Substantive: The Sparrow

I apologize; I'm usually a great deal more punctual about this blog posts but for once I was waiting for someone to post first. I spent the weekend reading both The Sparrow and Children of God (a huge mistake for my personal well-being and any feelings of optimism I was privately cherishing) and I'll have to confess Sparrow was at once one of the most horrifying and enlightening books about alien contact that I have ever read. I've often speculated about the insertion of religious elements into alien contact, particularly after we read Grass, and here we see what happens when the sacred and profane intersect and it is fascinating--and terrible.

Andrew and I were talking over Facebook, briefly, about the elements of music in a religious context and how they related to the book (at which point I obliquely spoiled part of it, for which I apologize profusely). I mentioned that I thought it was incredibly interesting how, having come from a religious background myself (closer to Sofia Mendes' mode than Emilio's), we associate music with something pure and sacred. In this book, however, we find out that those musical messages, those songs we've been hearing from across the stars, are actually the account of something pretty profane--basically pornography. And the fact that, after twenty-nine years, Sandoz's celibacy is ended at the beginning of his tenure as a Jana'ata sex slave is just heartbreaking. But it represents something I've been consistently worried about: the difficulties in interspecies communication.

With the Runa, linguistic understanding seems to be more clear--the scientists and missionaries spend a significant period of time among them and it seems to be part of their MO to learn different languages and interpret in order to facilitate trade. But because of the way Jana'ata culture is set up and the way Emilio (rather blunderingly) explains his role as a priest and his understanding of celibacy, it's implied that he gets sold in sex slavery because of a misunderstanding. And the same with Mendes--she interferes with the structure of society because she interprets it from a human perspective, which results in what is essentially a massacre.

I wish I could talk about this more intelligently but I'm still thinking it through.

Reflection: His Master's Voice

First off, Phil, I am definitely NOT a bastard! Unless, of course, somewhere between the course of graduating with a bachelor's of science and getting your PhD, you suddenly become completely disingenuous to society and decide that it's not worth your time. I can't say for sure, though. Graduate school can be a scary place.

I want to dedicate this post to the scientists of the world. The general consensus on HMV, at least from discussion and posts, that the book is firmly in a kind of "anti-scientist" camp. We've arrived in a situation where, when prompted with the PTJ's question of who do we entrust the message to, half the class is ready to throw it to the poets instead of the scientists (at least no one really threw it to the government camp). And before that, PTJ asked what kind of success we can attribute to HMV, comparing it to something like the Manhatten Project. Where we ended up was a kind of vilification of the scientific process, where we look at HMV, with its lack of answers and say "these guys suck because they got nothing definite out of it". Personally, I find that trend extremely disturbing in. Let me try and convince you that the HMV project, as it was outlined in the book, couldn't have been given to the "elves".

First off, the question of the "success" of the project. Whatever happened to the scientific method? You guys remember that, right? Going in with an attitude of whether or not something is "successful" is influencing your results from the start. In the end, that's what the government wanted in HMV. From the beginning of the project, it was pretty obvious the military wanted some kind of weapon from it. Imagine if drug companies ran trials predicated on whether or not their drug worked, and when their drug killed people instead of helping them, walked away calling it "unsuccessful" and fail to publish results (well... actually they do this pretty often, despite it being quite illegal). Just because you negate a possibility doesn't mean it's unsuccessful! In science, the very definition of success can be the negation of theories. Therefore, PTJ's question about the success of the HMV isn't even a legitimate question! That line of thinking arises from our basic assumption that the signal actually is a message, that it somehow means something, which is probably a common view point. It's the wrong view point.

But, of course, there are practical problems here. Let's go back to my "pure" science argument from class, which is really a distinction of "science for the sake of science" and "science for humanity". Science for the sake of science is something like what I do for research right now - that is, looking at the evolutionary relationships within a phylum of marine worms that have NOTHING to do with humanity. That's science for the sake of science. You can't really say my research is "successful", because it has no expected end-point. We're simply looking to expand humanity's knowledge. Of course, you can say whether or not the science in it is valid (like, you can't just throw away results you don't like), but it's not like I'm looking to make something out of these worms. Science for humanity is something like cancer research. It has a goal, and it can actually be judged on a scale of "success". But there, we know there is an attainable end-product. We have enough knowledge to form protocols - we know cancer is the result of human cell mutation, and not, say, alien cells inhabiting our bodies.

In His Master's Voice, the government treats the interstellar message like it's cancer research. This is the wrong approach. Discovering the TX effect during the HMV project is equivalent to me discovering that my marine worms produce weapons grade plutonium out of their rectum. It would be a product of research, but not a goal of research. So, we know the government took the wrong approach to HMV, but is there any evidence that their expectation of a product from the research directly affected the science of the project? Clearly hardly any of the scientists at HMV were government officials, and had no purposeful drive to make some kind of weapon. And clearly, all sorts of research was allowed, and Hogarth didn't mention research purposely stifled by the government. Perhaps the only influence of the government was the secrecy of the project and its placement of scientists in one facility - but it's evident from the book that this helped research, since public release of information hasn't led to many more successes.

So, would I give the project over to purely the government? No, since they clearly have motivations which hinder their success. We're already seen how being biased toward the message didn't help. Certainly just looking for a weapon isn't the best option. Of course, the second option is what we've collectively called the "poets", or people who think "outside the box". That's all well and good, but I see one massive problem there: they have no ability to work with quantifiable data. Sure, an artist or a poet thinks differently about the world than a scientist, but what could they do with it? Without some kind of quantitative analysis of it, something only the scientists are equipped to do, the poet is trapped in the realm of the physiological qualitative analysis. And, of course, early on in the book, Hogarth runs through what is effectively a proof on how physiological qualitative analysis of the message is one of the most biased ways of looking at the message. It's like trying to force it into a human context when there is no human context.

