It is an interesting idea that Carl Schmitt presents in determining how political groups have both friends and enemies. The state, as a political entity, is separate from humanity. Schmitt argues that "humanity as such cannot wage war because it has no enemy, at least not on this planet" (54). Instead he argues that wars waged for the sake of humanity are not really for humanity but instead for political powers. Though he doesn't really touch too much more on this throughout the rest of his book, I find it interesting that no human can be the enemy of another human. I had always assumed that human beings were primarily enemies of other human beings, and animals or even alien species that we have not yet discovered could not really be our enemies. They would instead be a threat, or a dangerous animal that we need to take precautions against. Instead here Schmitt argues that an enemy must be made inhuman in order to fight against them. This idea makes sense for large scale battles and wars, but in the case of the individual, I'm not sure that humanity cannot wage war upon itself.
Looking back at Ender's game in the battle school, the children fought against each other knowing full well that they were all a part of humanity. Even Peter Wiggen was a member of the human race even though his ideas and actions were twisted. Ender found it perfectly possible to fight against members of the children's army, granted it was not a real war. His relationship with the other members of the battle school was constant strife. The fights that took place between any of the human characters in the book was a struggle of human against human. When he kills the buggers, Ender thinks he is playing a game to beat out his teachers and Graff. Even in Dune Paul fights against the emperor as his enemy who is also a human. I would say that it is definitely possible for humanity to wage a war against itself, and that self can be an enemy. You do not need a foreign species to make up an enemy.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
When are children no longer children?
I would like to continue this theme that Anne and Russ were discussing earlier and expand upon that. When we talk about children, we think of age or a lack of mental or social development. For the children who went to battle school, they were young, very young in fact, but their minds were beyond the normal thinking level for someone their age. We assume, in modern society, that children should have time to be innocent and to enjoy their childhoods. However, in many areas around the world there are peoples and places that have no time for children. Children have to become adults quickly. I started thinking about this last night when I went to see the new film of Marie Antoinette. She was given away in marriage at age 14 and expected to produce an heir to the thrown of France within the following year. Granted, 14 is older than any of the children we experience in Ender's Game, but it proves the fact that the concept that children should remain innocent is a recent idea. While it is nice to think that we might have created a world in which our children and future generations might thrive, where they would not have to worry about working toward sustaining their families till a little later, this is not always the case.
I also do not think that war is the reason children have to grow up quickly. I think war makes growing up a sudden process, where a person becomes an adult or perishes from a lack of ability to survive. But for Ender and his friends, they become adults quickly without experiencing the harsh realities of war. While there is a general threat of attack from the Buggers, Ender grows up because he has a mind that is capable of understanding his situation in perspective to others. In the opening chapters, when Ender is surrounded by a group of bullies, Ender knows instinctively how to stop his opponents. This is a survival tactic, not someone who has lived through the devastation of war and been torn apart by it.
Children are only children because they are shielded away from how adults view their present situations. Responsibilities, even something as simple as chores, force children to grow up. This is why child geniuses exist amongst us. Because of their aptitude they are taught as an adult would be instructed and therefor learn extraordinarily quickly. If all children were forced into rigorous instruction at very young ages they too would likely come to have brilliant minds, if not quite as amazing as the prodigies. Age is not what defines children, it is responsibility and survivability that determine maturation into an adult.
I also do not think that war is the reason children have to grow up quickly. I think war makes growing up a sudden process, where a person becomes an adult or perishes from a lack of ability to survive. But for Ender and his friends, they become adults quickly without experiencing the harsh realities of war. While there is a general threat of attack from the Buggers, Ender grows up because he has a mind that is capable of understanding his situation in perspective to others. In the opening chapters, when Ender is surrounded by a group of bullies, Ender knows instinctively how to stop his opponents. This is a survival tactic, not someone who has lived through the devastation of war and been torn apart by it.
Children are only children because they are shielded away from how adults view their present situations. Responsibilities, even something as simple as chores, force children to grow up. This is why child geniuses exist amongst us. Because of their aptitude they are taught as an adult would be instructed and therefor learn extraordinarily quickly. If all children were forced into rigorous instruction at very young ages they too would likely come to have brilliant minds, if not quite as amazing as the prodigies. Age is not what defines children, it is responsibility and survivability that determine maturation into an adult.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
...more groupthink
When I was on looking at comments, I saw that my post from before somehow got messed up and did not post about half of what I wrote. My fault for not looking to make sure earlier.
Anyway, I will recreate what I remember saying..
THe theme of groupthink versus individual flexibility to adapt to the situation is a salient theme in both works. Since this was written during the Cold War, the obvious parallel is that Communism will falter because the individual's abilities reign supreme over the collective group abilities. The communal nature of the enemies is similiar (although not identical) to the Borg, where knowledge was all collective and centralized. The ability to think independently and reason is part of what differentiates us from animals (although I realize that computers challenge the reasoning aspect of this).
