"True journey is return..." - Shevek
Even though I never seem to remember its author's name, William G. Perry's scheme for cognitive development comes to mind nearly every day. It shares common traits with Milton Bennett's developmental model of intercultural sensitivity, as well as Carol Gilligan's stages of the ethic of care and Lawrence Kohlberg's model of moral development, both of which Jean Piaget's constructivist work deeply influenced. (Geek snort.) As a humanist, I find much social science inherently problematic, reliant upon assumptions that elide contextual differences. These criticisms equally apply to Perry, Gilligan, Kohlberg, and Piaget, of course, as the extensive literatures on educational psychology illustrate. But these theories, and particularly Perry's, continue to undergird my philosophical metanarrative of life in powerful ways.
Written at roughly the same time as Perry's model, science fiction master Ursula K. Le Guin's The Dispossessed reads like a fictionalization of one individual's pursuit of full cognitive development. The book's (mass market paperback) cover strikingly describes it as "an astonishing tale of one man's search for utopia." It's misleading in a very clever way. This book is not about "utopia" as the elusive, perfect place, that "no place" of Thomas More. Le Guin's vision of utopia is a state of mind, of cognitive enlightenment, of the realization that the perfect place--the state of true freedom--is nowhere but in ourselves, an epistemological nirvana.
Written at roughly the same time as Perry's model, science fiction master Ursula K. Le Guin's The Dispossessed reads like a fictionalization of one individual's pursuit of full cognitive development. The book's (mass market paperback) cover strikingly describes it as "an astonishing tale of one man's search for utopia." It's misleading in a very clever way. This book is not about "utopia" as the elusive, perfect place, that "no place" of Thomas More. Le Guin's vision of utopia is a state of mind, of cognitive enlightenment, of the realization that the perfect place--the state of true freedom--is nowhere but in ourselves, an epistemological nirvana.
As such, her narrative unfolds to a point not unlike Perry's final stage of cognitive development, wherein the individual climaxes intellectually at a Commitment in the face of Relativism. In the case of Shevek, the protagonist of Le Guin's novel, that commitment takes the primary form of his love for his partner Takver and their children. (In a world where monogamy is countercultural, such a commitment is bold.) But Shevek's commitment is also to continue his planet's "permanent anarchist revolution" in all of its myriad forms. (I won't go into Odonianism, the fascinating philosophy in the novel, but its worth its own blog.) The denouement of such a life is spiritual enrichment through fidelity to a commitment. It's much easier, and less (if at all) fulfilling to not make such commitments; the joy, Le Guin constantly reminds us, is in the "journey and return," the experience of life's many challenges and the self-reflection required to keep us on task. Where Perry employs the language of Commitment, though, Le Guin uses the metaphor of the Promise, by definition a commitment that binds one to future action. A Promise facilitates escape from the permanent present, in its chaos of subjectivity and relativity. The term "promise" also connotes "potential," meaning that without such a commitment to future action, we lack potential, value, meaning.
These issues are profound, and I hate to admit that it's only in reflecting on and writing about this book that I've come to really appreciate it. I didn't care for The Dispossessed in a variety of ways. The division of the narrative into two halves--one focused on Anarres, the other in Urras--initially seemed derivative. I also felt the language often crass; Le Guin's use of lowbrow words, like "shitstool" as the Anarresti replacement for "toilet," unsettled me more than I would have expected. Above all, Shevek's shocking, drug-fueled attempted rape of Vea made me shelve the book for a few days. But Le Guin calculates these factors well, to allow us to better inhabit these alien worlds--and to remind us that "utopia" really does mean "nowhere." She means to shock us into viewing the anarchic world of Anarres. What anarchist society would construct language that shames bathroom or sexual behavior (as Shevek explicitly reflects), after all? Our society is so far from anarchism that these countercultural norms should not always feel comfortable to us. When I think about what most affected me negatively about The Dispossessed, I realize they tended to be challenges to my own cultural assumptions.
And those elements of Anarresti society that most affect me positively, likewise, tend to either confirm my assumptions about or support my conscious arguments against mainstream society. Homosexuality, bisexuality, and queer sexuality, for example, are all "normal" on Anarres; heteronormativity has no place. Shevek, who identifies as primarily heterosexual, carried on a mostly happy sexual relationship with his primarily homosexual friend, Bedap, prior to his monogamous partnership with Takver. Anarresti volunteer to assist their fellow citizens and build public works together in a mutual aid system not unlike the mit'a system of the Inca. As a result, social class does not exist.
All is not happy on Anarres, though, as Le Guin reminds us with her "ambiguous utopia" subtitle. The planet is essentially steppe or desert with few resources to sustain prosperity. Most foods come from the everpresent holum plant, making for what seemed like a bland food culture. Mining is the primary industry, but the raw materials tend to flow outward toward the home planet of Urras. In effect, Anarres is an extractive colony that imports most of its finished goods--never a sustainable economic model, if human history is a reliable guide. Most importantly, for Shevek's development, Anarres's Odonian experiment begins to show its failings. His academic mentor, Sabul, plagiarizes his physics theory to win social capital. Rulag, Shevek's mother, casts him as a traitor to the revolution for questioning her "authority." And social pressures effectively take the place of law. Anarresti do not appear to be above rioting, if the democratic mob deems violent action necessary. In these ways, Anarres reminds me of my current home state of Kansas, where neighbors dutifully put their peers in their social places through passive aggressive comments about lawns, dress, swearing, or drinking. (These issues don't bother me at all--can't you tell?)