The most immediate opposition to this point that I can see is the "philosopher argument", where someone could apply qualitative analysis to the message without bringing in their physiological biases, someone who would think "outside the box". This is all a well and good theory, but in practice, it's hardly doable. How could someone who didn't have scientific training think qualitatively about massive amounts of very specific data? It doesn't work - it's not that easy, nor is it that simple.

Let me end by saying that Hogarth's critique's of the scientists he was working with was valid. But what I think many who read the book failed to realize that Hogarth wasn't criticizing all of science, he was criticizing bad science. And for people who don't really know a lot about how science works, it's hard to tell good science from bad science. Hogarth obviously had it out for scientists who thought there was some kind of "goal" for the message, or outright believed that it was obviously a message of good or evil. He was denouncing having a bias going into it. And, at the same time, he was criticizing them for not thinking outside the box - they weren't being creative, and they weren't relying on quantitative data to back them up. In reality, what the HMV really needed was zero government involvement in terms of driving towards a goal, and a team of scientists who had the ability to analyze their data as if they were "philosophers". In the end, it got a little bit of that, but certainly not enough. What HMV pointed out was the fragility of scientific understanding, and just how much we DON'T know. In science, and hopefully in all disciplines, the more you know, the more you realize you don't know. HMV was a grand testament to how much we don't know. And that's a good thing.

Reflection: His Master's Voice

I'll confess, I became rather frustrated in Thursday's class. Mostly because the assumptions we were making about universality were utterly and completely ethnocentric. It's something I've reflected on before--my sincere belief that alien contact is virtually impossible, not because of them, but because we are so obsessed with ourselves and so invested in the idea that what we are and what we know is law or universal that we assume everyone else will know. It's like an American who thinks, if he speaks slowly and loudly enough, that the French crepe salesman on Boulevard St. Germain will understand him. No. That's not how it works.

We can talk about concepts of math and science being universal. They probably are. But the way we see them, the way we interpret them--that's a human thing. We think in digits because, at some point, we started by counting on our fingers. We think about binary and calculus and algebra because those are the mechanisms we developed to translate the natural phenomenon that we saw. An alien species might have a totally different way of expressing things. In all honesty, when we argued in class that we didn't want the crackpots involved, my first thought was that the people you really should have on this team, studying the transmission, are the ones that don't think like everyone else. The ones that don't box themselves into that definition of human normality that seems to be limiting our understanding of anything outside ourselves. The poets and the dreamers and the schizophrenics might do a better job at figuring out this message than a bunch of scientists and bureaucrats.

Substantive: His Master's Voice

I have to say, I probably enjoyed His Master's Voice a little bit more than regular folks would. The entire novel reads like a first-hand account of a huge event in science. I just happen to love non-fiction books written by scientists who have made major discoveries, first and foremost The Double Helix by James D. Watson. Then again, the very fact that I openly compare it to these kinds of books paints a very accurate, and maybe a little disturbing picture, of His Master's Voice. I find there are two poignant themes within the book: Cold War politics and science being the most obvious, and the far more subtle critique of science in general. I have a feeling that our class discussion will hover mostly around the subject of Cold War politics and nuclear weapons far more than the critique of science, so I'm going to hopefully encourage some discussion on the more subtle subject, seeing as though it pertains directly to my studies as a biologist.

I think in many ways, Hogarth comes off as a typical pompus scientist, as he generally seems good at tearing down the ideas of others. I admit to the harshness of Hogarth's character, but he is undeniably the voice of what science is. The entire pursuit of truth is based on the peer review process, and Hogarth's demolishing personality is exactly what SHOULD be happening in science. Lem isn't satirizing the scientific process through his main character's actions, he's satirizing the scientific process through the others that Hogarth sees. In essence, Lem is speaking through Hogarth, not setting up Hogarth as the one being satirized. This gives us clues to what exactly Lem has in mind when Hogarth rips apart other scientists attempts at deducing what exactly the message means or implies. The first answers his colleagues come up with are incredibly biased, being based in black and white contexts of "good and evil" nature of the Senders, or whether or not Frog Eggs represents some alien plot to take them over. Hogarth/Lem is right in calling them out as fools, since they're obviously projecting their own views on the message instead of basing their conclusions on hard facts. The message-as-a-Rorschach-test theme plays a prominent role here, and even ties into Hogarth/Lem's brief critique of science fiction, which unsurprisingly, bears resemblance to the hypothesis put up by the scientists that Hogarth criticizes.

The other issue at hand when considering Lem's critique of science is the very question of the signal itself. It's pretty clear that by the end of the book , no one has an answer after years of research. It immediately raises of the question of whether or not it was actually worth it to invest the time, energy, and money into that kind of research. Hogarth gives some justification of it, explaining that many new advances came out of the fields post HMV, so from a purely practical application, the project was probably worth it. But it certainly is telling that even after, it's impossible for humans to even discern whether or not the signal was natural or not. Clearly Lem is telling us that this is beyond human comprehension, beyond what humans can know, at least at this time. Is Lem trying to indicate that humans are not supposed to know certain things? Probably not, else Lem would have written a book sternly anti-scientific. However, I think Lem wants to recognize the falsehood of others preconceptions that science is a be-all end-all answer for things we don't know. If anything, Lem showcased the fragility and limited power of science, even when you bring the best and the brightest together.