However, my mom actually had an interesting interpretation of this. She interpreted it as a lesson about micro-management, and how an organization will run much more efficiently if individual employees are allowed the flexibility to make decisions themselves without having it approved by a chain of command. This relates to much of what Thomas Friedman says in "The World Is Flat". The old heirarchical structures of corporations are breaking down because in part, they are not as efficient or productive as a more streamlined, level organizational structure. I work for Homeland Security, and the heirarchy is just ridiculous--it is so hard to get anything done, especially if you're young. For Card to have seen the falability in something like this well ahead of his time is very acute.
Anyway, I will recreate what I remember saying..
THe theme of groupthink versus individual flexibility to adapt to the situation is a salient theme in both works. Since this was written during the Cold War, the obvious parallel is that Communism will falter because the individual's abilities reign supreme over the collective group abilities. The communal nature of the enemies is similiar (although not identical) to the Borg, where knowledge was all collective and centralized. The ability to think independently and reason is part of what differentiates us from animals (although I realize that computers challenge the reasoning aspect of this).
However, my mom actually had an interesting interpretation of this. She interpreted it as a lesson about micro-management, and how an organization will run much more efficiently if individual employees are allowed the flexibility to make decisions themselves without having it approved by a chain of command. This relates to much of what Thomas Friedman says in "The World Is Flat". The old heirarchical structures of corporations are breaking down because in part, they are not as efficient or productive as a more streamlined, level organizational structure. I work for Homeland Security, and the heirarchy is just ridiculous--it is so hard to get anything done, especially if you're young. For Card to have seen the falability in something like this well ahead of his time is very acute.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Re: Ender, childhood, believability
Like THEPINKDOOM this is the theme that most stuck out to me throughout the book. I'm not sure how much Card just wanted us to suspend disbelief and accept the maturity with which these (very, very young) children are acting, accepting it at face value. I had trouble buying into it, and I'll tell you why.
It's not just that the kids are smart. Child geniuses and prodigies are not at all unheard-of. The problem is that these kids are acting with an awareness of concepts and ideas that can only be understood through experience. They don't arise out of hyperintellect or superior intuition. Peter's ability to track Russian troop movements through abnormal levels of activity on trains, for example. Ender's understanding of the intricacies of war strategy (yes, some of this is intuitive, but a lot of Ender's understanding seems to be of the sort that we would attribute to especially talented West Point graduates). These are debatable subjects, granted, but I feel like Card's portraying children who are 6 or 7 years of age in such a mature light, giving them an incredible understanding of language, and of completely adult themes, is sort of unbelievable.
I guess the biggest problem I have is that innocence goes right out of the window. The very phenomenon of childhood itself is disregarded. Almost all of the kids start out adults at the beginning, even though they've barely been toilet trained.
That said, I loved this book.
It's not just that the kids are smart. Child geniuses and prodigies are not at all unheard-of. The problem is that these kids are acting with an awareness of concepts and ideas that can only be understood through experience. They don't arise out of hyperintellect or superior intuition. Peter's ability to track Russian troop movements through abnormal levels of activity on trains, for example. Ender's understanding of the intricacies of war strategy (yes, some of this is intuitive, but a lot of Ender's understanding seems to be of the sort that we would attribute to especially talented West Point graduates). These are debatable subjects, granted, but I feel like Card's portraying children who are 6 or 7 years of age in such a mature light, giving them an incredible understanding of language, and of completely adult themes, is sort of unbelievable.
I guess the biggest problem I have is that innocence goes right out of the window. The very phenomenon of childhood itself is disregarded. Almost all of the kids start out adults at the beginning, even though they've barely been toilet trained.
That said, I loved this book.
Childhood
One of the things that has always fascinated me about Ender's Game is its portrayal of childhood. My copy of the book starts with an introduction by Orson Scott Card in which he contrasts the reaction of a gifted teacher ("Gifted children just don't talk like that. They just don't think like that.") to the reaction of a group of gifted students ("We are the Enders of today.")
I am inclined to agree with the students. Card depicts children for who they are, not for who adults think they are. Though it may seem unrealistic for 6 and 7-year-olds to be deadly serious about games in the Battleroom, the Battleroom is the only fictional creation. Think of any kid you've seen arguing about the rules of the game (say, hide-and-seek) and whether or not someone cheated. It seems childish to an adult, but that child is taking hide-and-seek as seriously as we would take our midterms.
Card also has some poignant things to say on the nature of childhood. A few times throughout the book, Ender takes some time to wonder what a "real" childhood would be like. He reads through old books and realizes his childhood isn't normal. On page 224, the narration says of Ender, "He was a soldier, and if anyone had asked him waht he wanted to be when he grew up, he wouldn't have known what they meant." After the war is over, and everyone is standing around wondering what they'll do next, the following exchange occurs (page 304):
"'We're kids,' said Petra. 'They'll probably make us go to school. It's a law. You have to go to school till you're seventeen.'
