In this episode of Back in the USSR (FULL SHOW), Siegfried performs the classic anti-fascist poem "To Those Born After" by Bertolt Brecht (note that the linked version is not the same translation that I used on the show, but very similar), Peter Barnes' one-act play "The Preacher" about Jacques Roux, one of the most radical figures of the French Revolution and an early socialist, as well as some of his own poetry and the stories behind it.
Monday 30 September 2019
Monday 23 September 2019
Writing Radical Fiction Part 2
You’re listening to Back in the USSR on CFRU 93.3 FM,
I am Siegfried. And welcome comrades and
friends to our second episode about writing radical fiction. Last week I talked about my own experience
being a communist and a fiction writer in the fantasy genre and a bit about how
challenging that is, given how conservative a genre fantasy has historically
been and in many ways continues to be with regard to contemporary examples like
Game of Thrones. I talked about how
fantasy traditionally concerns itself with the restoration of an idealized
past, the “return of king”, the revival of an idealized feudal order where
everything is in its right place, a convention that even more radical fantasy
writers like Ursula Le Guin and Michael Moorcock had difficulty getting
beyond. And I also talked about the
inspiration that I got from the communist playwright Bertolt Brecht, and how
audiences can be made more receptive to radical ideas when they are expressed
in a way that breaks people out of their immersion in every day realities and
forces them to think critically about what they are reading or viewing. But, most importantly, I talked about the
need to place working class and oppressed people, rather than aristocrats and
elites, at the center of fantasy and science-fiction stories. And I want to talk a little more about why
that’s important and why I come at writing in this way.
First, I want to stress the importance of history and
of historical memory in the present moment.
On Friday I attended the Guelph Climate Strike event, I marched with
students from the University of Guelph down to city hall and witnessed this
extraordinary coming together around the issue of climate change. Over five hundred people showed up, there
were banners, megaphones and speeches.
People seemed to recognize that capitalism was the problem and the real
force behind climate change and the global environmental crisis that we’re now
in. But I couldn’t help but notice the
literally night and day distinctions between the speeches made about climate
change by indigenous people on one hand and white settlers on the other. Those speakers who were white talked
overwhelmingly about the future and the need to save future generations from
the effects of climate change. They
didn’t talk about the past, history, their ancestors or historical
experience. Indigenous people did. The indigenous people who spoke, including a
good friend of mine, drew a clear line between the past and the present and the
future. They connected the struggles of
their ancestors against residential schools and colonial genocide with the
present struggles against pipelines and with the well-being of future
generations. And because they understood
and were connected with their past, their understanding of the future was a
whole lot clearer than that of the white speakers, many of whom were engaging
in activism for the very first time and who were inspired to become activists,
not by the example of indigenous land defenders who have been fighting to
protect the very survival of their people, but by this Swedish girl Greta
Thundberg whose been all over the news lately.
Their hearts are definitely in the right place and I’m glad they’re
becoming activists now, but they still have a lot to learn.
Class struggles and struggles against injustice and oppression
never spring from nowhere. They always
have a history in previous struggles that shape the conditions in which new
struggles emerge. And people identify
with past struggles based on their own lived experience, material conditions of
their lives, and their connection with previous generations. Indigenous people have that connection, black
people have that connection, Latino people have that connection, so do people
in the formerly colonized countries of Africa and Asia, and even European
peoples like the Irish have that connection that runs deep within their
culture. But white North Americans
typically do not. White North Americans
who paid “the price of the ticket” as James Baldwin said, and who gave up their
roots what is now called Europe in order to become “white”, to be granted a
privileged position in a colonial society and to bind up their fate with the
settler-colonial project based on genocide and slavery. Effectively they went from being people
rooted in a time and place to being rootless tools and weapons of empire. White people are an artificial, manufactured
creation of empire rather than an organic society and culture, and it
shows. I would recommend people read
Theodore W. Allen’s brilliant book “The Invention of the White Race” if they
want to understand more about how and why this took place: how impoverished
emigres from numerous European countries were transformed into footsoldiers in
a genocidal war to make the North American continent “safe for capitalism” from
sea to shining sea. That’s not to say
that there hasn’t been a history and tradition of class struggle in North
America among people of European descent, of course there has, but it’s much
easier to convince a rootless white person, who has been taught to blame
non-white people for all their problems, to forget about that history than it
is to convince an Irish person living on their own ancestral land in a country
that’s still partially colonized by Britain.
