12 - 2010 | unobtrusive lucidity

A Review of “Snow Crash”

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Shuffled naturally into science-fiction as I was during my childhood, I grew up with the post-apocalyptic noir of the cyber-punk genre, and grew to love the visual aesthetic. I had looked forward to reading Snow Crash for some time, and was immediately drawn into frenzied pace of the first pizza delivery.

Something that good science fiction does is present a statement, often a warning, of the outcomes of current courses of events. One of the markers for good science fiction in my mind is if I’m troubled by the world presented, and can think, “I see how we get there from here.” Science fiction plays with the “what if?” that society needs to read and see to be aware of where we could be headed if we keep doing what we’re doing.

In that vein, the world that Stephenson presents is instantly captivating. Even within cyber-punk, this is the most original setting I’ve read for some time. Within these pages is a wonderful commentary on the ludicrous impulse of the American experiment to privatize everything. This is what happens if the Libertarians take power. The characters are living in the context of the anarchy that complete privatization and lack of government brings. Then, they create the Metaverse (the last peaceful place in existence), but it, too, becomes violent. Man remains unable to find himself benevolent in any way as his narcissistic collection of franchised conformity spirals out of control around him in a hail of bullets.

What took me aback about Snow Crash was the religious component. There’s a theology at work in Stephenson’s thought; a really strange, mish-mashed attempt at a theology, at least, that reaches a disappointing fruition. In cyber-punk, humanity melds itself with technology in an attempt to make it’s own eschatology. Here, Stephenson seems to make a full-blown religion out of man’s technological foray. His thrust is that modern “hackers,” or dualistic philosophers (he ties binary code to philosophical dualism), are simply the modern extension of his own little creation narrative. That creation narrative is complete with it’s own Fall narrative. And Hiro (aptly named) becomes a savior metaphor of sorts. The theology unravels, though, into a nihilism: anything spiritual is notably absent, and only the practice of religion can keep the virus (read: sin) from permanently destroying man. The sin is never defeated, only held back. This doubles back on itself, though, because he’s also painting religion as the “bad guy,” in the sense that the conspiracy for the Snow Crash virus is packaged within religious practice. He’s essentially saying that all religion, despite the fact that it’s holding this virus back, is bunk, or has become that way, as the quantifiable world rules out faith.

So, his theology is a dis-jointed one…almost a theology of an absence of theology.

While Stephenson’s imagination is energizing, his craft is disappointing to me. His writing style smacks of a Hollywood action flick, and many of the fast moving sequences of the book felt like Tron meets the Transformers. For a book considered to be (as I understood it) a modern science fiction classic, I had higher expectations. Heinlein or Asimov this guy isn’t. His characters are left extremely two-dimensional and undeveloped, although his rapid and abrupt changes in points of view do occasionally place the reader well into their psyches.

That said, there is something oddly arresting about Y.T., the skateboarding teenage professional messenger who throws out some of the most amazing lines in the story. I found her to be the only character I could completely visualize as I read the novel…the only one who truly had a face.

The best thing I took away from the book is the view of the future. As a speculative warning of what the future could hold, I think this book was excellent. And, as I said, that’s what good science fiction does. As an attempt at a metaphysical or theological statement, I think it failed miserably. Stephenson provides his backstory and ties together his loose ends well, yet still manages an ending that falls flat.

In the end, I found this book to be wanting.

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The Principle of the Thing

When I heard the statement a few weeks ago, it wasn’t the first time I’d heard it. And when I tell you about it, it won’t have been the first time you’ve heard it, either. I think it was when I heard it a few weeks ago, however, that it really solidified in my head. Or, perhaps it just re-surfaced, having been a long-standing pet peeve. Come to think of it, I’ll go with the latter.

I’ll omit the context, but it was during a keynote address at a presentation, as I recall, and the presenter encouraged those in the audience to “use” professionals in a certain field with which those in the audience frequently work. She encouraged her listeners to “use” these professionals because they are “a great resource.”

I imagine that many of my readers who are trapped in the confines of corporate America have heard that exact phrase. In fact, I’m sure it’s not confined to corporate America, or even to America. If not, think about whatever job you have, and I’m relatively certain that the employer for which you work has a “human resources” department.

Right. Because humans are resources.

