#55 = Volume 18, Part 3 = November 1991
Science Fiction and Postmodernism
Editorial Introduction: Postmodernism's SF/SF's
Postmodernism.
Are we late? Are we early? Can it be we're on time?
Linking postmodernism and SF is hardly a new thing; many of SF's most
sophisticated commentators have been doing it for the past 15 years. Roger
Luckhurst, in "Policing the Borders: Postmodernism and Science Fiction," shows
that theorists of postmodern genres have often taken up SF as a cause
célèbre to prove that the traditional boundaries of genre have collapsed
in the fluid new culture of Postmodernity. N. Katherine Hayles, in the recent
book on the chaos paradigm reviewed in this issue, turns to SF texts as
touchstones for understanding the transformation of Western culture into a
culture of chaos. Larry McCaffery, in his collection of interviews with SF
writers, also reviewed in this issue, argues that SF has become the pre-eminent
literary genre of the postmodern era, since it alone has the generic protocols
and thesaurus of themes to cope with the drastic transformations that technology
has wrought on life in the post-industrial West. Ambitious theorists like
Fredric Jameson, Jean Baudrillard, and Donna Haraway turn to SF topoi not only
as a major symptom of the postmodern condition, but as a body of privileged
allegories, the dream book of the age.
What is it about these two shadowy concepts, postmodernism and SF, that draws
them together? Postmodernism has been defined and de-defined enough times to
have taken on a shape, a silhouette—but it is the silhouette of an
enigmatically protean form. Every discipline seems to have a different focus,
drawing on different sources for support—sometimes texts, sometimes artworks,
sometimes empirical phenomena. SF has an advantage over most other disciplines
in that it has had something like a theory of postmodernism ingrained in its
futurism for many years. SF has observed with professional interest the
increase, at first gradual and then drastic, in the influence of
information/simulation technologies since World War II. The effect of the
sciences, technologies, and economies of information has been the emergence of a
new ideology and practice of power, what Haraway calls the "translation of the
world into a problem of coding." As the technologies of informational analysis,
high-speed computation, simulation, and communication become more sophisticated,
they increasingly determine widely different spheres of culture. One need only
contemplate the difference information technology has made in the past fifteen
years in science, entertainment, politics, personal communications,
international finance, and state policy-making and administration to see that it
has instigated an entirely new, complex orientation to the world.
In the culture of information, data-flow has an almost autonomous determining
character. The traditional connections of information with knowledge and meaning
have been loosened by the conscious scientific decision to separate quantitative
units of information from culturally relevant meaning, by the voracious appetite
of Western scientific culture for innovation, and by new economic and political
mechanisms of domination and capital formation in which the cynical control of
consciousness is of primary importance. In this milieu, traditional mechanisms
for selection eroded long ago, except for the self-perpetuating economy of
information itself. The increasing velocity of the feedback of information
technology into social life has transformed not only the rhythms of life, but
the very ideas of what can be imagined about the future and known about the
present. Where hierarchies of selection collapse, all sorts of boundaries break
down.
The collapse of traditional values hurts SF less than most forms of
literature. For SF has always thrived on the rejection of certain classical
"truths": for example, that human nature is unchangeable, that values can be
eternal, that social power is derived from nature. A genre born in oxymoron,
like the Chinese Stone Monkey, SF has always depended on drastic combinations of
incongruous categories presented as if they were truly capable of embodiment.
This tendency of SF has reached a pinnacle with postmodernism, articulated in J.G. Ballard's introduction to the French edition of Crash, the de
facto founding manifesto of postmodern SF: "I firmly believe that science
fiction, far from being an unimportant minor offshoot, in fact represents the
main literary tradition of the 20th century."
The transformation of the world into a technological project makes SF the
only form of literature capable of mirroring reality: "The main 'fact' of the
20th century is the concept of unlimited possibility. This predicate of science
and technology enshrines the notion of a moratorium on the past—the irrelevance
and even death of the past—and the limitless alternative is available in the
present."
With the catastrophic failure of traditional humanistic thought, SF has
rushed in with a treasury of powerful metaphors and icons capturing the reality
of insecure borders: the Female Man, xenogenesis, the cyborg, the simulacrum,
viral language, cyberspace, Mechs and Shapers, and many others.
The initial impulse for our special issue was a wish to translate two of
Baudrillard's essays on SF that originally appeared in Simulacres et
Simulations and then to invite thoughtful commentators to write reactions.
(Incredibly, Baudrillard's rich, provoking essays might still be unknown to
English readers were it not for for Jonathan Benison's lonely essay in Foundation
#52 [1984], "Jean Baudrillard and the Current State of SF," in which we first
encountered Baudrillard's provocations and which might thus be considered the
seed for this special issue of SFS.) Baudrillard's two essays elaborate his
science-fictional vision of the present as a world characterized by a radical
collapse of the distance between the real and its imaginary projections; this
implosion has resulted in the compression of the science-fictional imaginary
into everyday existence and in the evaporation of both SF and critical theory as
domains of the imagination autonomous from reality. Taking Crash as his
model, Baudrillard delves into the most violent of border violations, the erotic
collision of technology and the human body.
