Sunday, July 3, 2011

Brave New World

I've been meaning to read Aldous Huxley's Brave New World for ages. I picked up a cheap copy at a Borders' liquidation sale last March and just got around to reading it while I was traveling the past couple of weeks. All I can really say is: "meh". There are interesting things, but I described the book to a friend who had never read it as thus: The first two chapters, where we learn about the conditioning process that occurs from fertilization through adolescent development for all citizens is very fascinating. Chapters 17 and 18, where our would-be protagonists talk with the Controller about God, Science, Truth, and Beauty and their lack of place in a harmonious society are interesting. Everything else is whiny bitches.

Really, this is a problem with plenty of "dystopian" fiction. It's so concerned with portraying its authors personal take on why humanity is screwed that it feels it doesn't need to tell a compelling story or provide characters with realistic motivations. It's like reading a Platonic dialogue for the plot rather than the philosophy: you're just going to be irked by how much of a Mary Jane Socrates is. In Plato, though, this is tolerable because there really isn't any action beyond the discussion and the philosophy. In Brave New World and other books of its ilk, however, the plot is meant to be somehow meaningful, or at least illustrative, and it takes up a much more significant proportion of the proceedings.

So, the fact that our "savage" and Bernard and, to a lesser extent, Heimholtz are all complete idiots is consistently annoying. Beyond even that, Huxley shoots his entire thesis in the foot with the fate of Bernard and Heimholtz by telling us that failures in the conditioning process are more common than we've been led to believe and that there are effectively numerous colonies of "normal" humans continuing to advance the race on the fringes of Utopia in the form of the Islands. That we then finish the book with a long and completely pointless chapter following John's fate is pointless. We know damn well that, were he not a "savage" and a "social experiment" his grim end would be unneeded.

Furthermore, while Huxley does a good job in early chapters of seeming to take his society seriously and as the norm, the tone becomes increasingly tongue-in-cheek as he delves into the more ridiculous suppositions. The community sing culminating in the mass orgy, for instance, is just absurd. I get that real art is supposed to have disappeared, but that doesn't change the fact that the entire sequence is a chore to read through between the songs and the sudden, inexplicable sexual frenzy that sweeps through. Contrasted to the very well written early portions where Lenina is being scolded for her borderline monogamy (ridiculous, but believable), it's a sad failure. Further, the notion of "Ford" instead of god just became more and more painful as it entered into the character's vocabulary. As what I believed to be a tongue-in-cheek idea in the foreword, I could deal with it. As a foundational aspect of society, it just seemed utterly unbelievable -- though this has more to do with a problem I'll discuss at the end.

Finally, everything to do with the "reservation" is also just poorly executed. The notion that all world religions would have merged over hundreds of years just shows an unnecessary lack of respect for all of them. To be franks, an equally offensive (to a theist) and far more likely suggestion is that religious warfare would have wiped out the remaining "uncivilized" regions or left them with a handful of small factions fighting over scarce resources. Disease, poverty, and monogomy, not simple greed or other human instincts stamped out or tempered by the conditioning process, seem to be the reasons for the reservations to be in such disarray.

That said, Huxley has a lot of interesting ideas about what it would take in order for individuals to live as willing slaves of the government. Specifically, he focuses on the fairly obvious notion of control via the carrot. By keeping people content, you keep them from questioning you. The genetic selection, developmental behavioral training, and biological "surrogate" drugs provide the foundation for this contentment, which is then maintained throughout life by three societal pillars: Soma helps to manage those inevitable moments of disappointment and sadness. The elimination of the family in favor of government "hatcheries" and indoctrination centers reduces the odds of personal attachment and thus strong emotional reactions to overpower logic. Societally expected promiscuity works on both effects.

It's a fascinating approach, but one that time has shown to be absurd.

First of all, Huxley lived in a time where Freud was still taken somewhat seriously and where Psychology was synonymous with Behaviorism. This is no longer the case. We know so much more about the brain and how it operates now that it becomes trivial to question the basic premises upon which so much of the conditioning process is based. More important, though, is the fact that Huxley assumed a society that would continue in the wake of industrialization. He had no idea, even in his addenda and commentary, that the microcomputer, much less The Internet, was on the horizon. Mass, immediate access to information completely obliterates Huxley's future, and while a future where such technology is squashed away, the process to get there would be more violent -- and certainly more prolonged -- even than the war he suggests led to the founding of Utopia.

Of course, The Internet provides plenty of opportunity for a parallel road into a similar future. We have the sort of constant, superficial contact with people that Huxley predicted in the form of social networking. We can sit and anesthetize ourselves to our ills and those of the world by overloading on news to the point that we lose our capacity to care or by playing games or by watching cat videos. The important distinction, though, is that these problems are not government imposed or even sanctioned. They are self inflicted. Fortunately, we live in a society that has smart enough to recognize that Internet addiction and information overload are actual problems. Unfortunately, we also live in a society that continues to pursue ubiquitous computing and the social isolation it promotes before we've begun to solve the problems of the current generation of technology. I'm hopeful, but...we'll see.