This is especially true if said white person leads a cushy life in a
suburb built on stolen native land on the outskirts of Guelph Ontario, having
reaped the benefits of the post-war boom that allowed them to believe that
capitalism was good and humane, and who haven’t known real hardship or struggle
since their grandparents’ generation in the 30s and 40s…and they’re probably
not all that familiar with that history either.
I grew up in a suburb like that on the western edge of
Guelph. I was far-removed from the ills
of the world as a kid. And, apart from
some difficulties fitting in at school, I had a pretty amazing childhood. I had to learn about the true state of the
world from other people. People like Mrs
Baker, my 8th grade homeroom teacher, who got in a lot of trouble
when she taught my class about sweatshop labor and Third World poverty. People like Mr Walker, an aboriginal Mohawk
man, and a Marxist, who unapologetically taught the real colonial history of
Canada and of European imperialism in my high school history and civics
classes. Or Professor Eidlin, my thesis
advisor in university, who taught me to question established narratives and to
always ask “why”. Those people and many
more besides brought me to the point where I could become a communist in an
anti-communist society, where I could become an ally of indigenous peoples in
the context of settler-colonialism, and where I could come to grips with the
cruel realities of capitalism and imperialism.
So when I write fantasy novels. When I write this literature. It’s coming from that lived experience and from those people who influenced me. The same holds true for any writer, but I think I can safely say that my experience differs from that of many fantasy writers who are content to churn out stories that glorify kings and empires. I’m more interested in the history and experience of those who fight against kings and empires, whether in a fictional world or in the real world. I want to tell their stories and have that mean something. For me it’s part of a broader struggle for justice worldwide, not a hobby. It’s something that I choose to do. For the same reason that I choose to teach my Chinese students about the real history of settler-colonialism and genocide in Canada. Given what I’ve learned and what I’ve experienced, writing for me cannot be a diversion or an escape, unlike some of the fantasy writers I recently encountered at the Eden Mills Writer’s Festival. And writing can’t just be about warning people and painting gruesome pictures of dystopian futures and lamenting at how bad everything is. Writings is a part of the fight for liberation, for justice and emancipation. It’s about confronting and exposing the destructive forces of imperialism, colonialism and capitalism – even in a fictional format. It’s about expressing solidarity with those who fight against these forces all over the world. And it’s about showing that those forces can be defeated and that something better, regardless of its imperfections, can be built.
I believe it is my responsibility, given my situation
at this crisis point in human history, to express the class struggle through
whatever medium I can. Including the
fantasy genre. Like I said, it’s hard
for people who come from a background like mine to understand the way the world
really works, how horrific it is, and why so many risk their lives every day
fighting for a livable future along with justice for their ancestors. Maybe by setting these kinds of struggles in
a fictional setting, by setting my stories just far enough beyond the real
world to make readers let down their guard for me but still close enough to
drive the message home, however uncomfortable it might be, I can make it easier
for them to open their eyes.
Handsome Furs - Serve the People
Handsome Furs - Serve the People
So I’m working on a novel right now that I intend to
make into a trilogy. This trilogy will
explore the revolutionary birth of a new nation, a republic, out of the ashes
of an ancient and oppressive empire. The
setting of this trilogy is a region known as the Thousand Cities, which, like
Medieval Italy and Germany, is divided into many petty warring states, principalities,
duchies, areas ruled by the Church and so on.
This land was once the heart of the Empire of the Five Seals, a
theocratic empire ruled by a powerful Church and an emperor claiming divine
right, before it’s collapse amid civil war almost two centuries before the
events of the trilogy take place. Since
then the land has been divided between rival lords, while the Church is trying
to reassert itself through a bloody Inquisition, and foreign empires compete
for influence and resources. The
protagonists of the trilogy will thus have to face the brutalities of feudalism
and capitalism alike in order to create a new society that will give the people
of this land a future. These heroes will
not be perfect. They will not be lost
messiahs or chosen ones. They will have
all the hang-ups that come from growing up in a highly oppressive and
exploitative society. Thus some
revolutionaries will have trouble treating women as equals, or respecting those
who come from a lower class background, or from a marginalized or oppressed
nationality or a persecuted religious group.
