharal and Joseph.

After thinking about why that might be, I came to an unusual conclusion. The biggest difference between the Maharal's story and the main plot is the former's focus on male protagonists. These anecdotes are the only sequences in the book in which the story is told from a male perspective (even if it's being told by a sympathetic Malkah). Somehow I found myself able to relate much better to these characters than to any of the women in the book.

Then again, perhaps that has something to do with the strong dislike I felt for Shira, who seemed to have nothing but her own narrow interest in mind throughout the book. Malkah was a bit better, but Shira was the driving narrative voice, so her actions and attitudes spilled over into Malkah's chapters, even if Malkah disapproved of them.

I've also noticed that this book seems to treat marriage as though it's toxic, suffocating to a woman's intellect at best. Marriage was only mentioned in terms of failure; I defy you to demonstrate an instance of happy marriage in this book that does not end in the traumatizing death of one of the spouses (usually the husband, in what I fear may be a form of wish fulfillment for the author).

The more I think about the author's view towards men, the suspicious I get. Take Nili's hidden society, for instance. They have reached that long-sought dream of some women, an Amazonian society where men are totally unnecessary in the reproductive process (not as far off as you might think!). That society is described in the glowingest of terms, and it seems freedom from men has given them the time and energy to create technological marvels, even without the collected technical know-how of the rest of humanity (via the Net).

As one more example of the author's complete hatred of men, observe the main antagonist, Y-S, and how many times it is stated that Y-S is male dominated.

So Piercy is laying it on pretty thick. Men can be summarized, in her worldview, as violent and unnecessary. Women can be forgiven for following their instincts, even those that lead to destruction, since female instincts are ultimately nurturing. Even the creative impulses of men, however, are rooted in their desires to destroy, and that is all that will come of their work. How depressing! Piercy has taught me to either despise my gender or distrust her book.

Let's talk about Yod, then. In my comment on Kaitlin's post, I raised the question of whether Yod would consider himself superior to us. From our perspective, it seems like a simple comparison: Yod is faster, stronger, easily repaired and great in the sack. His only disadvantage is a lack of experience, but that will be corrected in time. Cyborgs, then, must be the next stage, or at least something like them (suggested by the augmentations sported by Nili and her people). However, Yod spends the whole book attempting to become more human. He is programmed to reprogram himself, and in doing so he makes himself more than the weapon he was created to be. Yet the weapon at his core remains; despite all the influence of Malkah, Yod viewed Avram as his creator, and in this particular set of internal consistencies, that means destruction.

The qualities that make Yod such an ideal tool of destruction (his strength, skill in the Net, tactical ability and built-in ordnance), except perhaps for the explosive element, are all things we normal humans are envious of. However, they separated Yod from humanity, condemning him to a brief and violent life. I am positive that he would have traded his enhanced capacities for real flesh and blood, and the assurance that he feels what others feel, in a heartbeat. We may worry at times that our futures are set in stone, and our actions are already written on the wheel of fate, but none of us have to face that fact in our lifetimes like Yod did. Uncertainty about the future is not such a terrible thing, and a trait I'm sure Yod would value higher than any of his cyborg attributes. Like Joseph, his creation was a work of genius that resulted in something less capable, in all respects other than physical strength, than any real human.

Finally, I'd like to point out the interesting combination of Mother-Maiden-Crone in Malkah, Riva, and Shira. However, I'd place Shira in the Mother role, with Riva as the Maiden. Ridiculous, I know! But an afterthought. Bear with me.

Journey to the Center of the Moon

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress is the second Heinlein book I've read, after Starship Troopers. I now realize that I can't decide whether Heinlein is a great sci-fi writer and a poor sociopoliticist or vice-versa. He introduces amazing sci-fi concepts which cut to the heart of the things we listed in class as being definitive of sci-fi, but then he dispenses with those elements as soon as they have served his narrative purpose. He then takes glorious stands on the side of libertarianism, offering a eudaimonic picture of what a free society should be. However, he is also very guilty of attacking conflicting political philosophies through straw man arguments, and (somewhat more importantly) how much of a utopia is a place that is essentially ruled through mob violence?!

The best way to express my frustration with Heinlein is by comparing him with Charles Dickens (bear with me). Dickens was a great writer; his words provided a gateway into the terrible conditions faced by the poor of his time, and a greater feeling of London in general. However, his chief failing is widely considered to be his dependence on coincidence in his stories; in a city of millions, you can always count on proximity to be proportional to dramatic effect in his placement of characters throughout the city. Similarly, Heinlein's story relies on a set of very specific circumstances that his narrative style encourages us to believe arrive through good luck. To paraphrase my comment on this blog's last post:

Need a supercomputer that's alive and your best friend? Check. Need an intellectual with expert knowledge of the world's political history, as well as psychology? Check. Need a woman for...well, don't get me started on Heinlein's treatment of women. Need a contact on Earth? Check. Pieces don't fall into place as much as they are forced there by Heinlein's need to create the perfect revolution.

So after demonstrating that a libertarian revolution on the Moon is is perfectly possible (provided, of course, that it is a libertarian revolution on the Moon directed by Heinlein), what's left for the book? I'm not very impressed by Heinlein's depiction of the political situation after the revolution, either. I get the sense that he knows two basic things about politics: he likes rational anarchy, and most people don't. Because of this, once it comes time to actually discuss the new political order, Heinlein (and, by extension, his narrator) completely loses interest. Heck, even his most interesting sci-fi element, Mike, is merely a tool to further the political goal of REVOLUTION! I was most interested in reading about Mike's growth as a person; I wanted to see the poetry he'd been writing, and test his ability to think and feel. If I had been Manny, I would have locked myself in a room with Mike and not come out. Heinlein being Manny, however, he merely brushes off Mike's attempts to further his own sensitivity. After Mike shuts down, Manny misses his friend, but it never occurs to him that humanity has lost an amazing opportunity to explore the field of creating new life, new forms of consciousness.

And now it's time to talk about Heinlein's view of women. I should have been ready for this from Starship Troopers, where he literally discusses women as though they are a completely different species. As far as I can tell, Heinlein just doesn't know how to write women, which is why the only ones he gives a real personality to here are an old woman and Wyoh, who he explicitly states is more like a man in many ways. If you thought Wells' Time Traveler was a sexual predator of sorts, then you should be prepared to recognize that Heinlein's writing basically molests women as a gender. In Heinlein, no mention of a woman is complete without discussion of her sexuality; his descriptions of pubescent girls are enough to make Nabokov blush, and even poor Ludmilla is described as being killed by an exploding bullet impacting between her breasts. Wyoh is presented as devastatingly beautiful for no other reason, it seems, than to provide Heinlein with the vicarious sexual thrill of 'bundling' with her through Manny.

So there you have it. The extent of sci-fi in Heinlein is merely a prop to provide an excuse for him to foment revolution where it would otherwise be impossible. His political arguments are unfair, giving only lip service to the idea of open discussion (except for the "Randists," who, he apparently believes, have some good ideas!). His views on women are neanderthal at best; what good is sexual liberation if it causes them to become nothing more than sex objects? He is an entertaining and engaging writer, true, but where many people see a visionary of the future, I see a political hack pushing his agenda with tools that give him the best excuse for it.