Why Bother With Science Fiction In Today's Technological World?
What roles can Sci-Fi and Fantasy play in a world becoming more fantastical all the time?
In a world that’s becoming more fantastical and science
fictional by the day, it’s sometimes tempting to ask, what’s the point of
science fiction or fantasy? After all, these days we have in our pockets and in
our homes, devices that outstrip the projections of yesteryear science
fiction—heck, many of us practically own magic mirrors, and oracles we can ask
about the weather. But lots of us persist in writing and reading science
fiction and fantasy. Why?
The easy, and in my opinion mostly wrong, answer, is that
science fiction and fantasy both expand our imagination, and plant the seeds of
great advances. Science fiction primes us to go to the moon, or to Mars.
Science fiction builds in its readers and viewers a desire for pocket
communicators, for slabs of glass that hold all the books ever printed; fantasy
inculcates a desire for devices that just work, for a home that responds to our
will as if animated by djinni servants. And it’s true that science fiction and
fantasy have both prompted the creation of technological marvels, from human
triumphs like the moon shot to far more troubling fare, like, well, Palantir.
But I think it’s pretty arrogant of the genre to claim those
advances for itself. People dream and yearn and experiment regardless of what
genres of fiction they read growing up. The real power of science fiction and
fantasy, for me, lie in their use as tools to interpret the world around us,
and investigate aspects of our life that are too complex, too implicit, too
subtle to tease out with the limited tool set of realistic fiction.
For example: climate change is a
massive problem, distributed throughout the world, with myriad taproot causes
and enablers. Human society as a whole drives it, and human society as a whole
is already suffering from it, but climate change operates on a scale of time
and space that shares little with the constrained world of the realistic
literary novel. We could tell a story about a family whose farm failed because
of a drought—but the “realistic” novelist’s instinct would be to root the drama
in the characters, their triumphs and failures and conflicts, centering them
and leaving the changing climate as an inciting incident rather than the focus
of the story.
Fantasy and science fiction both
have their own ways of engaging with these enormous problems. Fantasy’s method
is, simply, to give these problems their proper scale and time and context. An
adversary operates on the level of gods, on the level of deep social structures
vastly distributed through time? No problem! Fantasy has a ready-made language
of gods and magic for the purpose. And, indeed, when Steinbeck attempted to
confront a more localized version of capital-reinforced climate change in The
Grapes of Wrath, he did it by deploying the fantastic: his vision of grand
monsters stalking the Oklahoma farm country, of the combine harvester as a kind
of dragon.
Science fiction uses similar
techniques, confronting the problems of the present either by extrapolation or
by recasting them in clearer language, often thanks to a change of perspective.
Systems of oppression often work in the real world by clothing themselves in
anxiety or uncertainty, so that perpetrators and bystanders can claim ignorance
and disbelieve the protests of the suffering. It’s often easier to understand a
critique of settler colonialism when Star Trek’s Major Kira discusses the
history of her home planet, than it is to see the world we live in with our own
eyes.
As with all shifted or projected
perspectives, though, there’s danger in them there hills: the writer may not
understand her subject, and the reader may not listen, or may read a story in a
way the writer didn’t intend. But the room these genres offer to play with
language and possibility allows them, at their height, to speak truth to the
concerns of the moment and of the age—and as the world becomes more
fantastical, the truth grows more important than ever.
See you all tomorrow.
Buh-bye.
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