It is only through hard experience in the face of terrible enemies that
they will learn to walk a new path. And many
of them will not survive the journey.
So, yes, main characters will die in my books, no question. I mean read Edgar Snow’s “Red Star Over China”
if you want to know how dangerous trying to build a new society is in the face
of imperialism and entrenched class hierarchies. Read about the beginnings of the Cuban
Revolution and how few of the rebel fighters who traveled with Fidel Castro on
the Granma lived to see the revolution succeed in 1959. Spartacus’s slave rebellion against Ancient
Rome. There is nothing easy about making
real change in an oppressive society that has become unlivable for so many of
its people. People fight and sacrifice against
immense odds because the situation has become intolerable and they succeed when
they have the organization and vision to succeed – and that doesn’t emerge
overnight. Successful revolutions only
come about after a long series of failed attempts, failed organizations, failed
ideas. They only come about after a
history of struggle that then builds to a point where the continuity of history
is broken and something new and radical can emerge. That’s the truth of the matter, and I’ve
never seen it explored in a single fantasy genre story, not even once. Science-fiction comes closer, but even there
I haven’t seen a story that would do justice to how revolutions actually happen
and how people actually liberate themselves.
For revolution to be possible, the normal cycle of
oppression in society has to be broken.
Medieval peasants rose up in rebellion more than we were ever taught in
school, but their struggles rarely developed coherent alternatives to the
existing state of things in a society where feudal lords lived on the backs of
multitudes of serfs. Fatalistic
attitudes were common in a society where many peasants would never see their
thirtieth birthday and such attitudes were promoted by elites in Church and
State who wanted the peasants to “know their place” and accept their misery as being
part of some divine plan. I mean listen
to this song by the doom metal band Khemmis, “A Conversation with Death”. It’s a metal version of an old Appalachian
dirge which shares a lot of features, themes and imagery with medieval English
songs. And the people of Appalachia,
along with the people of Quebec and Acadia are about the only white people in
North America with real traditions of resistance as marginalized and oppressed
nations. So the “Hillbillys” of
Appalachia still sing English peasant songs from the 1300s. Just listen to the lyrics here:
Khemmis – A Conversation with Death
You’re listening to Back in the USSR. Appalachia, the mountainous region of what is
now the eastern U.S. that produced those lyrics, has a unique history. Not only did early poor white settlers flee
there when the lowlands of the southern U.S. were taken over by cotton
plantations, but escaped black slaves fled there and founded whole Maroon communities
in the back country. There was also a
lot of intermarriage with local indigenous peoples like the Cherokee. Deserters from the Confederate Army even fled
there during the American Civil War. And
the resulting marginalized rural peasant communities in Appalachia fought back
when the land speculators, railroad barons and coal mining barons moved into
the hill country in the 19th Century and that resistance continues to
the present in places like West Virginia,
where they even stood up against the US Army.
All this produced quite a unique culture that has often been denigrated
as “in-bred” and slandered in many of the same ways that America has historical
denigrated indigenous people as backward savages, and even as cannibals. There are multiple horror stories and even
Hollywood movies portraying “hillbillys” as cannibals and that goes back to the
days when Appalachians were attacked as having “gone indian” because of their
way of life – which didn’t fit into the way people of European descent were “supposed”
to behave. So when poor Appalachians
came to Chicago in the 1960s seeking work, it’s really no surprise that they
were the mainstay of white support for the Black Panthers and for Fred Hampton’s
“Rainbow Coalition”, even forming radical groups like the “Young Patriots” that
stood in solidarity with the African-American freedom struggle and made common
cause with them against the capitalist state in America. And that’s the point I really want to make
here. These historically marginalized
and oppressed people, with a real experience of resisting established authority
in the name of survival, even if they also have fatalistic attitudes toward the
world around them, can embrace revolutionary ideas when they see the potential
for real change, and that’s a very powerful thing. People understand where they are now, they
see where they want to go, and they develop the tools and the organizational
means to get there together.