Substantive: His Master's Voice

Whew! His Master's Voice...Where to start?

In another Honors colloquium I had to read a book entitled Revolution in Poetic Language by Julia Kristeva. Had to present on it, in fact. And while we were warned that HMV was, in common parlance, "a mindfuck," I assure you that East-Asian postmodern philosophy was even more so. I spent a quarter of an hour after one period staring at a tree, trying to understand the Jewel Net of Indra. So bear with me if what I'm about to say makes little to no sense, as much of my understanding of philosophy is, as implied above, intuitive rather than explicative.

Kristeva has this theory of the semiotic. The semiotic (distinctive from semiotics, which is a whole 'nother kettle of fish) is that which we understand to be true in language, while the symbolic is how we place it into meaning, by essentially trapping it with words. Poetic language, for instance, is an attempt to use the symbolic to penetrate the semiotic, or to get at the universal understanding--kind of like Jung's collective consciousness in a way. Kristeva equates the symbolic with order, mathematics, limited understanding...and it's interesting to me that Lem seems to be equating mathematics (or at least mathematics as our narrator understands it) on the semiotic side rather than the symbolic:

“How many times in my life, after the revelation of a new discovery, having formulated it so solidly that it was quite indelible, unforgettable, was I obliged to wrestle for hours to find for it some verbal suit of clothes, because the thing had been born, in me, beyond the pale of language, natural or formal?” (20)

That "suit of clothes" is the symbolic, and I feel like that struggle, whether or not Lem was really discussing post-structuralism (which I doubt he was), is somehow inherent to this book. Human beings have a semiotic understanding--when someone says the word "tree," for instance (or arbre, or eretz, or whatever) we know what the tree is. We understand that connection because of shared experience. Establishing communication with aliens is infinitely more difficult because that shared understanding is absent. We cannot look for linguistic patterns because we don't know what those patterns are or if they will in any way be similar to ours. It's something I've never genuinely considered before and the possibility is fascinating. If we were to come into contact with alien beings, we'd have to pray that they have sufficient technology to translate us (like a TARDIS or something), because God knows we would have no idea what to do. It's like an American in a foreign country, hoping that if he speaks loudly and slowly enough everyone will understand.

Reflection: Grass

Today, I want to do something a little different with my blog post. Normally, I try and focus solely on political aspects and interpretation of the books we read. Rarely have I deviated from the social sciences in these analyses. But lately, my own opinion of the social sciences has changed, so I think my kind of analyses of these books needs to change too. In a nutshell, I can summarize my view of social sciences very simple: they are only reflections of the ecology and biology of the human race. For example, under my system of analyses, war is caused by a number of ecological factors seen in ecosystems, such as a competitive niche (two groups wanting the same resources).

Of course, this gets more complex as we go, but always boils down to ecological and biological factors. One might struggle to explain a war based purely on ideologies and, say, religion. However, I challenge someone to argue that these wars are NOT due to either side seeing fundamental differences between themselves (I highlight "seeing", as there probably is no significant biological difference actually in play). We know from evolutionary biology that genes are inherently selfish - their evolution must include this, for non-selfish genes are quickly eliminated from the gene pool by selfish genes. Richard Dawkins, in The Selfish Gene, his first of many remarkable books on evolution and ecology, takes this conclusion to its logical outcome - that the only way for genes to truly be selfish and preserve themselves to to exhibit phenotypes that promote their selfish tendencies (I speak of genes in a personified manner, which is of course in error - what they actually reflect is tendencies within a limited statistical system known as natural selection - it's just easier to write them as acting on their own, though). This means that successful species exhibit phenotypes which preclude "otherness". (To answer the religious war example, we see that because humans possess genes which want to destroy otherness to preserve themselves, then its an advantage for these genes to attack what they perceive as otherness).

Which, at this point, is how I connect Mr Dawkins' and my views back to Grass. Isn't that the whole point of this class, to discuss human reactions to otherness? Well, if we apply these biological principles to the systems that we've looked as so far, then things are illuminated totally different. Suddenly it's no longer a question of whether another species is humane or inhumane, it's a question of whether our biology allows for our coexistence or not based on completely other factors than whether they're "nice or not". So, how can we estimate whether or not we're going to kill each other?

A model in ecology, called the Lotka-Volterra model, allows us to look more closely at this. It attempts to look at factors seen in ecosystems and give them quantitative values which allow us to predict how species will react to one another. Since survival is often based completely on resources and competition for resources, the model I'm going to present is the Lotka-Volterra model of competition between two species. This is also a good model for what's happening in Grass. Remember: in Grass, humanity is now competing for a resources the Hippae have, the planet itself.

There are four results in the Lotka-Volterra model of competition based on four variables. The first two variables are called coefficients of competition, and are called a12 and a21. Simply put, they are the competitive effects of one species on another (we'll called humans 1 and Hippae 2 - a12 is the effect of humans on Hippae, and a21 is the effect of Hippae on humans). The other two variables are K1 and K2, or population equilibriums. These factors tell us the maximum number of that species the ecosystem can hold (for example, a forest may supply enough food for 100,000 butterflies, but any more than 100,000 the species will begin to starve, bringing the number back down to 100,000). Let's look at the four outcomes when we plot all four variables.

As you can see, of the 4 options, only ONE does not result in the destruction of one of the species (in fact, the unstable equilibrium kills BOTH). And in this stable equilibrium, there is an requirement of each of the four variables, that cannot change. To put it simply, stable equilibrium in close competition for resources is extremely rare - you just don't see it that often in nature. But of course, that's not to say it doesn't happen.

