Humanity through Martian lore: the discovery of the self through the other

Zelazny’s A Rose for Ecclesiastes addresses notions of alterity in an interesting and indirect way. Gallinger, the pompous but linguistically gifted poet that acts as the protagonist of the story, is granted access to the cultural history of the Mars after demonstrating his considerable mastery of their “Lower Tongue.” While immersing himself in translating alien works of history and scripture, he falls for a Martian dancer that he inadvertently impregnates. Unbeknownst to Gallinger, his ensuing challenge to the Martian Matriarchy in the name of his beloved Braxa would fulfill an ancient prophecy that predicts the arrival of a savior from the sky.

On the surface, the story appears to represent a simple, colonial fantasy where the educated white man (who also happens to possess some serious martial arts training) swoops in to save the beautiful, dancing women of another world – a work of “camp” or “pulp,” as noted by a few others. The narrative itself is saturated with constant name-dropping and literary allusion, not to mention the heavily religious undertones suggested by the title. I want to argue, however, that Zelazny’s vision is more complex than what is suggested above. The scholarly (albeit pretentious) referencing, in addition to the lack of overall detail provided about the Martians themselves, appears to unpack notions of humanity more so than illustrate the speculative facets of science fiction.

First, Gallinger’s constant invoking of literary figures and allusions properly reflect his identification as a “second rate poet with a case of hubris.” Furthermore, this narrative style also serves to emphasize Gallinger’s challenge to his father’s faith; instead of becoming a missionary, the prodigious younger Gallinger chose to rebel, seek a liberal arts education, and eventually become a well-respected poet living in Greenwich Village. Ironically, it is his interactions with a dying alien society that reawakens his biblical roots. By invoking Ecclesiastes, he is able to present a positive example of struggle in the face of prophetic hopelessness. However, this does not result in his endorsing of religion or faith: Gallinger makes a point to venerate “vanity”, “pride,” and the “hubris of rationalism.” He preaches, “It is our blasphemy which has made us great, and will sustain us, and which the gods secretly admire in us.”

Several discourses of alterity can be identified within the above analysis. Most overtly, Gallinger’s dissention from religious discourse provides an alternate and more flexible way to interpret historical literature. It also addresses the issue of separating history from scripture, two elements traditionally viewed to be indistinguishable in primitive societies. Gallinger essentially highlights critical thought and western academic discipline as the major catalysts to civil and philosophical development.

The above arguments, however, are complicated by the plot twist revealed at the end of the story. That is, Gallinger’s discovery that his passionate sermon had actually fulfilled the very Martian prophecy he thought he was debunking suggests that faith can play a major role in humanity. Moreover, the paradox Gallinger identifies – that the “great paradox which lies at the heart of all miracles” is that he “[never believed a word of his own gospel]” – emphasizes the irony that he had been only acting on his own individual passions despite becoming the Martian messiah. Of course, the ultimate irony is the Braxa never loved him back.

[NOTE: sorry about how late I posted this – I screwed up and thought the posts were due at midnight and not noon.]

Rewriting Earth History on Mars

Several people have identified the relationships between this week’s readings/media and personal memory, highlighted in Total Recall. What struck me was the repetition of themes of ‘civilizational’ and social memory – and the rewriting thereof. In Total Recall and “A Rose for Ecclesiastes” there are major issues of personal memory. Gallinger breaks his account of the salvation of Mars to describe memories of his father from his youth, which are of obvious personal significance. His memories of his father, who encouraged him to become a missionary, interact with what seems his destiny as he realizes himself as the Martian’s Sacred Scoffer. Doug Quaid exists in the quandary between reality and dream state, unable to certify that his memories are his own once the possibility of memory erasure is introduced. There exists an additional layer of historical memory which, through the colonization of mars, is rewritten.

In “A Rose for Ecclesiastes,” we are introduced to a dying civilization, which has transitioned into a state of resignation because of the infertility of its males and the writings of its great historian/poet, Locar. The story itself appears an appropriation of something biblical. A desert people, living in the shadow of former opulence (Gallinger finds “Byzantine brilliance” beyond the antechamber as he begins his historical and linguistic study), its buildings likened to tents with walls decorated with animal skins. They have experienced drought and plague, and are now waiting for their savior in the form of a spiritual dissenter. Even their literature paints their very existence as a kind of disease of the inorganic. The idea of dissent, of critical thought, is what saves them (though, paradoxically, this process of questioning scripture is written into the prophecy to be questioned).

In a way this echoes the development of the United States which, perhaps for Zelazny, is successful because of its rejection of uncritical thought, and its insistence on reasoned dissent against governmental or theological convention. This intervention into the decline of Mars at the hands of blind acceptance is then a kind of revision of Western history as it descended into the dark ages of scientific stagnancy, blind faith, etc. Zelazny is providing us with a revised Jesus, sent ‘down’ from Earth, in the heavens, to Mars for its salvation. Through Gallinger we can rescue ourselves from our own past.

