Questioning Our Assumptions in The Time Machine

We spent much of class discussing the problems we had with The Time Machine, most of which were issues with the scientific believability of the world as Wells described it. I believe that our discussion on those issues was useful because it let us discuss why the issues we had problems with made sense or were at least possible explanations in the time in which the book was written. This led to discussion of what the book said about society in relation to the context of the society at the time Wells wrote it, which allows us a deeper understanding of what he was trying to say about society and the pitfalls it needs to avoid.

On the other hand, the fact that we had to discuss the believability of the novel at all leads me to question how we were reading it. Though it was meant to take place in our world, the world of today is so different from both the world in which Wells lived and the one he created that we cannot judge the book based on criteria from today’s world. The book consistently follows it’s own logic, so we should not have to question the world it shows us. However, we do question that world, and not just because we are reading the book from a modern perspective. We also question that world because the Time Traveller himself questions that world. He doesn’t question it by pointing out what doesn’t make sense, but he questions it by creating hypotheses about it that are continually wrong. Because Wells forces us to see this new world through the Time Traveller’s eyes, his assumptions become our own, and as those assumptions are disproved, we begin to mistrust our own judgments of what is taking place in the future that Wells shows us.

V for Victimhood

I envy all of you who may be reading this for the first time. Sad to say, it just isn't the same the second time around. Where a book like Dune only gains in the rereading, V for Vendetta relies too heavily on twists and sudden reveals, however dramatic they are, to be anywhere near as interesting after the first time. Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to enjoy it once again with you.

The character of V is an interesting one, and I'm not referring to the man who was injected with chemicals at a concentration camp. I'm talking about the identity assumed by that man, which he then passes on to Evey. V seeks to create the land of Do-As-You-Please, a place where freedom is the watchword. We can only assume, lacking evidence to the contrary, that this is very similar to Heinlein's "rational anarchy." V doesn't pretty its political ideology with the throwaway word "rational," but the precepts are pretty much the same: everyone can do what they want, and things will just work out for the best. V effectively achieves its goals by destroying whatever bloated authority exists in society and then educating the remainder.

Disregarding the question of whether enforced anarchy is merely tyranny of another stripe, V fulfills a role much like Mike: its immense knowledge and power makes the anarchic revolution possible, and then it runs the risk of exerting too much control and making the revolution moot. However, Mike's friends recognized the danger of allowing him to remain in power. V, on the other hand, is portrayed as the perfect hero of a new age. Each book takes the cheap cop-out of showing how its idyllic society actually forms, but V offers a much more sinister expectation. What happens to the most capable being in an anarchic society? Well, if individuals behave rationally and attempt to maximize their self-interest, then eventually the entire society coalesces around that most capable being. V's ability to initiate change, immense knowledge base and mythical status mean that it must exempt itself from the day-to-day occurrences of the world it hopes to create.

The Future

Like a god unto men, it walked
Smiting all those who displeased
And we, in turn, were smitten
By its grace and the way it talked

In our poor judgment we followed
The creature so perfect and free
That promised us nothing but treasure
Yet all of its words were so hollowed

Those great men who seek to lead
Weaker men heed their words
But the stranger, dismayed, will cut
And the strongest among us will bleed

We return once again to our caves
Watching crabs gather on shore
To remember the days of society
And one day forget kings and knaves

Themes of Defiance

There are some who may argue that "defiance" is such a universal theme as to make it pointless to analyze it in any serious literary context. However, I believe that analyzing how individuals manifest defiance in their actions tells something important about their societies or cultures (or, in the case of fiction, about the society or culture of the author). So then, where do we find instances of defiance in Metropolis and The Time Machine?

Examples in the former are pretty obvious -- pretty much everybody defies the ruler of the city, Joh Fredersen. Workers defy their boss and place in society, a son defies his father, and a mad scientist defies fate and death. In building a New Tower of Babel, the boss himself defies God and Judeo-Christian religious tradition. In Metropolis, defiance is not met with immediate punishment, but rather with indirect, passive-aggressive retaliation. Fredersen's discovery of duplicity in his workers and son does not spark the immediate crackdown one would expect from a virtual dictator. Instead, he sends an agent to encourage dissent among the workers (that he may punish them for more open defiance), and he merely places a tail on his son. Freder himself is almost killed by his sympathy for the workers. Rotwang the scientist's disloyalty is punished not by the higher powers he disregards, but he is forced to lose his love to the machinations of Fredersen once again. And despite his attempts to build a tower tall enough to allow him to spit in God's face, Fredersen must face the terrible truth that his arrogance could cost him the life of his son, which crushes the delicate machismo he had so carefully cultivated in his stewardship of the city. In other words, in Metropolis, people may defy, but they sure don't get away with it.