Let's get to the crux of the question - is this kind of thing happening in Grass? We know from what First tells us that the Hippae were once normal - they did not have such malice towards the world, and they were able to all transform into the foxen. But a mutation happened, and they began to produce their own eggs and peepers, and began killing for joy. Their first victims were the Arbai, unsurprisingly. When I first read about the Arbai, my gut reaction was "they would never make it that far". In my mind, I went back to the prisoner's dilemma, and related the Arbai to a player which would always trust instead of defect. So, naturally, they would be destroyed. Were the Arbai, however, competing with the Hippae for resources on Grass? It's hard to know completely, but it seems the competitive effect of the Arbai was low on the Hippae, but the competitive effect of the Hippae on the Arbai was huge - so naturally the Arbai were eliminated. Though the influence of the Hippae on the humans is probably equivalent to what it was for the Arbai, clearly the humans possess the ability to have a significantly more deadly effect on the Hippae. So, yes, we can apply our model to the species on Grass.

Is Tepper trying to tell us directly to use this model for her book? I bet not. But regardless, it works here, and I suspect Tepper did in fact have a message regarding ecosystems. Tepper seems to grasp that these kinds of systems are held in a delicate balance, that one change can offset a system that leads to the extinction of another. In this case, the mutation of the Hippae allowed them to become more fit than the Arbai, humans, and even the foxen, and this radically changed the world around them. What this mutation was caused by, we can't be sure, but Tepper seems to say that the influence of the Arbai may have brought about this sick mutation in the Hippae (I for one do not believe that we can call the Hippae "evil", there's no such thing in biology, and in fact there are many species on earth that act as sadistically as the Hippae, or more so. A cool example is the nematode that infects a snails brain to make it become more obvious to predators, so the nematode can transfer itself from the snail into the stomach of the bird and parasitize the bird. Sound like the Hippae much?)

Sentience, Humanity and Synthetic Beings

The question has been raised in class as to what defines “humanity” or “human nature.” Yet this question has been asked for thousands of years, and it continues to remain unanswered. Perhaps then humanity is defined not by a set of ethical goals or patterns of behavior, but by the capacity to make actions of both absolute good and evil, consciousness and to be self aware of one’s actions. For every act of bullying in a schoolyard there is a person who invites a shy child to play. While humans like Hitler exist, so do humans like Mother Theresa. By defining humanity as this capacity rather than a set of morals, humans can relate not only to other intelligent species, but other humans as well. It would be hard to find two civilizations that have identical value sets. Even the US and Canada have very diverse sets of morals concerning issues such as health care and welfare. If humanity is defined by the capacity, should we use the phrases sentient or sapience instead? Sentience is defined as the ability to perceive subjectively, while sapience is the ability to act with judgment. Frankly I prefer sentience as there are people who are unable to make proper judgment that are still able to have subjective thought. We’ve all belonged to this group at one point in our lives… when we were children. There are reasons why youths have limited freedoms and different sets of laws to govern them. However, even children or, as was discussed in class, sociopaths have the ability to feel and think subjectively.

For me, this discussion of sentience and sapience raises the question of how to define synthetic life forms? I have touched upon this topic before and would like to discuss it in greater depth. Would a Terminator or HAL 9000 be considered a sentient being with the rights of a human? In a way, we must recognize that as humans we are programmed. We are socialized from birth to have certain reactions and mentalities. This is why one regurgitates when one sees violent or horrific actions today that may have brought about laughter in Ancient Rome. The question of synthetic sentience was raised in Star Trek the Next Generation when Data the android’s freedom was brought on trial. Although Data lacks emotions, Captain Picard proved that Data was a sentient being because he was intelligent and self aware. An artificial mind may also come to value a person or ideology as essential or optimal to their existence and thus create a pseudo morality. An artificial intelligence can also can a unique personality through experience and interaction and in a way become socialized as well. Through this it can have a subjective mentality that affected by past experiences, just like you or I. Maybe a synthetic being will never be able to feel organic emotions, but I believe that if it can develop a consciousness and personality, it should be treated as an individual. I’d like to end my post with a quote from the T 800 in Terminator 2: “I know now why you cry, even if it is something I could never do.” AI is progressing and has the potential to coexist with organic life one day in the future. If we enslave or threaten an artificial life form, we will have an uprising against a mighty foe. Ever try to beat Chess Titans on expert?

Manifest Destiny, Hubris, Civil Liberties and oh yes... Captain Picard

America: “land of the free,” “city on a hill,” and “beacon of light.” America: a nation that has been divinely charged with a mission to expand and spread the virtues of democracy and capitalism. These sentiments and ideas, although originating centuries ago, are alive and well today. Although we Americans might not be fighting Native Americans over land, we are fighting two wars to spread democracy. America continues to be the world’s most patriotic nation and as a global hegemony it occupies a unique and unprecedented position. Although patriotism and nationalism can be meritable in certain amounts, certain nationalistic views can lead to blindness. One of the tenants of Manifest Destiny is that due to the uniqueness of America it may take morally questionable actions in the pursuit of virtuous goals. In the recent War on Terror, this has become apparent in the suspension of civil liberties and basic human rights in the name of national security and the spreading of democracy. While America might condemn other nations for pursuing such actions, such as Iran, because America is exceptional and pursuing its’ mission, its’ actions are excusable. In response, I would say that one should lead by example and that if one betrays one’s basic principles to fight an enemy, is the fight a just one? Captain Picard commented that when basic freedoms are disregarded, it form a chain arounf all of us that grows and grows until freedom for all is damaged http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjJN08uqt70. For these reasons I do not adhere to the principles of Manifest Destiny. America is unique and has many good attributes; however, it is not the only nation with viable ideas and concepts. Norway and Canada are ranked as freer nations with higher standards of living and happiness than the US. We cannot afford to be narrow minded, not now and especially when we encounter extraterrestrials. I hypothesize that humans will form their own anthropocentric form of Manifest Destiny. This cannot be allowed to happen. If we treat the ways of other sentient beings as nonviable or inferior, it was cause conflict and perhaps leads to unjust conquest and xenocide, such as what occurred with the Native Americans. We cannot have the hubris to say that as humans we are inherently better. We are unique, but not necessarily the best. As Americans, we have much to learn from the other nations of the world. As humans, we have much to learn from other species when we encounter them. For these reason, I would argue against Manifest Destiny. As Americans we have a unique position to influence the world for the better, but this should not be done at the cost of the self determination of others or hypocrisy.