They all laughed at that. Laughed until tears streamed down their faces."
For me, these are some of the most poignant moments of the book. They show how war and stress and work can ruin the innocence of childhood and how fast children can grow into adults. It's not just an element to a work of fiction, either: in 2006 the UN estimates that more than 250,000 children are actively involved in armed conflict, some as young as nine (source). And though fighting in an army or militia is certainly the most dramatic way of forcing children to become adults, it's doubtful that the estimated 246 million children engaged in child labour, some as young as five (source), have retained that innocence of childhood that we so value.
Ender, along with Petra, Bean, Alai, Shen, and all the other children of the Battle School, can't really be considered children. And I think Card presents a completely accurate picture of how they play to beat the system - be the best and no one can ignore you, try to make the right friends in the right way and work to keep your enemies from hurting you. The way it's played out reflects a fictional setting and hyperintelligent characters; yet, I can relate to their struggles, and I'm sure most people in this honors class feel the same way.
I am inclined to agree with the students. Card depicts children for who they are, not for who adults think they are. Though it may seem unrealistic for 6 and 7-year-olds to be deadly serious about games in the Battleroom, the Battleroom is the only fictional creation. Think of any kid you've seen arguing about the rules of the game (say, hide-and-seek) and whether or not someone cheated. It seems childish to an adult, but that child is taking hide-and-seek as seriously as we would take our midterms.
Card also has some poignant things to say on the nature of childhood. A few times throughout the book, Ender takes some time to wonder what a "real" childhood would be like. He reads through old books and realizes his childhood isn't normal. On page 224, the narration says of Ender, "He was a soldier, and if anyone had asked him waht he wanted to be when he grew up, he wouldn't have known what they meant." After the war is over, and everyone is standing around wondering what they'll do next, the following exchange occurs (page 304):
"'We're kids,' said Petra. 'They'll probably make us go to school. It's a law. You have to go to school till you're seventeen.'
They all laughed at that. Laughed until tears streamed down their faces."
For me, these are some of the most poignant moments of the book. They show how war and stress and work can ruin the innocence of childhood and how fast children can grow into adults. It's not just an element to a work of fiction, either: in 2006 the UN estimates that more than 250,000 children are actively involved in armed conflict, some as young as nine (source). And though fighting in an army or militia is certainly the most dramatic way of forcing children to become adults, it's doubtful that the estimated 246 million children engaged in child labour, some as young as five (source), have retained that innocence of childhood that we so value.
Ender, along with Petra, Bean, Alai, Shen, and all the other children of the Battle School, can't really be considered children. And I think Card presents a completely accurate picture of how they play to beat the system - be the best and no one can ignore you, try to make the right friends in the right way and work to keep your enemies from hurting you. The way it's played out reflects a fictional setting and hyperintelligent characters; yet, I can relate to their struggles, and I'm sure most people in this honors class feel the same way.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Is it possible to have sci-fi without a superhero?P
I've realized, after the five or so books that we've read so far, that all of the books in a certain way focus on a super-human character. It's as if structurally they'd fall apart if they didn't have this element -- something that supercedes human limits, and perhaps provides human legitimacy for the fantastic heights that the novels' plots and themes always reach.
Paul, the Messiah and greatest human ever to live. Yod, the greatest cyborg ever built. Ender, the brightest boy, chosen from birth to lead his people to victory in a galactic war (wow, sounds sorta like another book we've read...). So on and so forth.
So why is this treatment necessary? It does sort of seem to be integral to science fiction, at least to the science fiction we've read. There's just something about the narrative structure.. I guess, as I said, it helps us to buy into all the scientifically fictitious stuff we read about, seeing it from the point of view of someone who as far exceeds our own limitations as the futuristic technology exceeds that of the present. Paul's probably the best example of this, the one that's made me think most about it (along with Ender). Paul is as epic as the story that weaves itself around him. We want to believe that a being such as Paul is possible, and this desire colors our willingness to buy into the world of Dune and Herbert's themes.
That's how it seems to me, at least.
Paul, the Messiah and greatest human ever to live. Yod, the greatest cyborg ever built. Ender, the brightest boy, chosen from birth to lead his people to victory in a galactic war (wow, sounds sorta like another book we've read...). So on and so forth.
So why is this treatment necessary? It does sort of seem to be integral to science fiction, at least to the science fiction we've read. There's just something about the narrative structure.. I guess, as I said, it helps us to buy into all the scientifically fictitious stuff we read about, seeing it from the point of view of someone who as far exceeds our own limitations as the futuristic technology exceeds that of the present. Paul's probably the best example of this, the one that's made me think most about it (along with Ender). Paul is as epic as the story that weaves itself around him. We want to believe that a being such as Paul is possible, and this desire colors our willingness to buy into the world of Dune and Herbert's themes.