Well, what about The Time Machine? Not much room in that one for defiance, I agree. Aside from the Time Traveler's willingness to defy his colleagues' quaint ideas of the laws of physics and time, that's about it. But then again...that's just it. The Time Traveler breaks the very laws that govern our existence. Joh Fredersen maintains the conceit that he has bested God, but it's actually very easy to defy God. People do it all the time, all over the place, and God doesn't lift a (metaphysical) finger to stop them. But time is the great equalizer...we're all subject to it, and we all eventually fall victim to it. The Time Traveler defies the greatest absolute we know, and gets away with it (until something mysterious happens and he never comes back, but we aren't explicitly sure that he's encountered something bad).

Unfortunately, there is a major contradiction between the two worlds that makes it extremely difficult to compare them. While Metropolis exists in its own contained universe, The Time Machine is an instance of one society's representative commenting on another society. It's easy to talk about systems of defiance in punishment in the Metropolis fiction, but it's never clear whether the Time Traveler is being punished or not. Certainly he risks punishment in his own time (in the form of lost status) if he fails to demonstrate a working time machine. And while his trip to the future is hardly kind to him, he learns much about what we might become and takes away the satisfaction of successfully traveling through time. Although he gets a little disheveled, he returns to England essentially unscathed. Even his vision of the future is pointedly lacking in forms of punishment; everything has become meaningless, and whether one lives or dies is a function of luck more than anything else. However, Wells goes out of his way to mention that a lack of defiance is the main cause of the blasé attitude of the Eloi. His intrepid hero, therefore, is representative of the greatest defiance (and therefore, strength) a human can muster. His disappearance is all the more tragic, and could conceivably be the turning point at which humanity began to lose the fight against entropy.

Now we know that a lack of defiance leads to a breakdown of society, and hidden defiance (or defiance against abstract concepts) leads to psychological or slow-burning retaliation. Unfortunately, these aren't really mutually interactive principles. The world of The Time Machine has no room for subterfuge, so the ideas of Metropolis can't apply there. Similarly, industry is dead by the year 800,000 and some; a distant time where nothing is left has no relation to the fast-paced near future offered by Lang. The important similarities are the class divisions and the theme of the "human creative impulse" (a term I feel free to use interchangeably with "defiance"). The "human creative impulse" is, in my opinion, the urge of every individual to be in control of his or her own future. It is perhaps best demonstrated in that the Eloi lack it entirely, while the events in Metropolis are caused by one man's struggle to quash the HCI of everyone else in the world.

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I have one more point of defiance to offer, although it's going to be quite weak. As a very strong Star Wars fan, I was extremely dismayed to learn that it wouldn't be an object of our study. Please do not confuse me with a fan seeking to expand our working definition to include Star Wars; I appreciate Professor Jackson's definition of science fiction as a perfectly sensible one (and ultimately necessary for a meaningful study of social science and science fiction). To be fair, I largely ignore the movies when I make the argument that Star Wars, at least in parts, deserves to be considered science fiction. Star Wars films, especially with the release of the prequel trilogy, stray very far from any form of systematic social conjecture. They are naked settings for fantastic adventures of swords and princesses, swashbuckling tales that are betrayed immediately by their inspirations as absent of any deep consideration of politics, technology, or the ramifications of alien contact.

Yet there is no doubt that the Star Wars universe is a compelling one, if for no other reason than its sheer scope. In a galaxy that is at least as large as our own, containing millions of inhabitable worlds (not necessarily only for humans), there exists an expanded universe, originally created as mere backstory, that has gone beyond its humble origins to create a living, breathing universe with detailed systems of politics, economics, religion, ethics, conflict and above all a true sense of history. If "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," then
who is to say that, in the far past of Star Wars, some brilliant scientist created a retrovirus that infected all living beings with an ability to harness the power of the brains over nature through what became known as the Force? It's true that the aliens of Star Wars (with many notable exceptions!) are by and large humans in funny-shaped bodies; however, I find this to be perfectly reasonable in a universe where interplanetary travel has been the norm for longer than anyone can remember. To use an example from our world, advances in transportation technology are fast eroding the differences between people all over the earth; English has become a sort of global language, and there are many symbols and cultural elements that are present in every culture around the world. All of this has occurred over a period of less than a century; is it really fair to declare that no sufficiently advanced galactic society can be considered representative of science fiction? Certainly, it is a different genre of science fiction than The Time Machine or Metropolis. But is it fair to cut it out entirely? Is there really no value in positing a universe where the major initial problems of interacting with alien species are a thing of the past? I argue that Star Wars presents a world of galactic politics and trade that is important for us to consider, as it at least represents a place in history that many people dream of humanity reaching.