Reflection: Grass; The Hippae vs. the Descolada

Forgive me for going back to Speaker et al. but it was something that came to mind today. There's an argument in Xenocide and Children of the Mind over whether the descolada is raman or varelse, mainly because of the discovery that it actually possesses some form of communication through molecular transmission. One of the frightening parts of this argument, however, is that if the descolada is a terraforming device (there is evidence of this) and it changed the way piggies lived, what did it do to their intelligence? When the pequeninos fight wars, and build forests, are they doing it for their own reasons or for the descolada's reasons: Lusitania's temperature control? The conclusion, one of the conclusions, rather, is that if we start to view the piggies as merely a product of the control of another species, we have to look the same way at ourselves. Technically speaking, some things like mitochondria were once entirely separate organisms. We're a product of our own biological processes, but if we let those eclipse every other factor in our lives and behaviors we leave no room for choice, and therefore no accountability.

We kept going back and forth about the bons in class. About whether or not they were still human, having been under such control of the Hippae. And while the Hippae seem to be actively controlling them, we do get evidence (for example, with Sylvan) that they're not entirely under their control. There must have been a time before the almost-Pavlovian obsession with the Hunt was deeply ingrained, a time when we as a species could have stepped away from this. But we didn't. We can talk about the bons being Hippae-puppets but they're still making moral choices. And they should be held accountable for them.

Grass and theocracies of the future

Ah “Grass.” I enjoyed this novel immensely but frankly I thought all the characters should be smoking grass. This novel portrayed one of the most pessimistic renderings of human future I’ve ever read. However, after going to Catholic school… I would not say the most unrealistic. Although humanity has become more secular overall and I believe people in the West would rally against a religious hegemony, I do not believe that the concept of a future religious hegemony should be ruled out. Although one may say that religious fanaticism only exists in underdeveloped countries with low human security, one should turn one’s gaze to the religious right in our nation and organizations such as the Westboro Church. An excellent film to watch is “Jesus Camp” which documents a woman’s successful attempts to make hundreds of American children willing to give their lives for Christ. Here’s a clip highlighting some of the more horrific parts of the film: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LACyLTsH4ac. The fact that movements like this are growing in America only renders organizations such as the Sanctity more realistic. Religious hegemonies are not an alien concept to science fiction. For example, in Halo the main antagonist is a religious juggernaut known as the Covenant. Religious fanaticism is also explored in Battlestar Galactica. However, theocracies are often doomed to eneffeiciency. Delagating posts based on faith rather than merit often leads to corruption and ineptness. Policy based on ecclestial reasoning rather than logic or rational thought also leads to inane descision making. Also, basing the authority to rule on a divine mandate rather than the consent of the people can lead to rebellion and a failure to meet public needs. For these reasons I believe that a theocracy would be short lived in a contemporary or futuristic setting, even if it reached the status of hegemony. Besides this, religious fanaticism often leads to the impediment of technological and scientific advancement, making it difficult for humanity to compete with a more secular race or even reach the stars. This is refenced to in grass actually as the Sanctity slowed progress and colonization. Actually religious fanaticism often calls for reactionary action concerning science and technology. It was interesting to see though how the Sanctity used DNA collection and machines to ensure immortality. For me this provided a different concept of how resurrection can be achieved. Although I do not know if the DNA was meant for cloning, it must also be realized that clones do not bring back the consciousness of the original person.

Blindness and Borgness

One of the points I regret that we did not expand on in class was that of social realities. Professor Jackson remarked that Manifest Destiny was not merely a concept, but a lens through which to view the world. A social reality is one that may not objectively be real, but because a person views a phenomenon as real due to social ingraining, a person will act on it as if it were real. For example, within pre-agricultural societies thunder may have been viewed as a deity. Although thunder is not godlike, these people acted and interpreted their world as if this were true. Manifest Destiny created many social realities. Many Americans viewed their culture as inherently superior and thus acted and subconsciously belittled foreign cultures. Many Americans also viewed Native Americans as savage and inhumane and thus treated them not as a self determined people, but as subhuman because to them that was the truth. I believe an example on this can also be seen in "War of the Worlds" when a group of indigenous Tazmanians were described not as men, but as another species. Although this was not the case, due to the imperial European mentality, to many Europeans the reality was that they were indeed an alien species. This is one reason imperialists were able to act with such savagery. Although there may be evidence to the contrary, if a concept is buried deeply within a person, defense mechanisms often prevent a person’s reality from being shattered. I wonder if our social realities will prevent us from having good relations with extraterrestrials. Would we automatically view a gruesome aliens as a foe? Would we be anthropocentric? Would we treat non humans inhumanely?
I also found the idea of America as the Borg intriguing. We view America as a melting pot, as an assimilation of other cultures to form something inherently exceptional. Outside of America we often try to enforce our values and principles on other nations, whether it is through force such as with Iraq or subtly through economic means. In order to become a full fledged trading partner, America often makes developing countries take on American principles of liberal economics and small government, even when it is illogical or detrimental. We have also been known to support shoddy democracies over popularly supported communist regimes because communism is abhorrent to American values. America also supports the democratic peace theory, which is the concept that nations that are democracies do not fight with one another and that by democratizing the world that long term peace will ensue. I would also like to point out how American culture and products are dispersed throughout the world. Part of Manifest Destiny is a feeling of righteousness that America is moral “city on a hill’ and should spread this to other nations. Although America does not assimilate other groups to take their biological and technological advances, it does seem as if we do try to make other groups to take on our customs and become more like us because we often view our way of life as the right way. I would also like to address a statement that someone raised in class that we did not forcibly assimilate the Native Americans into our society. This is actually untrue as Native American children were often forcibly taken to religious boarding schools and were often legally compelled to adapt a sedentary lifestyle.

