Politics as seen though the lens of science-fiction

Politics as seen though the lens of science-fiction

Two classic novels appear to me to define very well the opposing political positions we generally refer to as “left-wing” and “right-wing” – or at least, the left and right-wing libertarian or anarchist positions. I’ll deal first with the left-wing position, as represented by “The Dispossessed” by Ursula K. Le Guin. This is at one level an adventure story about a middle-aged male academic travelling from a place that resembles more than anywhere else, the Soviet Union, to a place that may be rather like the West. A physicist, who has developed a theory for a tremendous technological breakthrough, must travel from his technologically backward home country to a technologically  more advanced land, in order to secure further funding, get his theory validated and to obtain some form of engineering assessment as to the commercial possibilities for his theory. Can it be translated into a device allowing instantaneous – faster-than-light – communication?

He travels from a culture where there are no possessions – a place where the words of John Lennon’s song “Imagine” have for centuries been worked out in practice. So much so that the language used in that country no longer has any possessive pronouns. There are no possessions, no way of expressing even the concept of ownership. Think of the handkerchief scene in “Brief Encounter: A man could not say “use my handkerchief” but would have to say “use the handkerchief in this pocket”. It is a collective land; a communal country, an association of anarchists who believe in the primacy of the community and not the state itself. Her anarchist country, after centuries of this, is not a repressive dictatorship, but neither is it a liberal democracy. It’s not the Soviet Union; it is better than that. You can see similar ideas in her earlier work “The left hand of darkness” which is set centuries later – the principle that collectivism need not automatically lead to tyranny. I am unconvinced; perhaps better and wiser people than I can convince me otherwise. In “The dispossessed” you see the idea that community can work – it is an almost “Bennian” (as in the late Tony Benn) vision, that the community is better than the individual, and that the community and the state are more or less one. Le Guin’s world is one where – at least to my eyes – they have avoided totalitarianism, the “tyranny of the majority” and the so-called “tragedy of the commons” – where the individual does not in general act in the interests of the community.

Personally I think it is a utopian vision. I take F.A Hayek’s view that collectivism does in fact ultimately lead to tyranny – it is literally “The road to serfdom” (the title of Hayek’s book on this subject). To paraphrase Hayek I think that for collectivist politics and economics to survive in the long term, coercion and ultimately naked force would be required.

The other side of this essay on politics as seen through the lens of science-fiction is a novel that outlines the right-wing libertarian or anarchist position. We look now at Robert A. Heinlein’s “The moon is a harsh mistress”.  This short novel, set in 2075 but written in the 1950’s, tells the story of a revolution at a private sector penal colony on the moon. Convicted felons are transported, serve their sentence, and are then left to live or die on the moon – there is no return to Earth. The company running the prison makes no allowance for the former convicts, and in theory at least, does not care whether they live or die. They do in fact live and prosper in a network of caves under the surface, growing grain and other foodstuffs for the colony and for the prison. In fact, they grow so much grain that the company exports it at a huge profit back down to a hungry and wildly overpopulated Earth.

These ex-convicts survive in a society where there is no state, no welfare, and no rule of law, except what the company requires or provides. Yet it is an orderly and civilised place. Could that even be possible? Is Heinlein utopian in suggesting that such an anarchic arrangement could survive and prosper?

It all works well enough until the company levies a tax too much, a rule too far, and provokes a revolution. That is merely adventure and need not concern us here. The part that interests me is the story of the private sector judge.

A visitor from Earth is caught doing something considered worthy of death (in fact his crime is trying to hit on a girl, in a place where women’s rights are held absolutely sacrosanct); he is caught in the act by local people and is about to be lynched. Our heroes see this, intervene, and cause this man to be taken to “Judge X’s courtroom”. The mob agrees to put up the money to have the man tried in this entirely unofficial private sector courtroom, and agree to abide by the decision of the judge. The man is tried and acquitted. Why does the mob abide by the judge’s decision? We in the west struggle even with the concept of a private sector judge – why would you trust such a judge? But then again why not? Why would you trust a public sector judge? From the Bible down to the present day we have any number of examples of untrustworthy judges. For much of human history and even today in many places, the fact that a judge was or is a public sector employee has been and would be no guarantee of honesty nor even of impartiality.

