Agency; Inaction (In Action)

Authors of the "Golden Age" of sci-fi, such as Clarke and Asimov, often used their writing to question the origin and nature of humanity. Science fiction is often portrayed as a medium that presents tales of a distant future in order to induce awe or entertain. This is significant because the nature of humanity stays and will stay unchanged throughout the entirety of humanity's existence, from our inception to our extinction. They’re not tales of a distant future, they’re so much more than that. They’re a reflection on our quiddity, the essence of what makes us us.

To understand why sci-fi is so powerful, we have to establish some things about us as humans. We can think of man as the expression of agency in a sterile and deterministic system. Agency, as defined by the capacity for free will, is important because nothing in the system other than us as humans would have this agency or free will. Every single time a set of circumstances in this system comes to pass, it will always resolve in the same way. The nature of this system is deterministic. Under the subsequent deduction that from this there is no true randomness, the concept of randomness simply becomes “something independent” of a system. A machine built to flip a coin is not random; it has real variables that impact it, and given the same conditions, theoretically, it will always take the same result. This presents a challenge, because it is extremely difficult for us to measure, much less recreate the factors in a system on such a scale as the universe. It is very overlooked that when conducting an experiment, we can prove statistically that things are closely associated or correlated but not causally related. A p-value is almost never zero. There is always a chance that some independent unknown factor is causing the results of the empirical evidence. From this, we're left with the fact that causation can't be proven and we must conclude that probability is a concept based on solely predictive statistics. It’s not real! However, free will does exist, human nature is not predictable and furthermore is inconsequentially so! The neurons firing in a brain are not indicative of any determinism. Free will creates choice. Free will creates chance. This might seem weird to us because we live with it, but it's unique. Chance wouldn't exist without us. Man is unnatural in a natural system. Man is independent of this system, volatile, and truly random. This leads to extreme ethical and existential dilemmas, forcing us to question why we're here, what we're doing, and what our nature is. In our deterministic system, man, simply by virtue of existing as an agent of will, introduces chance and consciousness, thus disturbing the system. The most pressing question under this worldview is “What is our role and responsibility within nature?” Inside of creation, man feels alien, with dominion over all but without knowledge of how to exercise it. We are actors in a system, causing ripples, but we're often clueless about how the system truly interacts, and it's doubtful we'll ever fully understand it. Without knowledge of the consequences of our actions, we're just flailing about, spinning our wheels, powerless and helpless to exert our will.

Realizing this and taking this perspective leads to the conclusion that man's mortality, combined with agency, causes the tribe of man, all of us, to be an outsider, an invasive species on a cosmic scale. While the assumption might be that this is a major shortcoming of our species, it is this very nature that causes us to be great. It is only through our lack of knowledge that we pursue it, constantly stumbling as a baby learning to walk. We see this recurring theme in almost any classic sci fi work. In “The Last Question,” Asimov presents man as conquering the universe until there is nothing left and the stars burn out, leaving everything to consolidate and start anew. This is strangely reminiscent of a real world scenario. In Yellowstone, we tried to control the environment and it backfired massively and disrupted the ecosystem for decades. The irony lies in the fact that we attempted to control the environment because we were afraid that our lack of control would screw it up. The only winning move is not to play, and yet we strive, and yet we love, and yet we win. The classic works show that. They present the indomitable human spirit exerting its presence through the stars as we stumble and fall and learn to walk and run among galaxies and new life. Classic science fiction finds its voice in our insecurity. We are afraid of the consequences of our actions and our ambition because we cannot know or control them, but it is this lack of knowledge that drives our hunger to pursue more. It is through the admission of our limitations, the acceptance of our role as estranged in a lonely universe, that classic science fiction finds its power to probe the core of the human condition, questioning not just what it means to be human, but how to act as human in a system that defies us.

In the aftermath of the Second World War science fiction emerged as an escape, a medium primarily influenced by the postwar era's rapid and dramatic technological advancements and social upheaval. The introduction of the atom bomb brought about a realization of both humanity’s capacity for achievement and annihilation, symbolizing a force that could either propel humanity to new heights or lead to its ultimate downfall. This duality of destruction and salvation became a recurring theme in science fiction narratives, reflecting the collective anxiety and awe of an era poised on the brink of either utopia or apocalypse.

The knowledge of the Holocaust and the terrible capabilities of mankind added another layer to this narrative. It painted a stark picture of what could happen when power is wielded without moral restraint. The looming specter of the Cold War further complicated this picture, introducing a sense of imminent dread and a race against time. Science, which had long been viewed as a beacon of progress and enlightenment, now bore an ominous shadow, hinting at the potential for unprecedented disaster.