Substantive: Grass

After spending my spring break in Tampa, FL, I realize that Grass probably wasn't my number one choice for a beach book, or at least it wasn't your typical relaxing read. The entire work read nothing like we've covered so far in class, and at the beginning felt more like Dune with complex terminology introduced immediately compared to the ease of reading something like Ender's Game. I had no idea what Tepper was trying to get across with "hounds" and "mounts", and it took far longer than other novels to get to the "alien as the other" distinction that we've been covering so far.

But despite my initial struggles with the novel, it was well worth the time it took to read. What Grass offered wasn't the typical alien situation where we could easily Schmittian politics - it went, in many ways, into territory that Schmitt can hardly answer. In our class discussion from The Concept of the Political, we outlined situations in which the Schmittian model breaks down - when the species are far too powerful, or they are far too weak. I feel as though in Grass, we've reached first conclusion - the Hippae are far more powerful than the humans. That fact is unique in itself since the Hippae are at best described as mere adolescence compared to their next form, the foxen. But even at this juvenile stage, the Hippae have managed to not only wipe out the Arbai, but have also nearly wiped out the humans.

What is Tepper trying to accomplish with Grass? Of course it's worth noting the dominance of Sanctity in Tepper's vision, virtually eliminating other religions as a consequence. But even this organization is ignorant and foolhardy when it comes to Grass and handling the plague. It seems completely unable to understand the realities of the Hippae, and are ill-prepared when they finally land upon the planet. In my eyes, Sanctity represents a humanity completely out of touch with the natural world, unable to understand its ways. Marjorie, through her deep relationship with her horses, understands what is happening on the almost primitive world of Grass. It seems as though Tepper is telling humanity, through this particular experience with extraterrestrials, that we are far from understanding the natural world, and that sometimes the natural world does not want us understanding it, and sometimes the natural world purposely prevents us from seeing its true self.

Substantive: Grass

We discussed in class, while reading The Martian Chronicles, about the potential concerns of a telepathic race. What would happen if human beings came into contact with them, what kind of control could they exert, etc. Here in Grass we see all too clearly what would happen: the Hippae, brutal and cruel, use human beings as a tool in their war to conquer Grass at the expense of the foxen, who they cannot believe are a higher version of themselves. It was horrific, to me, to see such a tradition--a barbaric one, but a tradition nonetheless--as the foxhunt perverted for the means of slaughter of intelligent beings.

I know this is a class focusing on aliens, so the Hippae, the Hounds, the Foxen--that should be our focal point, but the bons seem to me even more exceptionally alien: perhaps because their minds have been overshadowed by the mounts. To be fair, they reject (as does Marjorie, in a way) the Manifest Destiny imposed by the Sanctified, who seem to see the universe as a focal point for spreading the gospel, whatever that may be. However, they also seem to lack the basic human empathy, as for instance when Marjorie brings up the plague, and Sylvan professes not to care.

Is this what isolation does to human beings? I understand that there are outlying factors, in particular the telepathic dominance of the Hippae, but it seems to me that a group as aristocratic and isolated, as well as turned inward, as the bons would eventually forget the rest of humanity. The absent-minded cruelty of this class is not entirely out of order, even in our own history--British imperialism and the White Man's Burden, for instance. And yet, even amongst themselves, thanks to the Hippae, they seem to have turned into something other than humans. Shevlok ravishes an insensible Janetta, the Ordmun bon Danfels physically abuses his wife and daughters--we are their pets, to do with as they like, and as the book continues we see that the humans most exposed to the Hippae become most like them. Joy-to-kill-strangers is, I believe, the Arbai word the Hippae trace in the cavern.

I think it's interesting that you insert into this story, on the other side, a devoutly Catholic equestrian. Marjorie's values are challenged frequently--most often by her own marriage, where her husband, despite openly having a mistress, blames her for their difficulties--and in her we see how potent the notion of original sin can be. How potent guilt can be. And yet, with Marjorie, we see someone who is driven into action by it, in particular towards the end of the book, whereas the foxen, who seem to possess nothing but guilt, are virtually immobilized.

Reflection: Manifest Destiny

In last Thursday's class, we seemed to unusually skate around the subject this ENTIRE course is dedicated to: contact with extraterrestrial alien species. I think PTJ tried at a few points to round it back to that central point, but we seemed pretty concentrated on America's history rather than its potential future in space. In this post I want to try and extrapolate what we mentioned in class and bring it forward into an interstellar context. Here, the issues we brought up in class are accentuated further - differences among beings highlighted by a concept like manifest destiny is magnified one hundred fold by the fact that in space, we ARE actual different species, a very poignant biological and political fact.