Real heroes are made when people wake up like
this. But they’re never alone. Real heroes are never alone, they’re always
part of something greater than themselves, always part of a real movement of
people that carries them along and propels them to do the things that they do. That’s why Fred Hampton of the Black Panthers was such a hero. He moved with
the people. That’s why Fidel Castro was
such a hero. That’s why Thomas Sankara,
who led a revolution in West Africa in 1983 that took a former French colony
and re-named it Burkina Faso “The Land of Upright Men”, was such a hero. That’s the kind of hero I want to see in the
novels I read. Including fantasy and
sci-fi novels. And I’m just not seeing
it. That has to change. I want heroes that serve the people. And I think, just like philosophers, the job
of writers of fiction in this day and age is to interpret the world as a means
of transforming it. Just as Marx
said. Fantasy genre writers are not
removed from that. They too need to play
a progressive role in history. They too
need to stand upright.
Marcel Cartier – Standing Upright
Monday 16 September 2019
Writing Radical Fiction Part 1
Now, that understanding of the world forms a major
part of who I am, otherwise I wouldn’t be here doing this show. And naturally it’s going to affect the
different aspects of my life: the people I associate with, the organizations I’m
part of, the interests I have, the books I read, and especially what I choose
to write. I am a writer. I am currently working on my first novel and,
although it may come as a surprise to some of you, that novel is dark fantasy
and I write mainly within the fantasy genre.
The reason that might come as a surprise is because the broad categories
of revolutionary and fantasy nerd have been rarely known to mix. But, nevertheless, I’m living proof that it
can and does happen.
Another reason why people might be surprised that a
guy like me would write fantasy is that fantasy has traditionally been a very
conservative genre. It effectively
originated in the European fairy tales and romantic fiction of the early 19th
Century which explicitly rejected the societal upheaval of the Industrial
Revolution and painted an idealized, pastoral picture of a pre-modern medieval
world in which everyone was happy, everyone knew their place, kings and queens
were benevolent, the lines between good and evil were clearly defined and
everything was, in a word, “simpler”.
Does any of that sound familiar? Right-wing political rhetoric has remained
remarkably consistent in many ways over the past few hundred years. Of course there’s no room in J.R.R. Tolkien,
or C.S. Lewis, or Lord Dunsany, or Arthur Machin for the downtrodden peasant, or
the exploited worker, or the slave fighting for freedom, or the colonized
person fighting for liberation, or the woman fighting for control of her own
body, or anyone who is gay, queer, lesbian, trans etc. And frankly there’s also
no room for the real history of medieval Europe in the extremely Eurocentric fantasy
worlds created by these authors. In
short, fantasy emerged as a kind of right-wing literary backlash against
progressive change.
Of course fantasy hasn’t stayed the same. 21st Century fantasy is far more
diverse and less confined than it was in the 19th and early 20th
centuries, but a lot of the central themes remain. You’ll notice that Game of Thrones is not
about revolutionary change or the creation of a new society in the place of a
thoroughly oppressive and rotten feudal order that is tearing itself apart and
threatening to take everyone down with it.
No, it’s ultimately about restoring the “rightful” rulers of Westeros,
House Targaryen, to the Iron Throne in King’s Landing. Just as in Tolkien's “The Return of the King”,
the “true king” is going to come back and restore order and make everything
right again. A very conservative message,
even if Dany Targaryen, “the mother of dragons”, is a woman, unlike Aragorn. Even when progressive writers, who really
want to push the envelope, write fantasy they can fall into a similar
pattern. I mean Ursula La Guin’s
Earthsea trilogy, even though she does things like make the main inhabitants of
her world black and tries to move away from certain Eurocentric themes, is
ultimately about the restoration of a monarchy through the efforts of the exceptional
young wizard, Ged.
This conservative theme of restoration and the
idealization of feudalism, which to give George R.R. Martin credit he does at least
expose some of feudalism’s brutalities, is what the British fantasy-writer
Michael Moorcock challenged in the 1960s, identifying it with Tory-style
politics. Of course Tolkien and C.S.