I’m not just being obsessive about the minutiae of language, here. Think about this. A definition of the word “resource” renders the most natural meanings of the word as possessions, or things to be used. If we have learned anything from dark histories of slavery, gender discrimination, and human trafficking (all things that still occur in our back yards, incidentally), it’s that human beings are in no way possessions, or things to be owned. If the Christian theology upon which a great deal of our Western philosophical system is constructed has taught us nothing else, it’s that human beings are of infinite worth, regardless of ethnic background, gender, sexuality, economic status, etc. What troubles me about the concept of “human resources” is that the phraseology is coming from somewhere, a cultural philosophy or metaphysical perspective. Assuming that’s correct, then the concept of an employee being a “resource” means that the employee (typically identified by a number…I don’t find that to be a coincidence) is viewed as a possession, or thing, that is to be used for the best interest of the company. Only the voluntary nature of the employment separates this from slavery. And, even then, the central problem remains that the person is seen as an object.

In a word, he or she is de-humanized.

This is really the same phenomenon that occurs when the pornography industry plays on fantasies that are degrading to women, or that portray women as the object of some objectifying or violent act (I say women, but I should specify that it occurs to both men and women). The woman is being portrayed as an object. She is being de-humanized.

Think about it. “De-humanize.” In the American experiment, a culture in which absolutely everything is commodified to be bought or sold, it is only natural that humanity is treated similarly. In fact, everything about humanity is seen as something to be purchased and possessed, not just sexuality. Education is seen in the same light. As is the right to healthcare. And the list could go on.

Honestly, though, it occurs to me that I’ve referred to organizations or faith communities as “resources” for someone to “use.” That makes me just as guilty, because the organization or community is comprised of people. Doesn’t that make it the same thing?

This is more than just a change in language, but it starts there. Naming has power, so, if we force ourselves out of the habit of talking about people in this manner and instead referring to them in human terms, it will alter our perceptions of them. A little effort in vocabulary just might make a huge difference, both in the way we do business, and in the way we treat each other.

I’m willing to work on it. You?

Photo Attribution: Miguel Pires da Rosa

Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time…

Have you ever had one of those dreams? No, not the one where you show up at work or in class naked…I mean, that one’s stressful, too. I mean the other one…the one where you’re doing something that you know you’re not supposed to be doing, but it’s like you’re watching yourself from the outside and can’t stop yourself? Or else there’s some ridiculous series of events that has led up to what you’re doing, and you know that you don’t have a choice, but you’re scared of what’s going to happen because you’re doing it? You keep thinking, maybe I’ll get away with this, and I’ll never do it again!

You know…that dream.

I have it periodically, usually after I’ve made a mistake for which I feel really stupid. Like my recent traffic infraction that involved my driving a bit more hastily than the sign said I could, much to the nearby officer’s chagrin. After, I had the dream. The dream is always ridiculous and blown completely out of proportion. One time I dreamed I was tossed into prison for something, but couldn’t even remember what it was for, and I was trying to come to grips with how I would make it through a year of incarceration.

Okay, maybe you’ve never had that dream, but…for those of you who have, you feel my pain.

I thought it was interesting that a recent episode of Sanctuary played on that. In the episode, the team is forced to make a snap decision because they have to keep everyone in a bank inside because an alien life form has escaped the bank vault and gotten into one of them, but they aren’t sure who yet. They can’t tell the people what happened, but they have to keep them inside to figure out who is hosting the alien that will prove fatal to its host. So they fake a bank robbery. Of course, that leads to complications with the police. And the whole time, even though you know it will turn out well by the end of the hour, you’re jumpy, because you just know that the door is going to get blown and they’re going to end up in prison for something that they were doing to actually save someone’s life.

I’m not sure if that dream has ever taken the form a bank robbery in my troubled sleep before…I actually think that it may have. For a science fiction serial, though, I thought this was great conceptualization to play on that fear and feeling that you’re spinning out of control for something you’ve done, but had no choice but to do. Or, more innocently, that you did something for a noble cause with the best of intentions that you know will be perceived as wrong.

I think what’s interesting about this is that it plays on a concept of situational ethics. You remember debating those in school: it’s against the law to speed, but what if you’re taking someone who is having a baby to the hospital and they’re about to give birth? Or someone in your car is having a heart attack? Does that make it okay to break the law by speeding to get to the hospital?

I think it’s also interesting because it plays on a trust in providence. If you know you’re doing the right thing, do you trust that it will turn out for good? Or do you trust that the people you’re following are doing the right thing? Or the people following you? In the episode, Magnus and Kate begin to solidify an interesting trust relationship.

I imagine that those lines of thought would bring about some fascinating conversation in anyone’s life. And that sort of conversation is exactly what good storytelling of any genre should bring about, don’t you think?