Before reading Stephanson's work, I never imagined that the political force of manifest destiny still exerted itself in the modern world. Perhaps in a few aspects I was correct - the manifest destiny of the late 1800s is very different from the manifest destiny of the 21st century. However, the disturbing trend that remains in American ideology, what we pointed out as something beyond simple American exceptionalism, is that America has a God given place amongst the universe. This, of course, is the most poignant point of all - the idea, even the risk - that America could carry its "manifest destiny" to the stars. What would this kind of stance lead to in an interstellar context? We already established in class that America is uniquely capable of bringing itself and its own ideology beyond its own borders. Was it imperialism, or just "spreading democracy"?

The issue brought up with America going into the stars with manifest destiny is not political, it is biological (Although, from the course so far, I have come to believe that the "political" is simply a vast misnomer for the biological, a point which would render my following discussion moot. However, for the sake of not writing an entire blog post on this distinction, I'll continue assuming that the two are worthy of a distinction.) Now instead of facing fellow man in an alien way, we'd encounter aliens in an alien way. Can you spread democracy to a being whose biological structure totally renders the concept of "universal rights" moot? Not to harp on my own point during class discussion, but I think my Speaker for the Dead example has more merit in the consideration of manifest destiny that it got credit for. If, in our thought experiment, America really does try and expand "human" rights to piggies, how do they account for the purely biological process that the fertile piggies go through when they're eaten from the inside by their young? Anyone assuming that the argument of basic human rights applied to aliens is EASIER than this is badly mistaken, and probably suffers from a "Star Trek species delusion". I think that's why PTJ brought into consideration the scene from Star Trek VI, where one of the klingon states that the phrase "human rights" is racist. And, honestly, I couldn't agree more.

In my opinion, America will be the first to reach the stars, and the country will be the first to encounter aliens. I wish I were a European citizen saying this, so it didn't sound purely like American exceptionalism, but I think we all agreed in class that America will be a world super power for a while longer. Therefore, the main issue we face is aspects of manifest destiny applied to alien races. The most recent form of manifest destiny has been the spreading of, or at least the facade of the spreading of, human rights and a democratic system. But if we accept basic biology principles, we encounter the fact that there's no way that any of our core values can be applied in an understandable way to an alien race. Whether or not this will lead to destruction of either species is still up for debate - my point, in general, is to simply say that the human rights argument is even weaker among the stars than it is between states.

Reflection: Manifest Destiny

We as Americans spend an awful lot of time talking about basic human rights. The phrase "inalienable rights" shows up in our Declaration of Independence, and the United Nations has an entire council devoted to ensuring that foreign countries provide their citizens with freedom and access to basic civil liberties and human rights. The problem with this is a fundamentally ethnocentric one that we have not yet encountered, as Earthlings, because the dominant species on this planet (from our perspective) communicates entirely within itself. We don't ask the dolphins about basic human rights, or the bonobos about their civil liberties. Mind you, it's recently been proven that dolphins actually kill baby porpoises--which are not in any kind of competition for food--for apparently no reason: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/earthnews/3323070/Killer-dolphins-baffle-marine-experts.html

and certain chimpanzees have also been found to develop forms of weaponry: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/02/22/AR2007022201007.html

What I'm trying to say is, what happens when we encounter a race that, for whatever reason, has fundamental differences in what it determines to be the basic rights of its citizens, people, etc? What do we do then?

It's something that Star Trek brought up, and something I vaguely remembered from some Star Wars novel where that obnoxious Bothan politician mentions that the New Republic is pretty racist because of the basic dichotomy they present: humans v. aliens. Whereas to any other species we are technically the aliens. But it works for now because humans, in a very bizarre way, like the feeling of being alone in the universe. We feel superior on our own planet (although, if you believe Douglas Adams, we should be pretty suspicious of the mice [and clearly the dolphins]) and believing ourselves to be the one, technologically advanced, intelligent species in existence makes it a lot easier to cope with how ethnocentric and conceited we really are. It reminds me, actually, of this scene in one of the Hitchhiker books, where Zaphod Beeblebrox enters the Total Perspective Vortex, which is supposed to reduce him to bits by the sheer vastness of infinity. Instead, he emerges feeling quite swell, as the Vortex confirmed what he knew all along: that he was the center of the universe.

When we talk about space colonization, too, most accounts of it have a perfectly natural extension of this idea, and it's kind of what Manifest Destiny (and Manifest Destiny) is all about. We are the center of the universe, and as such, when we decide to spread our gifts of civilization and humanity to other worlds, we are doing everybody else a colossal favor.

Reflection on the Martian Chronicles and Interactions

“Diplomacy is the art of saying "Nice doggie" until you can find a rock.”

“A diplomat is a person who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you actually look forward to the trip.”