Lewis were British Tories as well as hardcore Christians, and, like Lord
Dunsany before them, were supporters of the British Empire. But Moorcock’s response to this, and authors like
Neil Gaiman have largely followed his lead on this, was existential experience rather
than class struggle. His fantasy worlds
are far more morally ambiguous, his heroes are more dynamic and they’re more
like social critics as they move through the flawed, imperfect and even
horrific societies they inhabit, which includes the UK under Margaret Thatcher
by the way. But, while Moorcock isn’t
interested in restoration or indulging in conservative fantasies about an
idealized past that never was, he also doesn’t allow room for radical
change. I’ve read quite a lot of his
work recently, especially his short stories, and they’re all about the
experience of a central character. There’s
no collective action, no mobilization of oppressed people to change their
circumstances, the people don’t organize to fight back against elites and
exploiters. The stories are all very
individualistic and personal. And that
to me is the notable characteristic of fantasy writers that have challenged the
dominant narrative in the genre, they challenge the conservative grand
narratives about “the return of the king”, not by building new narratives but by
retreating into individual personal experience.
That’s not enough. And I think
this clip from the beginning of Michael Parenti’s talk “Rambo and the Swarthy
Hordes” about Hollywood propaganda is enough to explain why Moorcock’s position
is inadequate:
Michael Parenti – “Rambo and the Swarthy Hordes”
Everything Michael Parenti talks about there is present
in the literary world as well, and needs to be challenged just as forcefully. I grew up on Tolkien, “The Hobbit”, “The Lord
of the Rings”, even “The Silmarillion”. I
even have a copy of “The Atlas of Middle Earth”. I was into fantasy long before I became a
communist. But now that I am a communist
and a budding fantasy writer, I had to decide what my approach would be to this
traditionally conservative literary genre.
How to I deal with the conventions of the genre while remaining true to
myself and the socialist ideological and moral framework that I’ve committed
myself to? It was something I really had think hard about, even before I started
writing my current novel back in 2016. I
ended up taking a lot of inspiration from the German communist poet and
playwright, Bertolt Brecht and came to understand that a lot of his ideas about
plays could be applied to writing fantasy – albeit in different ways. I ended up writing an essay to myself, entitled
“Take the Fight to Them”, in an effort to clarify my position on being a
radical fantasy writer and what that means.
It starts out with a quote from George Habash, the
founder of the Marxist-Leninist organization The Popular Front for the
Liberation of Palestine, which has long struggled for the self-determination of
the Palestinian people against the settler-colonial state of Israel.
“In today’s world no one is innocent, no one a
neutral. A man is either with the oppressed or he is with the oppressors. He
who takes no interest in politics gives his blessing to the prevailing order,
that of the ruling classes and exploiting forces.”
This, in a nutshell, is the approach I take to writing
fantasy novels. Even
in the most gaudy fantasy world or far-future society, dialectics remain and
the battle between exploiters and exploited continues. Fantasy must not be about escapism. No small imaginary world or idealistic mental
playground can protect you from the reality of class struggle, and the
philosophy of “Take the fight to them” aims to demolish all of these escapist
cul-de-sacs fostered by advanced capitalism in this digital age of endless
diversions and neverending barrages of propaganda. Literature should inspire people to confront
harsh and oppressive realities together rather than retreat from them alone. Only in this way can the crippling
atomization of life under advanced capitalism be overcome and solidarity and
collective empowerment constructed upon strong foundations that the capitalist
state cannot destroy. Therefore the
class struggle must be brought into every medium of expression, every venue,
every genre of literature, music, film, theatre, even video games. The audience must be linked with real world
struggles and not cut off from them, and this was and remains central to the
radical literary theory of “Alienation” developed by Bertolt Brecht.
Brecht did not seek to immerse his audience in
make-believe. He wanted them to see the
bigger picture and the real issues at play without being side-tracked by the
plot or fixated on the problems of individual characters. The focus was on the systemic issues and
structures which ruled the character’s worlds and shaped their every
action.
This alienation, the distancing of the audience from
the world of the characters so as to allow for critical thought and analysis
about real world issues, works perfectly with the themes of science-fiction and
fantasy. Fantasy in particular is ideal
because the setting is so far removed from the world as we know it that the
audience is capable of opening its mind to ideas that it might otherwise resist
and to embrace a deeper point and message.