American “anarcho-capitalist” theoretical economist Murray Rothbard asked this question: Who provides any given good or service? If it is the state, why? Is it the job of the state to provide goods and services?  This is a fundamentally American question, a question perhaps rooted in the American experience on the “frontier” in the 17th to 19th centuries, where for long periods in many places, there was no state – but some people prospered. Heinlein – a contemporary of Rothbard – puts this question in story form. To the modern 21st century mind, particularly in the UK and Western Europe, to even ask this question is offensive. I remember getting into very hot water socially after publicly quoting Barry Goldwater’s infamous phrase “It is not the job of the state to make men moral”.

The view of the French philosopher Rosseau was that the people are children that should not be allowed out on their own and need their hand holding – by the state. It is such a commonplace view as to be effectively the norm. It is not a view I share. I take John Locke’s view that the state is only a necessary evil.  

Social mobility

I was reading an article in the Economist about social mobility in the USA, and reflecting on my social mobility. I came from dust, from nothing. I have come as far or further than anyone older than I  in either branch of my family, the first person in all the twentieth century to have attained to higher education – the first in many generations.  My dad and my mum were clever enough, but the opportunities were not afforded to them.  I have come further and higher than any before me in my family – and the reason is social mobility.  Social mobility in the 1980’s has got me where I am now.  I got A levels, got into a polytechnic, and got a job – all through either luck or just brains.  This illumines my politics and my beliefs.  It is why I have no patience with public school educated sons or daughters of privilege who have got to top jobs through background and education.  This is why I admire Mrs Thatcher – who got into Somerville on a scholarship, and that by luck rather than anything else.  It is why I can feel a bit chippy about many members of the front bench on both sides of the House – they are in the main, public school educated sons and daughters of privilege.  I’m no socialist, but am a firm believer in social mobility.  I believe opportunities should be available for people from the lower depths to rise to the top – the Clive James’s, the Norman Tebbits of this world.  It is why I have little patience or empathy with those who have a huge weight of generational expectation behind them – four generations a clergyman, or four generations an officer of the Royal Navy. I recall talking to the wife of one such officer at a party. What’s that like to be?

Collectivism and Christianity

I’m no collectivist and have always struggled with what I see as rampant collectivism in the charismatic church, particularly the house-church movement and New Frontiers.

We’re asked to make an offering publicly, i.e put money in a box at the front of church where everyone can see us. It is a right, good and noble offering the church is taking up. But why would I give money publicly unless I wanted there to be a public witness to the fact that I was doing so? Why would I be concerned what anyone else within the household of faith sees or thinks about my giving? Does it matter? I think it does. Jesus warns us in Matthew 6:3 that when we give, we should give in secret, not letting our right hand know what our left hand is doing.

So to me, giving money publicly – and being seen to do so – is a big no-no. That’s not Christianity – that’s collectivism.

But being against collectivism puts me on the back foot both in church and the wider world. People say I am selfish and care only about myself, merely because I argue that the individual is generally – by no means always – more important than the community.

“Collectivism can refer to any ideal, social, or political thought that puts emphasis on interdependence and the group above individuality or identity. Collectivists seek to be part of a greater whole–a larger scheme that is greater than the individual parts of that whole.”

And that is right and good – as Christians we are indeed part of a greater whole, and we should and do place emphasis on interdependence and the group. That is what small groups are about. But…

Individuals matter. Communities are made up of individuals, just as tables and chairs are made up of individual molecules. The properties of the materials used to make tables and chairs comes directly from the qualities of those molecules. And unless I am very much mistaken, we stand before God as individuals, and we were and are redeemed by Jesus Christ as individuals. There will be no communities judged at the Great White Throne – just individuals.

The importance of the individual over the community, over the collective, is what separates modern western cultures (i.e those arising since the Reformation) from the feudal societies they replaced, and what makes them more open to democracy, more open to freedom, stronger and more flexible that the Confucian cultures of the East (like China) and the Collectivist culture of Russia. All these cultures have strengths – but I believe the West is stronger, because of the importance of the individual.