And those elements of Anarresti society that most affect me positively, likewise, tend to either confirm my assumptions about or support my conscious arguments against mainstream society. Homosexuality, bisexuality, and queer sexuality, for example, are all "normal" on Anarres; heteronormativity has no place. Shevek, who identifies as primarily heterosexual, carried on a mostly happy sexual relationship with his primarily homosexual friend, Bedap, prior to his monogamous partnership with Takver. Anarresti volunteer to assist their fellow citizens and build public works together in a mutual aid system not unlike the mit'a system of the Inca. As a result, social class does not exist.
All is not happy on Anarres, though, as Le Guin reminds us with her "ambiguous utopia" subtitle. The planet is essentially steppe or desert with few resources to sustain prosperity. Most foods come from the everpresent holum plant, making for what seemed like a bland food culture. Mining is the primary industry, but the raw materials tend to flow outward toward the home planet of Urras. In effect, Anarres is an extractive colony that imports most of its finished goods--never a sustainable economic model, if human history is a reliable guide. Most importantly, for Shevek's development, Anarres's Odonian experiment begins to show its failings. His academic mentor, Sabul, plagiarizes his physics theory to win social capital. Rulag, Shevek's mother, casts him as a traitor to the revolution for questioning her "authority." And social pressures effectively take the place of law. Anarresti do not appear to be above rioting, if the democratic mob deems violent action necessary. In these ways, Anarres reminds me of my current home state of Kansas, where neighbors dutifully put their peers in their social places through passive aggressive comments about lawns, dress, swearing, or drinking. (These issues don't bother me at all--can't you tell?)
As for Urras, it is the best of times, and it is the worst of times. The "archists" of the many nation-states war constantly over resources and ideologies. The rich and poor are filthy, but for different reasons. In some societies, like the capitalist A-Io (the allegorical counterpart to the U.S.), a male-dominant society polices women and their behavior with social norms that would make most Americans blush. Many Ioti women, for example, refrain from clothing their breasts at home. In others, like the Stalinist nation of Thu (the not-so-subtle stand-in for the U.S.S.R.), individuals tend to vanish for unpopular thought. But unlike Anarres, Urras is wealthy in resources and naturally beautiful. Scarcity is an issue, but only because of unjust power structures. (To put the anarchist society of Anarres on the rich planet of Urras would be too simple, and far too unambiguous.)
These social elements may color the mise-en-scène in The Dispossessed, but I suspect that Le Guin wants us to see their power as equal to that of a passionate romance in fueling development toward the Perry-esque end of cognitive enlightenment. Both social problems and personal relationships challenge us to overcome the walls--one of Le Guin's favored metaphors--that we socially construct for ourselves. The very first sentence focuses our attention on the symbol. A simple wall circumscribes the Port of Anarres, the only place where Urrasti are allowed to set foot, to ensure that the planet remains pure of dangerous exterior influences. And walls pop up throughout the narrative: not just physical, as at Oiie's palatial estate in A-Io; but social, as with the grinding separation Shevek and Takver experience during the Anarresti famine. One is welcome to remain within these walls. But on this score, Shevek would channel Benjamin Franklin (in the real version of his often misquoted line): "Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety."
These social elements may color the mise-en-scène in The Dispossessed, but I suspect that Le Guin wants us to see their power as equal to that of a passionate romance in fueling development toward the Perry-esque end of cognitive enlightenment. Both social problems and personal relationships challenge us to overcome the walls--one of Le Guin's favored metaphors--that we socially construct for ourselves. The very first sentence focuses our attention on the symbol. A simple wall circumscribes the Port of Anarres, the only place where Urrasti are allowed to set foot, to ensure that the planet remains pure of dangerous exterior influences. And walls pop up throughout the narrative: not just physical, as at Oiie's palatial estate in A-Io; but social, as with the grinding separation Shevek and Takver experience during the Anarresti famine. One is welcome to remain within these walls. But on this score, Shevek would channel Benjamin Franklin (in the real version of his often misquoted line): "Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety."
Liberty may be Le Guin's primary theme, but the process by which we fully realize liberty is what most interests her. It's painful to break down walls, whether physical or social. The shared experience of that pain, as Shevek argues to his teenage friends and later adult colleagues, is what best facilitates our empathy toward others. It is through this painful journey that we see the world from the perspectives of others, and upon return home we see ourselves in the clearer light of greater objectivity. In this way, we can achieve an awareness, a cognitive enlightenment, that is not a solution, but a challenge, to life. Le Guin, like Perry, calls on us to pursue this utopian dream day after day, for it is nowhere but in ourselves.
My Rating: Excellent, 8 out of 10
My Goodreads Rating: 4 out of 5