The readers of fantasy are distanced from what is going on in the story,
they are not immersed in it that environment in their daily lives, so therefore
it becomes possible to make statements about the real world, contemporary
politics and contemporary conflicts and struggle that are much more subversive,
provocative and powerful than if they are made directly through political literature
or some other medium of non-fiction.
The rampant escapism and illusion that we see in the
environment of late capitalist society can only be combated by a continuous
infusion of reality into fantasy; smashing the barriers that the escapist tries
to erect around them like a battering ram against a castle gate. Reality is radical amid this sea of lies and
must be relentless enough to smash through all attempts to block it out. It follows that even the most outlandish
science-fiction and fantasy visions must take a strong political stance about
events and issues in the real world if they are to have any purpose and value
beyond serving as safety valves for the status quo.
In these genres, radical realism expresses itself
through satire; boldly turning convention on its head. A traditional fantasy writer glorifies the
monarch and the aristocrat and encourages the proletarian to dream riding
alongside these gallant highborn heroes or fantasize about standing in their
finely-made riding boots knowing their power, glory, and adventure, all of
which contrasts so grandly with their mundane lives and struggles. The radical realist shatters these illusions
by again and again exposing these feudal potentates for the monsters that they
are, along with their brutal contempt for the common people that they live off
like parasites. The radical realist does
not allow the proletarian to dream of anything but his or her own emancipation
as a proletarian, along with the true heroism that is inherent in that struggle
for liberation and in those who fight to see it realized. It is proletarian literature with proletarian
heroes, who, though low-born, are more heroic and far more interesting than the
grandest prince, king, or emperor.
Brecht himself was a master satirist of the capitalist
society in which he lived, along with its literature. In his famous anti-war play “Mother Courage
and her Children”, he makes the point that if ordinary people can only get by
and survive through extraordinary virtues, it means that something is wrong
with how society is organized and with the forces and people that control
it. This is very familiar to us who live
under the rubric of late capitalism in the dying embers of the post-war boom:
if you have to go crazy marketing yourself, presenting yourself, selling
yourself, being a “go getter” and a “hustler”, and displaying tremendous
amounts of entrepreneurial talent just to get a steady job that pays the bills
and provides for your family than there is a serious problem with society. In the context of 21st Century late
capitalism, ordinary is no longer enough, revealing a social order that is
rotten to the core.
It follows that the criticism that Brecht would no
doubt make of a series like Game of Thrones is that it draws the reader to
become emotionally attached to and invested in the fates of specific
aristocratic characters that are competing for power or struggling to survive
the power struggle they are caught up in as unwilling participants. Readers are encouraged to lose themselves in
the vividly developed characters rather than critically examining and
questioning the socio-political parameters of the world of Westeros as defined
in deeply conservative terms by George R.R. Martin. Readers are ruled by their emotions and
driven by their sub-conscious, immersing themselves in the story rather than
standing back and critically analyzing its implications. Thus they do not ask questions like why do
the ordinary people of Westeros put up with the aristocratic feuds that are
destroying their livelihoods and tearing their land apart? Why do they tolerate
this parasitical feudal order which is so clearly built upon exploitation and
abuse? Why do the “low-born” not rise up and become active agents of their own
destiny? Why are there no peasant revolts, urban uprisings or township
rebellions (common features of feudal societies the world over)?
George R.R. Martin’s decision to keep the common
people in his novels passive and atomized almost reminds me of Margaret
Thatcher’s statement that there is “no such thing as society, there are only
individuals and their families”. Indeed,
much of Game of Thrones reads almost like a celebrity gossip column in essence:
who is sleeping with who, and who is so and so’s child. I am not surprised that modern day consumers
of Hollywood/celebrity/royal soap operas and tabloids find George R.R. Martin’s
work to very juicy indeed. It is a
grotesque caricature, and yet another feature that firmly places Martin in the
literary landscape of late capitalism, where reality is distorted beyond
recognition in service of the profit motive.