7 comments:

Ed said...

I read Brave New World in high school for a research project. It didn't blow me away then and I can't say it sticks with me now, although I keep thinking I should go back a read it again.

benpost said...

It's been a long time since I read BNW, and it was never my favorite dystopian novel. It's just so very strange. Truth be told, I'm starting to wonder if maybe we should stop talking about BNW in the same breath as 1984 (or We, which I thought was pretty awesome). As you picked up from the intro, it seems like Huxley tries to develop a light, playful tone. 1984 is a claustrophobic urban nightmare, while BNW feels like the suburbs--open spaces, private helicopters, everything planned perfectly. The tricky thing is that, as readers, we're conditioned to think of dystopias as nightmare worlds. BNW, unlike its fellow dystopias, is more of a playful dream, a fun thought experiment maybe, than a prophetic warning. Although individual jokes may get on our nerves (I remember being kind of annoyed by the "Oh, Ford" business too), the main joke is still pretty funny. Maybe it's just the Cold Warrior in me, but Huxley's mashup of American worship of Heroes of (Capitalist) Industry and Soviet art is pretty hilarious. The sex scenes still make me laugh a bit too, from the Ford-themed orgy (c'mon, you've got to at least smile over that idea) to the awesome line from the first chapter: "Children, stop your erotic play!" (iirc).

benpost said...

If we read BNW as a fun, perhaps somewhat satiric, thought experiment (rather than a traditional plot-driven novel or a Platonic or Thomas More-ian conversation), I think it becomes much more enjoyable--and much more interesting. My big question, after all these years, is this: does Huxley approve or disapprove of the world he invents? Is BNW really a dystopia, or could we maybe characterize it as utopian? After all, everybody's happy, and the people who are dissatisfied can leave if they want. 1984 beats its dissidents into submission ("He loved Big Brother"), but in BNW they're always free to go (Heimholtz seems really happy, and grateful, that he has the option, iirc). Ursula K. Le Guin subtitled her sci-fi novel The Dispossessed (it's pretty good, I think) "An Ambiguous Utopia". BNW, maybe, works the same way. It's a "no-place" that isn't obviously, self-evidently, good or evil. It's just different, and interesting--regardless of whether the science is outdated or its predictions end up looking silly (of course, since I spend most of my reading time with people who still believe in the Four Humors and who are just getting used to the idea of a heliocentric solar system, I've got a pretty high tolerance for outdated science).

benpost said...

The main questions Huxley is getting at--what is a good society? what role does human happiness play in the good society? how should it be preserved?--are timeless, as you point out in your last paragraph. The way Huxley approaches this question--thin plot, decent dialogue, good worldbuilding--may differ from the form of, say, Plato's Republic, More's Utopia, or Gibson's Neuromancer (maybe in ways we don't like), but it's Huxley's slippery content that makes BNW interesting. Some utopian worlds are straw men, others are shiny temples of perfection, but BNW hesitates between the two.

This, I think, is the importance of the last chapter. When John speaks, does he speak with Huxley's voice? (this society is degenerate, evil, etc.) Or does Huxley suggest that John's attempt to lock down his libido is unhealthy? Is John's suicide a principled act of protest, like setting yourself on fire, or a simple failure? What do we make of the fact that the government seems completely absent in this last chapter (iirc, the only protagonists are John's libido, his guilt, and the woman he sleeps with)? And how do we read the final image, of his feet pointing in all directions like a compass that's freaking out? Which way does John's death point us as readers? The answer isn't immediately clear, and it's that opaqueness and complexity that makes BNW interesting.

benpost said...

Not that I have any plans to reread it. Ursula K. Le Guin's The Dispossessed and The Left Hand of Darkness do similar things with a lot more psychological depth (you really get to know her protagonists), and Zamyatin's We was pretty good too (he wrote it just a few years after the Soviet Revolution). Fahrenheit 451 still holds up well as a dystopian novel, despite the ridiculousness of its premise. Although there's not much worldbuilding, the pace is frenetic and Bradbury's prose is insane (he's got this stream-of-consciousness writing technique that takes him to some very strange places). Even Huxley has another entry in the genre, a novel called Island (iirc) which explores the same world from a more unambiguously positive angle. I guess what I'm saying is that there's some really good stuff in the genre, and if BNW doesn't float your boat there's always another island to escape to.

[Sorry for quadruple-posting here--I had to break up my 800 words into chunks that the comment system could handle. I just really like utopian/dystopian fiction!]

Walz said...

Ben, your posts make me wish that I had read a copy that didn't come with a 10 year retrospective forward and the "Brave New World Revisited" retrospective. Huxely adamantly thinks that this is the worst possible kind of future a thinking person (like himself) could imagine and offers up all kinds of ideas about how it might be avoided. Had I not begun with the foreword, I think I would have wound up, like you, questioning whether this was all meant to be so bad or weather Jon was meant to be an even greater lunatic than he already seems for rejecting it.

Walz said...

Wow, at least one truly shameful type there. Sorry.