That's how it seems to me, at least.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Creation and Ownership
One of the topics Piercy deals with is the connection between creation and ownership: women have the power to "create" children, but as Malkah points out, they have to let those children go; men, on the other hand, create machines, which they believe they have full control over no matter how long the machine exists or how much like a man he becomes.
However, despite the statement that mothers must relinquish control of their children when the children grow up, Shira's relationship with Josh and Ari seems to say that while children are still young, mothers have complete ownership. Shira's motives for the majority of the book revolve around her getting Ari back. It doesn't matter to Shira what Josh wants, or if Ari gets to spend any time with him, or even if Josh is killed: Ari belongs to Shira, and she MUST have him in her control. Nothing in Piercy's narrative condemns this attitude: when Josh is killed, Shira expresses some regret, but never does she stop to question if maybe Ari would be better off in someone else's control.
There is also a contrast between mothers' and fathers' rights visible in the relationship between Shira and Malkah and that of Gadi and Avram. In their adult lives, neither Shira nor Gadi want to come home - yet here the similiarities end. Malkah wants Shira back, but Avram is apprehensive of Gadi's return. Malkah and Shira have a positive relationship, while Avram and Gadi are constantly sparring. Finally, Shira chooses to stay in Tikva, while Gadi runs back to his former life as soon as the chance is offered.
Yet - Malkah isn't really Shira's mother, but her grandmother. Shira's mother Riva gave up the control that comes with ownership, choosing to leave her daughter in the control of her own mother, who she had resisted throughout her childhood (Malkah remembers Riva as a little girl, standing in the courtyard screaming "NO!" at the top of her lungs). What is Piercy saying here about the relationship between creation and ownership? As a mother, Riva created yet relinquished ownership to another.
Compared to humans, the relationships of Yod and Joseph to their creators are deceptively simple. They were created for a purpose, and follow that purpose at their creators' direction. Yet both learn and grow, and soon come to resent their creators, defying their will and intentions.
The only commonality I can see between all of the creators in He, She and It is their sense of responsibility for their creations, though fulfillment of that obligation ranges from Riva's leaving her daughter with her mother for safety, to Judah's and Avram's decisions to destroy their creations for the good of society. Anyone else have any other thoughts on what (if anything) Piercy is getting at?
However, despite the statement that mothers must relinquish control of their children when the children grow up, Shira's relationship with Josh and Ari seems to say that while children are still young, mothers have complete ownership. Shira's motives for the majority of the book revolve around her getting Ari back. It doesn't matter to Shira what Josh wants, or if Ari gets to spend any time with him, or even if Josh is killed: Ari belongs to Shira, and she MUST have him in her control. Nothing in Piercy's narrative condemns this attitude: when Josh is killed, Shira expresses some regret, but never does she stop to question if maybe Ari would be better off in someone else's control.
There is also a contrast between mothers' and fathers' rights visible in the relationship between Shira and Malkah and that of Gadi and Avram. In their adult lives, neither Shira nor Gadi want to come home - yet here the similiarities end. Malkah wants Shira back, but Avram is apprehensive of Gadi's return. Malkah and Shira have a positive relationship, while Avram and Gadi are constantly sparring. Finally, Shira chooses to stay in Tikva, while Gadi runs back to his former life as soon as the chance is offered.
Yet - Malkah isn't really Shira's mother, but her grandmother. Shira's mother Riva gave up the control that comes with ownership, choosing to leave her daughter in the control of her own mother, who she had resisted throughout her childhood (Malkah remembers Riva as a little girl, standing in the courtyard screaming "NO!" at the top of her lungs). What is Piercy saying here about the relationship between creation and ownership? As a mother, Riva created yet relinquished ownership to another.
Compared to humans, the relationships of Yod and Joseph to their creators are deceptively simple. They were created for a purpose, and follow that purpose at their creators' direction. Yet both learn and grow, and soon come to resent their creators, defying their will and intentions.
The only commonality I can see between all of the creators in He, She and It is their sense of responsibility for their creations, though fulfillment of that obligation ranges from Riva's leaving her daughter with her mother for safety, to Judah's and Avram's decisions to destroy their creations for the good of society. Anyone else have any other thoughts on what (if anything) Piercy is getting at?
Groupthink and pitfalls thereof
Starship Troopers and Ender's Game both argue that individual thought is better than group centered thought. The bugger enemies in both have a hive mentality with centralized control (hmmm, anyone find that suspicious? That both Ender's Game and the Heinlein novel that Starship Troopers is named after both have bugs as the bad guys? Hmmmm)
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