The common people in his stories are effectively at the mercy of the
aristocrats and are given no agency or collective interests at all. Historical examples of the common people
taking their destiny into their own hands, such as the English Peasants’
Revolt, the Hussite Rebellion, the German Peasants War, and similar popular
uprisings by the “lower orders” have no place in the world of Westeros, where
non-aristocrats are quite openly reduced to the status of pawns and onlookers. This is hardly a progressive literary vision,
and yet Martin’s working class readers have not yet learned to ask
questions.
But as the 21st Century marches on, even the most
escapist members of the working class are discovering that they have nowhere to
run. In this age of austerity, war and
environmental catastrophe, it is clear that they must fight against their
oppressors and exploiters. Not only must
they fight, they must know what it means to fight. This is where mainstream literature has
failed the proletarian. Fantasy in
particular has blinded them to reality with regard to the nature of struggle,
the nature of sacrifice, the nature of heroism, the nature of victory, and,
above all, the true nature of good and evil.
To draw upon the popular example of Tolkien’s The
Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, if the evil forces of Middle Earth are so
dangerous, if Sauron is so dangerous, if Smaug is so dangerous, and if the
forces of good and righteousness are truly beset from all sides and facing
destruction, than how is it that Tolkien’s heroes can hack their way through
legions of Orcs, Goblins, Easterlings, Southrons, Dunlendings, and Nazgul,
often without taking a single casualty? There is no historical example, from
the Palestinian liberation struggle to the Cuban Revolution to Spartacus’s
slave rebellion, to say nothing of the Soviet Union’s exceptionally bloody and
heroic struggle against fascism, of a besieged people challenging a mighty and
evil empire without paying the cost in blood.
In the real world heroes die and good guys bleed. Evil is never defeated without the ability to
sacrifice and the willingness to suffer, take casualties, and accept
death.
Hollywood, like most bourgeois cultural institutions,
teaches people that it is possible for “chosen people” to win without cost and
to enjoy the fruits of victory without suffering. Thus it stands in total defiance of
reality. In fact that’s the whole point
of all these superhero movies.
Real suffering and real victories are to be found in
the USSR’s life and death struggle against Hitler’s legions between 1941 and
1945. Real heroes are people like the
female Soviet bomber pilot Yevgenia Zhigulenko, who flew 968 low-level night
bombing missions against Nazi troops in World War II, sometimes operating 10-15
sorties per night in an open-cockpit light bomber aircraft, and was twice shot
down. Such true heroes are far more
real than Tolkien’s literary and movie portrayals of Aragorn, who can wade
through all the dangers of The Lord of the Rings without suffering so much as a
scratch. True heroes are not “chosen
ones”, but ordinary people responding, with all their fears and imperfections,
to extraordinary circumstances.
It is therefore vital that working class and oppressed
people see themselves in science fiction and fantasy literature. And for this literature to show them that
real victories can be won no matter how hard the struggle might be. Nor is it enough for this literature to criticize
and satirize the status quo. This
literature must always involve the struggle for power and the seizure of power
by working class and oppressed people.
As such it must include a strong sense of historical memory on the part
of the oppressed; a repressed yet still burning desire for vengeance against
their oppressors on behalf of present and past generations, in addition to a
yearning for redemption on the part of future generations. Self-determination and the struggle for
self-determination must underpin everything.
And anyone who would write this literature must have respect for the
real world struggles of those resisting capitalism, colonialism and empire. Anything less, as George Habash rightly pointed
out, would be submission to the forces of exploitation and oppression tearing
the world apart. Reality is
radical. Reality is struggle. And this must permeate any world that an
author would create, along with the hard-fought victories that can and must be
won in the name of the just and livable future that we all strive for as
progressive-minded people. Writing is
never non-political.
Dropkick Murphys – “Worker's Song”
Thank you for listening to Back in the USSR, brothers
and sisters. That was Truth Is, one of
my favorite spoken word poets of all time, capturing a lot of the themes I’ve
been talking about tonight in that wonderful poem entitled “Alone”. This is the first of two episodes where I’ll
be discussing radical fiction. Next week
I’ll focus a little more on my own writing and experience with my own work,
while continuing to expand on this discussion.
Take care, comrades and friends and I hope you’ll join me this time next
week for more.
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