Stranger Than Fiction

Last Wednesday, Arthur C. Clarke, the renowned science fiction writer, died at his home in Colombo, Sri Lanka. Clarke, who was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II in 1998, is often placed in the pantheon of great science fiction Writers along with the likes of Isaac Asimov, Philip K. Dick, H. G. Wells, Jules Verne, and Ray Bradbury. The honor is justly deserved. During his 90-year life, Clarke wrote nearly 100 novels dealing with that strange, fantastic stuff called science.

I mention this because it’s nearly impossible to talk about the 21st century without considering the monumental influence of science fiction on science in particular and society in general. Even alluding to the “21st century” conjures up the expectations of extraterrestrial visitations, android manservants, lunar colonies, intelligent computers, and of course, the ever-elusive flying car. The chances are you have heard of these exotic technologies before, all because of science fiction.

But more than just being fantastical daydreams, science fiction also has popularized science by educating the public in a medium more approachable than academic journals. I personally owe much of my embryonic scientific knowledge to science fiction. For example, “Jurassic Park” first introduced me to DNA and cloning, “Star Trek” to faster-than-light travel, and “2001: a Space Odyssey” to artificial intelligence and to the idea that human evolution might not be finished. Most lay-knowledge of science ranging from aliens and asteroid strikes to time-travel paradoxes and nuclear holocaust scenarios can all be traced back to the genre of science fiction.

Perhaps it would be all well and good if science fiction simply gave us dream-like promises of new inventions and a brief introduction to exaggerated scientific theories. But science fiction paints a portrait of human society that is starker and truer than any other genre of fiction. This, of course, is undoubtedly an unpopular idea among more literary types. After all, isn’t the wonderful world of science fiction the territory of pimply, socially awkward teenagers? This would be true if our world was still a world where life was a simple morality play that was played out on the great supernatural ladder of being and was guided by one part fate and one part justice. However, our world is not that world. Instead we live in the 21st century proper—a world where the pawns are now also the chess masters and a gaze at the stars is no longer a study of philosophical perfection but rather a view of our cosmic loneliness. Perhaps, we are still in a morality play, but if so, it’s unlike any we’ve ever played before. Technology has allowed us to harness natural forces to create tremendous transformative power. But this power can create as well as destroy.

Science fiction is so far the only genre that has truly captured this novel morality play. The great dystopic and apocalyptic tales, such as Orwell’s “1984”, Huxley’s “Brave New World”, Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451”, and Vonnegut’s “Cats Cradle”, are all written as science fiction. Our power to utterly destroy ourselves or our world through nuclear war or other man-made mishaps has only been comprehended and communicated through science fiction. Even the current threat posed by climate change is along the lines of science fiction. It’s not a moral struggle between good and evil but instead a danger formed by our irresponsible and selfish use of technology.

But despite the gloom and doom, science fiction also displays an optimistic view of humanity. Arthur C. Clarke in particular created many utopian societies that ceased to view individuals based on race, religion, or nationality and instead regarded all as members of a shared human species. Clarke believed that peace could emerge if the same energies that result in war and genocide were channeled into space exploration and the eventual colonization of new worlds.

Coincidentally enough, two days ago, on the same day that Arthur C. Clarke passed away, scientists announced the first discovery of organic molecules (methane) and water in the atmosphere of a planet outside of our solar system. The presence of these molecules increases our chances of finding other planets that have conditions that could support life as we know it. Although it is a shame that Arthur C. Clarke died before hearing this news, somehow it seems like he knew it long before any of us.

Steven T. Cupps ’09 is a biological anthropology and economics concentrator in Lowell House. His column appears on alternate Fridays.