Worlds Apart: Ursula K. Le Guin and the Possibility of Method
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05-235 Ch 02.qxd 5/24/05 3:08 PM Page 37 • 2 • Worlds Apart: Ursula K. Le Guin and the Possibility of Method Simon Stow This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, liv- ing or dead, is entirely coincidental.1 Despite this disclaimer, printed on the copyright page of Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Dispossessed, the novel has almost always been regarded as an account of the promise and problems of an anarchist society.2 In many of the critical and polit- ical responses to the novel there has, that is to say, been a conflation between the world of the text and the world in which that text is written—between what the anarchist theorist Paul Goodman called the written and the unwritten worlds3— one that makes the former stand in for the latter, undermining or simply ignor- ing the value of the legal claim made at the outset of the novel. In this moment of tension between the disclaimer and the conflation we see both the complex- ity of the relationship between Goodman’s two worlds—how the distinction be- tween them is less clear cut than some would have us believe4—and the problem of utopia in political theory: either the disclaimer is embraced, and the two worlds are seen as entirely separate, with utopia becoming little more than a thought experiment with minor import for our everyday lives; or it is ignored, and the utopia is seen as a detailed blueprint for a future society. In either case, something important in the way of critical reflection is lost. In her creation of two fully realized literary worlds, Anarres and Urras, Le Guin’s novel shows us a way out of this binary opposition, one that taps into a long tradition in political thought—stretching all the way from Thucydides to John Rawls—of juxtapos- ing realities as a source of critical insight. In this instance, however, Le Guin’s work offers us a doubly critical perspective: one that forces the reader not only to consider her world and the way that she lives, but also to reflect upon the pos- sibility of utopia itself and its role in political thought and analysis. In this, The 37 05-235 Ch 02.qxd 5/24/05 3:08 PM Page 38 38 Simon Stow Dispossessed offers us not the limited opportunities of a specific critique or thought experiment, but something much more valuable: the experience and the demonstration of replicable critical method. That The Dispossessed is concerned in some way, shape, or form with anar- chism cannot be denied. The description of life of the Anarresti population is re- markably close to the accounts of ideal societies in anarchist theory: “Members of a community, not elements of a collectivity, they were not moved by mass feeling; there were as many emotions as there were people. And they did not expect com- mands to be arbitrary, so they had no practice in disobeying them” (1: 4). Similarly, Shevek describes himself—albeit somewhat ironically—as an “anarchist” (1: 25) in his early encounters with the Urrasti. Even more tellingly, Le Guin, who has de- scribed anarchism as “the most idealistic, and to me the most interesting of all po- litical theories,” declared that her purpose in writing The Dispossessed was to em- body anarchism “in a novel, which had not been done before.”5 In this context, the disclaimer that precedes the novel begins to look like an ironic form of occupatio, the rhetorical device by which one announces that one is not going to talk about a subject as a means of doing precisely that. It is an approach which is, of course, common to much fiction. No matter how fantastic the written worlds of literature, they must bear at least some resemblance to the unwritten world in which they are disseminated and published, otherwise we readers would not be able to make sense of them; as Wittgenstein observed in another context: “If a lion could talk, we could not understand him.”6 Despite the legal disclaimer that prefaces the novel then, the written world of fiction must stand in some relationship to the unwrit- ten world to the extent that the resemblance of events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead must be something more than “coincidental.” Consciously or unconsciously, written world situations, events, and characters are constructed for the purpose of reflecting upon the unwritten world: they are ways of exploring, amongst other things, the politics, relationships and emotions of the unwritten world under different conditions. We might think, for example, of the Ring of Gyges in Plato’s Republic, which is used to illustrate the alleged consequences of removing the fear of sanction from human behavior.7 The use of the literary as a realm of alternate possibility is especially com- mon in the genres of science fiction, speculative fiction and utopian literature. Margaret Atwood draws a distinction between the first two categories when she declares that science fiction deals with “technologies we don’t yet have, other uni- verses,” whereas speculative fiction is concerned with “this planet. It doesn’t use things we don’t already have or are not already developing.”8 In its acceptance of relatively easy travel between planets, The Dispossessed seems to belong quite clearly to Atwood’s first category of science fiction. However, in its concern with the unwritten world theory of anarchism, and in the tension on Urras between A- Io and Thu—a tension which clearly corresponds to the conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union in the period that the novel was written— The Dispossessed might also be regarded as speculative fiction: exploring the pos- 05-235 Ch 02.qxd 5/24/05 3:08 PM Page 39 Worlds Apart: Ursula K. Le Guin and the Possibility of Method 39 sibilities and implications of ideologies and political problems that we already have. In this alone, The Dispossessed might seem to be disqualified from the genre of utopian literature altogether. Resting on a Latin pun, the word utopia as coined by Thomas More suggests both no place and a better place, one that is divorced from current political formations. In the words of David Chidester and Edward T. Linenthal, “utopian space is unbounded, unfixed to any particular location, a place that can only be reached by breaking out of, or being liberated from the bonds of a prevailing social order.”9 If this is indeed the case, it is little wonder that Francis Bacon complained in The Advancement of Learning that, “As for the philosophers, they make imaginary laws for imaginary commonwealths, and their discourses are as the stars, which give little light because they are so high.”10 It is, however, precisely this notion of utopia that The Dispossessed calls into question, leading us back to an older tradition of social and political thought. It is a tradi- tion that forces us to recognize the connectedness of utopia to the political con- text in which it is written, with critical leverage and theoretical insight emerging from the juxtaposition of the written world of utopia with the political problems of the unwritten world from which it springs. For the Greeks, Theoria, the root of the modern word theory, was primarily connected to the noun theoros, meaning an “observer” or “spectator.” As such it was inextricably associated with the theater: an alternative space in which, as many studies have shown, the Greeks addressed their most pressing social and political issues in comedic or tragic form.11 Additionally, however, theoros had the implication of someone who travels to see other cities and places: an ambassador or official envoy sent by the city to other places to witness and testify on their ac- tions. It is against this background that we should consider Shevek’s oft repeated claim that he is a “theoretician” (3: 86) concerned with “theoretical work” (12: 366). Shevek’s role in the text is precisely that: one who travels between worlds to reflect on them both. This was certainly the role of the theater in Greek political life, with the citizens acting as spectators, reflecting upon the world depicted on stage, and then returning, potentially transformed, to their quotidian and politi- cal worlds. The aim of the exercise was not, of course, simply to repeat that which they had seen depicted on stage in their own lives—had they done so Greek life would have been as bloody as that of the Romans—but rather to incorporate that which they had seen into their lives by synthesizing the world of the theater with the world of politics and that of their daily existence. It was, on a much smaller scale, an opportunity for ordinary Greek citizens to engage in the epic tradition of journey and return that marked Homer’s Odyssey.12 The dual notions of jour- ney and return, and of synthesizing dueling perspectives are central to Shevek’s life, and indeed, to the Odonian philosophy by which he attempts to live. The connection between Odonian philosophy and the notion of homecoming—or what the Greeks called nostos—is evidenced by the inscription on Odo’s tomb, the latter part of which reads “true voyage is return” (3: 84). Shevek, we are told, “would always be one for whom the return was as important 05-235 Ch 02.qxd 5/24/05 3:08 PM Page 40 40 Simon Stow as the voyage out.