The conflation of time into a kind of past present is furthered as Zelazny describes the Martians as having “science, but little technology,” without providing justification for this failure to leap from one to the other, as if there could exist a type of curiosity which does not then imply manipulation of the natural world by means of knowledge gained. They are a civilization which has “done all things…seen all things…heard and felt all things,” as if valuing experience over development, as if unable to conceptualize the creation of “new experience” until Gallinger brings one to them himself.

The portrait given of Martians resembles an earlier terrestrial time point, which the entry of modern humans as prophets by virtue of their own experienced past. In Total Recall, there is a more direct relationship between the situation of the Martians, who derive from terrestrial humans, and those enslaved populations of recent memory. Here we rewrite our own history by freeing Martians from slavery summarily by eliminating the scarcity of the instrument of their slavery (air/oxygen). Here again we are give an opportunity to rewrite the history of global slavery by liberating the population of this new planet.

Mars, Martians, and Setting

Warning: This post may be slightly edited over the course of Wednesday; I have a multitude of Wednesday classes and so am posting this now for the benefit of those doing a presentation on Thursday

Mars, Life, Civilization, Ruins, Desert. In essence, these terms are all synonymous with Science Fiction depictions of Mars. I personally am fascinated by the setting and background that Science Fiction writers incorporate into their stories and thus focus on the depictions of the Red Planet rather than on the actions taken upon it. Regardless, for stories concerning Mars, its appearance and setting are critical for the plot. With a clearly visible (from both Earth-based observatories and various robotic expeditions) rocky surface, the planet is both easy to describe for SciFi authors and scarily similar to various Earth locations. Moving into the realm of fiction, another trope is that Mars is the home of alien life or the ruins they left behind after extinction.

"The Ruins of a Martian 'Port'" as claimed by non-scientific sources

Mars has quite a pedigree when it comes to Science Fiction. Arguably most famously, it was the home planet of the extraterrestrials in H. G. Wells War of the Worlds. More broadly, the assumption of technologically or magically advanced Martians living in a more Earth-like climate is a hallmark of earlier Science Fiction works (see C. S. Lewis' Space Trilogy, etc...). More often than not, the Earth was under attack by the planet's denizens, thus forming the oft-repeated scenario of "Mars Attacks!"

Unlike War of the Worlds though, modern interpretations (clearly affected by more recent NASA expeditions to the planet) see Mars as the site of alien ruins surrounded by desert rather than the home of a thriving civilization. In the video game Mass Effect, Mars is where humans discover ruins from an ancient alien empire. These "Protheans" had established a Martian outpost to observe humanity and once they disappeared from the galaxy, their technology allowed humans spread beyond the Solar System. In a parallel manner, Total Recall centers around the discovery (and the subsequent battles over the activation) of an ancient alien artifact that could terraform Mars into a habitable Eden. As a result, Total Recall is something of a bridge between the two stereotypes in that Mars was once a paradise, but fell into desertified ruin. In both cases, despite the vastly superior technology of the respective alien race, all that remains on Mars are ruins and artifacts. Regardless, the existence of life on Mars (either past or present) is never deeply questioned and appears to be assumed in most Science Fiction works.

Do we find him or simply ruins?

A Rose for Ecclesiastes provides a classic example of just such a series of beliefs. In that story, the protagonist is brought to the Red Planet to help interact with and learn from the native Martians. These Martians are faced with the immanent collapse of their civilization due to male sterility. While Gallinger's actions are somewhat independent of the setting, his musings are not. Many times he discusses the state of disrepair of the (believed last) Martian city known as Tirellian, thus providing convenient and potent imagery of a civilization falling to ruin. Moving beyond the idea of Martian ruins, the only thing Gallinger describes besides the Martians and their civilization is the unimaginably expansive desert with its biting red sand. The desert also serves as a sort of metaphor for the Martian collapse as a sufficiently capable alien race would be able to at least partially tame the desert (as humans have for centuries). Additionally, there is a certain mythos surrounding great riches lost in a literal or metaphorical sea (ex: Iram of the Pillars, lost in a sea of sand; the city of Atlantis) that allows Roger Zelazny to draw a parallel between the fading Martian civilization and tragic loss of these historical human cities. In both cases though, the planet's surface is harsh and often serves either as plot context or a symbol of the collapse of the assumed alien civilization discussed previously.

In conclusion, Mars is fascinating as a setpiece because despite the variety inherent in Science Fiction, the planet is always portrayed in one of two polar-opposite manners. Either the planet is a lush Eden (or at least sufficiently Earth-like to support technologically advanced life) populated by Martians or it is a barren red desert populated by alien ruins. Nevertheless, the fact that Mars is the subject of a pair of popular Science Fiction tropes has failed to dissuade human fascination with the planet and I expect that Mars will remain a critical element if Science Fiction for the foreseeable future.