The commentators' responses demonstrate the great range of reactions not only
to Baudrillard's ideas, but to the hyperreal condition he describes. David
Porush casts Baudrillard as a High Priest of the Temple of Textuality crying
doom and despair because the "romance of direct cognition and neurophysiology"
(represented by Virtual Reality and Artificial Intelligence above all)
undermines Baudrillard's own critical alienation. For Brooks Landon, Baudrillard
induces the astonishing effect that comes with facing a new set of
world-conditions head on, with no place from which to judge. For Katherine
Hayles and Vivian Sobchack, in contrast, Baudrillard's intervention is
dangerously nihilistic. Sobchack argues that Baudrillard has obscenely misread
Ballard's fundamentally moral novel by extolling a fatal objectification of the
human body. Hayles, who also contests Baudrillard's reading of Crash, is
willing to grant Baudrillard respect as a writer of SF: although his account of
reality as a world of simulations is inaccurate as description, still he can
induce the condition by "systematically eliding the borders that mark the
difference between simulation and reality."
Most interesting to me personally is Ballard's short response, which was
originally part of our correspondence. It seems curious at first for the author
of Crash and its "Introduction" to claim that SF is a naive
entertainment genre under attack by postmodernist literary critics. Few SF
writers have created an oeuvre of such disturbing and sophisticated prose as
Ballard, few are less likely to be demolished by academic criticism. Yet the
writer who claimed that SF represented the main literary tradition of the
century now appears, as it were, to be regretting his words. Literary theory has
not had much effect on SF, I think, and what little there has been has not been
particularly pernicious. If SF is being killed, it is more likely to be at the
hands of the megacorporate incarnation of what Brecht called the capitalist dope
trade, described in detail by Cristina Sedgewick in "The Fork in the Road: Can
SF Survive in Postmodern, Megacorporate America?" (SFS #53), and by the
military culture of high-speed combat simulation. Ballard knows this; it is one
of his themes. His tirade against academic criticism and the concept of
postmodernism is, I believe, and attempt to protect a border: not between SF and
mainstream fiction, but between the fields of art and the locusts of
rationalistic analysis.
Baudrillard's essays are exercises in border violation—between technology
and the body, chance and order, theory and SF, and others. The responses try
either to restore the borders or to redraw them elsewhere. In this they set the
tone for the rest of the issue, for each of the essays takes as its theme one or
another of the putative barrier-breakdowns that characterize postmodern SF.
Luckhurst offers a critique of several literary theoretical claims that
postmodernity effaces the borders between SF and the "mainstream" as it
effaced the difference between high and low art. He shows that the radical
claimants discreetly restore those borders in the margins of their arguments,
usually conferring tacit authority on the mainstream at the expense of SF,
whereas the proper task if such criticism would be to question and examine the
meaning and authority of categories like "mainstream fiction."
Christopher Palmer's "Postmodernism and the Birth of the Author in Philip K.
Dick's Valis" argues subtly that the narrator/protagonist in Valis
represents a striking move in postmodernism's logic of transgressions. Where
Dick's earlier fiction had followed the protocol of distancing ethical dilemmas
in textuality, Valis violates the protocol. The novel acts out a
collision between a relentlessly self-proliferating, de-differentiating
textuality on the one hand and the embarrassingly concrete ethical presence of
Dick the author as the actual split-narrator/protagonist of the novel on the
other. Where textual simulations had seemed to kill the author in classic
postmodernist fashion, Dick transgresses against that "classicism" by bringing
in the author as a disconcerting, uncertain intrusion of the real.
In Scott Bukatman's "Postcards from the Posthuman Solar System," the
contested border zone is the interface between the organic human body and
technology. Bukatman identifies a mini-canon of SF texts that have proposed
versions of "posthuman" universes, where both the human body and the ideology
of humanism are violated, deconstructed, and transcended in new cyborg
combinations. David Porush explores what might be considered the enabling
conditions of such posthuman trajectories. In "Prigogine, Chaos, and
Contemporary Science Fiction," he details the ways some SF writers have used Prigogine's ideas about dynamical systems and dissipative structures to
represent the emergence of new, unpredicatable, complex orders out of disorder.
Finally, in my own essay on "The SF of Theory: Baudrillard and Haraway," I
argue that SF has ceased to be a genre of fiction per se, becoming
instead a mode of awareness about the world, a complex, hesitating orientation
toward the future. This SF condition requires a form of theoretical reflection
that breaks down the boundaries between theoretical discourse and SF, an
approach best exemplified by Baudrillard's and Haraway's cyborg politics.
The essays in this issue share a highly theoretical perspective, derived
mainly from poststructuralist literary theory. They are, in addition, almost
exclusively concerned with print embodiments of SF, and with fiction written by
Anglo-European men. The only reason for this is that things have just turned out
that way. It can be argued that the essence of both postmodernity and postmodern
SF is in non-print media, the simulation arts of film, video, computer graphics
and games, virtual reality, and computer simulation. Furthermore,
postmodernity's insistence on dissolving Master Narratives in favor of local
narratives implies that cyborg-feminist and race-concerned SF captures vital
aspects of postmodern SF that we have not explored here. Finally, the breakdown
on the boundaries between SF and non-SF has led to a problematic hybrid, called
the "slipstream" by Bruce Sterling and "specular SF" by Veronica Hollinger,
that is fast transforming the very "mainstream" that SF is often contrasted
with. We trust that in future issues of SFS we will be publishing explorations
of these areas as a matter of course.
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