In this charged atmosphere, science fiction transcended its traditional role as mere entertainment. It became a mirror, reflecting society's deepest fears and highest aspirations. The stories of this time often oscillated between utopian visions of the future, where technology solved all of humanity's problems, and dystopian warnings, cautioning against the unbridled pursuit of progress without ethical consideration. This narrative tension is evident in works like Arthur C. Clarke's “The Star” and Isaac Asimov's “The Last Question.”

Clarke and Asimov, among others, used the expansive canvas of science fiction to explore themes far beyond the immediate concerns of their time. They abstracted the pressing issues of their era - nuclear war, environmental degradation, ethical use of technology - into stories set in distant futures or on alien worlds. This abstraction allowed for a more objective critique of these issues, presenting them in a context stripped of contemporary political and social biases. In doing so, science fiction became a powerful tool for societal critique, providing a safe space to question and explore the impact of human actions and decisions.

The genre's ability to abstract and transpose real-world problems into alien or future contexts allows for a more objective examination of these issues, making them approachable without the baggage of contemporary biases and emotions. Arthur C. Clarke’s “The Star” and Isaac Asimov’s “The Last Question” are exemplary in this regard In “The Star,” Clarke uses the backdrop of space exploration to delve into the conflict between science and religion, a theme resonant with post-war existential queries. The story presents a Jesuit priest, also an astrophysicist, grappling with a profound discovery that challenges his faith: the remnants of a destroyed civilization. Clarke writes, “It was the mark of a dead world, of a dead sun, and the end of all things” (Clarke, 1955). This line, while literally describing a cosmic event, subtly questions the consequences of human actions compared to the role of divine providence. The poignant line, "There can be no reasonable doubt: the ancient mystery is solved at last. Yet, oh God, there were so many stars you could have used. What was the need to give these people to the fire, that the symbol of their passing might shine above Bethlehem?" (Clarke, "The Star") is so powerful because it masterfully relates this horrid event to the birth of Jesus Christ, which in Christianity signaled the end of death itself. By setting this contemplation in the realm of the cosmos, Clarke not only enhances the grandeur of the narrative but also enables a subtle examination of the human condition and our understanding of the divine. The narrative can also be interpreted as abstracting the moral and ethical dilemmas of the Cold War era – the fear of annihilation and the questioning of moral structures – into a cosmic event, making the reader ponder the balance between scientific advancement and moral responsibility.

Similarly, Asimov's "The Last Question" uses the theme of entropy and the quest for ultimate knowledge to mirror the societal concerns about technological progression and its implications. The story critiques the human propensity to seek control over nature and destiny, an allegory for the arms race and the pursuit of unbridled technological power during the Cold War. By abstracting these concerns into a cosmic scale, Asimov invites readers to reflect on the long-term consequences of human actions and the philosophical implications of scientific exploration.

Both Clarke and Asimov, through their respective works, exemplify how science fiction serves as a mirror, reflecting and critiquing societal issues. By distancing these issues from their immediate, real-world contexts, the genre invites a more introspective and critical examination, free from the direct confrontations that often accompany discussions on sensitive topics like race, religion, and power dynamics. This unique capacity of science fiction to explore and critique societal issues through abstraction sets the stage for its engagement with another critical theme of the era: environmentalism.

In recent history, our understanding of environmentalism and the delicate balance of nature has been significantly shaped by real-world events and scientific observations. This is seen in the case of Yellowstone National Park. The attempted reintroduction of wolves into Yellowstone serves as a powerful illustration of the intricate interplay within natural ecosystems. Systems that we as humans are extremely inept at. This initiative, aimed at controlling deer populations, backfired catastrophically. It underscored the limitations of our understanding and control over such systems, mirroring the broader theme in science fiction of humanity grappling with the consequences of its actions.

The Yellowstone scenario is emblematic of the broader environmental challenges faced by humanity. Just as science fiction often explores the repercussions of human actions in fictional worlds, the reintroduction of wolves in Yellowstone reflects the real-world complexities of environmental management. The well-intentioned efforts to manage the park’s ecosystem led to a series of ecological changes, some anticipated and others surprising. This situation mirrors the themes of classic science fiction where human actions, often driven by a desire to control or improve, result in unforeseen and sometimes unwelcome outcomes.

This interplay between intention and consequence in environmental management is reminiscent of the broader narrative seen in science fiction. Just as characters in these stories must navigate the unforeseen repercussions of their actions in distant galaxies or futuristic societies, so too must we confront the complex and often unpredictable results of our environmental interventions. The Yellowstone example serves as a real-world illustration of the delicate balance of nature and the unintended consequences that can arise from even well-meaning human actions. It is a testament to the ongoing struggle to understand and responsibly interact with our natural world, a theme that resonates deeply with the cautionary tales of classic science fiction.

works cited

• Asimov, Isaac. The Best of Isaac Asimov. New York, Ballantine Books, 1982.
• Clarke, Arthur C, and Angus Wells. The Best of Arthur C. Clarke / Vol.1: 1937-1955. London, Sidgwick And Jackson, 1977.