Professor Jackson brought up the question of what would be a better course of action when interacting with extraterrestrial life forms: coexisting as states with rules and regulations or interacting on an individual basis? I believe both forms of interaction have merits and disadvantages. Concerning state to state interaction, for one, I feel that coexistence and the creation of boundaries rather than integration or openness is a scenario that is prone to conflict. When a wall is placed between two communities, one always wonders what is going on the other side of the fence and whether or not whatever is going on is potentially dangerous. There is also often the axiom “the grass is always greener on the other side” and sometimes jealously can arise too. Physical separation or the impeding of interaction also helps polarize differences and stigmas. Separation is also a statement that another group is not worthy enough or too “alien” to associate with, which in turn leads to hostilities. It is through interaction that understanding can be reached and stigmas dismantled. In many ways I also see the separation of the aliens and humans in "Speaker for the Dead" and "Xenocide" as reminiscent of segregation, which I believe has become commonly accepted as flawed and unethical. State negotiations however could provide benefits however. These benefits might include the state sanctioned preservation of alien rights, culture and special territories such as holy sites. It could also lead to rules concerning commerce and trade that might prevent a less economically developed species from being taken advantage of. States can also help spearhead unity efforts and maintain peace through military strength. However, some governments, or individuals within governments do not desire peace. For example, in Star Trek VI (this is a spoiler) individuals of Starfleet and the Klingon Empire conspire together in order to maintain a Cold War between the two factions.

“I know that my unity with all people cannot be destroyed by national boundaries and government orders.” - Tolstoy

Individual interactions can also provide benefits as well as risks. Interactions between individuals can create friendships and partnerships that can overcome gross generalizations and stigmas. It can also enable individuals who wish to learn and discover one another’s culture to do so. These interactions can also pave the way for mutually beneficial economic relationships. On the other hand, some individuals might commit crimes against one another. Within all races and species there are deviant beings and if one interaction turns foul, then it could set back relations between groups drastically.

“We're all in this together. “

“United we stand; divided we fall.”

I would argue that moderation would be ideal in inter-sentient interaction. To go to either extreme of only state or only individual interaction would be folly. I would also argue against too many formal divisions or any segregationist measures. Instead, the states should be proactive in promoting individual and cultural interactions. Whether it is through organizing a ping pong tournament or sending a ballet troupe to another world, states can help bridge cultural gaps and foster unity. Economic integration can also be conducive to preventing conflict and increasing interdependence. Besides this, through openness, universalization (an advanced form of globalization) can occur and perhaps lead to beings from different species being judged as an individual and not by their ascribed identities.

Substantive: Manifest Destiny

While I read through Stephenson, I'm making sure I'm remembering the scenes and themes that we picked up from The Martian Chronicles identified from last class. It might just be my own focus, but more and more again I see a salient theme of projection running through both Bradbury's and Stephenson's works. One of the overarching themes I see in Manifest Destiny is the realization of this driving force through different ages of American history. From the religiously motivated Puritans, to the politically motivated politicians leading up to the Civil War, each extends their own reason onto the land, and why it fulfill their own needs. I feel as though this attitude toward the land, the implication that it is maleable and free to be molded, is a frightening stance, and one of intense near-sightedness.

One prominent passage which comes to mind is when Stephenson recounts how individuals cared not for the Native Americans which inhabited the land, since they saw them as nomads, and essentially "wasting the land". In essence, these individuals are projecting their own thoughts and needs onto the territory which they wish to be theirs. The same theme runs through the early Puritan proclamation of America as a "new Israel" - once again, individuals (and in this case, a group) is projecting their desires and practices onto the land, morphing with time to extend more and more past the original intended boundaries of their religious country. In Bradbury's work, it's subtly implied that humans are projecting their own desires into Mars - there isn't a dedicated political motivation to the "conquest" as it is outlined in Manifest Destiny, but there is certainly an undeniable aspect to the discourse of humans in the book.

One huge theme in Stephenson is race relations too, specifically between the Native Americans, black slaves, and the white population. Bradbury seems to address this in a very different manner than Stephenson's expose of American history outlines. The Martian Chronicles includes a single chapter seemingly dedicated to this question - that space travel essentially gives the black community in this small town an escape. It's interesting to note that Stephenson seems to say the exact opposite - that, at least in the case of America, founding new lands leads to increased racial oppression, not freedom from it.

Substantive: Manifest Destiny

I suppose the best place to start, in terms of this class, with discussing Manifest Destiny is how Stephanson deals with the topic of race. In particular, he seems to perceive the dominant Anglo-Saxon idiom of the United States as an exclusionary force and one of the predominant forces that persisted in the expansion across the continent and eventually across the Pacific.

"Because 'the degraded Mexican-Spanish' were in no state to receive the 'virtues of the Anglo-Saxon race,' there could be no talk of any 'political union.'...The only feasible result of the war, therefore, was 'the annihilation' of Mexico 'as a nation.'" (p. 46)

Mind you, this was in 1847, so the blatantly racist overtones of this concept don't have the eerie post-Nazi feel these sentiments would have today. "This race is so far beneath us that they cannot be blessed with the wonders of our civilization--we must destroy them," is a terrifying thought, but it brought me back to thinking about Carl Schmitt. He said that war was never justified, that if it were just it would not be a war, and in thinking of that I noticed how this book shows just how politicized race could become in terms of expansion. In particular, this idea that America must annihilate Mexico as a nation, when Stephanson actually says that around this time the American South was highly resistant to the idea of considering any part of the United States itself as a nation. To the South, the freedom of the individual states took priority over any national concern, and so to see the American consciousness using this specific rhetoric is oddly disconcerting.

Stephanson also notes, that in this Anglo-Saxon American idiom, African Americans were often treated as aliens, in large part because they did not fit into this image of--let's face it, the WASP. Or, even more specifically, the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant (Puritan or Anglican) Male. He continuously reiterates the concept of a very black-or-white culture, that could not accommodate blending, and how as a result these subcultures, as well as the Creole French of Louisiana, were essentially subjugated because they could not fit into this conceit of white, American superiority.

I'm excited to think how we can apply this perspective to human-alien relations.