Human Lives Matter: Racial Politics in Fantasy

(Disclaimer: I am not an anthropologist, or a social scientist.)

Black Lives Matter, the most recent crystallization of racial politics in our nation, has prompted me, among other things, to pause and question the use of race in fantasy and science-fiction, to include re-evaluating how I approach fantasy races in my Ahmbren Chronicles books. If I think about the most influential models in fantasy and science fiction which divide characters into races in such a way where racial differences and inherent natures are highlighted, I would look at Tolkien’s Middle Earth and Roddenberry’s Star Trek.

In the real world, civilization has moved through periods of time where it was (wrongfully) asserted that races had different characteristics. In the literature of our past, people of the “negroid race” were called savage. Inferior. Of animal passion.

Biologically, it’s been proven that “race” isn’t actually a thing. There is no such thing as race on a genetic level. The color of our skin is no more an indication of aptitude, character, or morality than the color of our hair or eyes. I share with the author of the linked article that I also didn’t learn that race isn’t “real” in the biological sense until I was in college.

Race is a thing, I would propose, in the social sense. A combination of ethnicity, physical characteristics, and a line of ancestors extending back through particular cultures to particular geographic regions. There is a racial effect, an experience, we all have, and each of our racial experiences are different from the other races. To be Caucasian in the world (anywhere in the world) means we will have a different cause-effect response from the cultural system than if we are Black, or Asian, or Semitic. The level of difference, and whether our race gives us advantage or disadvantage depends on the area of the world. In most instances, being white in Europe or North American presents a certain set of advantages. Being Caucasian in Asia, the Middle-East, or Africa provides an opportunity to be the outsider, with what that might mean across a wide spectrum of experience. To be non-Caucasian in Europe or North America also leads to a different paradigm than if one were Caucasian. So, even though race isn’t real from a biological perspective, it would be false to say it’s not real from an experiential and cultural perspective.

So what does this have to do with fantasy fiction?

First, let’s look at Tolkien and Roddenberry. Two writers who created concepts of race to help define their characters, and two writers who approached it from completely opposite perspectives.

Tolkien took concepts from British and European folklore and solidified them into the foundational tropes of modern fantasy: elves, dwarves, humans, orcs, and halflings. Dungeons and Dragons built on this, and a great many fantasy books, my own included, inherit from this legacy. In Tolkien, race matters. I mean, it matter a lot. The elves truly are better and superior than the other races, simply by virtue of being elves. Dwarves are more susceptible to greed because they are dwarvish (there’s even a view that Tolkien’s anti-semitism manifested in his design of the dwarves, where he stated that they were based off of [his stereotypes about] the Jewish people). Humans are easily corrupted because they are human (which is fine if you think of the problems of mortalkind and the temptations of power, but Tolkien makes this a racial thing… and I’m not even going to get into the fact that Tolkien’s black humans all throw in with Sauron). And Frodo is able to resist the ring’s power long enough to complete the mission because it is a characteristic of hobbits. In summary, though Tolkien did have variance in his characters due to their morale center (e.g., Boromir and Faramir made different choices when it came to the Ring), his characters were defined first and foremost by their race.

Roddenberry took the opposite approach. First, although Star Trek correctly Humans, Klingons, and Vulcans as different species, they are, in my opinion, analogous to races for all practical purposes. Because Star Trek has always been socially aware. Roddenberry deliberately wanted to show the commonality in his races, that no matter how alien they were, they still had faces and eyes that express human emotion. Kirk tells Spock at some point, “We’re all human, Spock.” Roddenberry believed in the shared experience of the soul (my words/interpretation) and the common bond of human experience. In Star Trek, races are much more treated as different cultures (assigned to different physical costuming), but the heroes are heroes because of shared moral values based on a universal philosophy (the needs of the many) rather than by virtue of their race; the villains are villainous because of evil values based on a universal philosophy (disregard for suffering in exchange for personal or political gain) that transcends racial and cultural boundaries. In other words, the characters shape who they are based on choices rather than being defined by their race.

To bring this back to fantasy and my treatment of race in Ahmbren, I find myself increasingly uncomfortable with my approach to race. Now that I think about it, I was influenced by Tolkien’s approach. I did not pattern my races on real-world stereotypes, and I believe Ahmbren is more nuanced and socially aware than Middle Earth (I also studied, metaphorically, at the feet of Roddenbery, and wanted to make my elves and orcs more “human” than Tolkien did). But there is still a fundamental racial influence on my characters. When I started building my world, I decided to make each race’s character focused around a question they held to be their ultimate philosophical question. They were as follows:

  • Sidhe (elf): What is beauty? What is perfection?
  • Human: What is useful? What is practical?
  • Ratling: What is profitable? What is negotiable?
  • Gnome: What is possible?
  • Orc: What is heroic?
  • Dwarf: What is valuable? What can I make of value?
  • Troll: What is correct?
  • Seelie (elf): What is natural? What is true?
  • Troglodyte: What can I endure? What can I survive?

This was great from a story-building perspective, because it gave me a guide post on how those races’ cultures interacted, and what inherently motivated the personalities of the characters.

And yet, I’m now bothered by this, at how fundamentally a kind of racism is built into my world. Even if it is with fictional races. Based on the world I’ve built, I can’t just wipe it away and say all those races are the same, because in this world, race has biological reality. Trolls and ratlings are physically different from elves and humans. Sidhe elves cannot cross-breed with humans (biologically incompatible), and this doesn’t even account for the wolven (werewolves) and vampires, which also have racial characteristics that fundamentally shape their character and personality. (If sunlight kills you and you must drink human blood to survive, it will have a definite impact on your personality and character).

At this point, those biological differences are baked into the world design. I could write this off as fiat accompli at this point. Except that in the story, it also presents itself as cultural differences. Which means the reader is going to unconsciously experience the racial differences much the same way we perceive racial differences in the real world: along the lines of culture and ethnicity… because I’ve explicitly made all the races human-like (a la Roddenberry), but perhaps mismatched upon a Tolkienesque structure.

I doing so, I feel I’m doing a disservice to the reader. Why? Why do I think this is dangerous? Because I’m encouraging a mode of thinking, of mental experience, in the reader that reinforces the idea of race (as distinct from culture) as having a defining effect on the moral character, preferences, and aptitude of a person.

And I don’t like that one bit.

How to address this? By having my characters start to challenge this notion. I wrote a scene today where I call out the fundamental racial “Prime Questions”. I attribute that to an in-world philospher, and I allow the character to challenge that. In essence, I took a choice made in world-building, projected that choice into the world as an “understanding” within the world, and in doing so, I can start to change the world from within. (Is there some hidden wisdom in here?)

In this scene, when Tomly states the evidence “is in all our cultures”, I’m deliberately alluding to the logic of Mein Kampf, to state that to judge a person’s inherent worth (genetic or biological) based on any particular culture leads to the ultimate in evil and suffering (i.e., the concentration camps). Although this story doesn’t deal with concentration camps, this “Nazi light” that I’m shining on Tomly is the first indication in the book to Joy that something is fundamentally wrong with him. And although Joy (Meara) doesn’t know of Hitler, or Mein Kampf, the reader may pick up on this. And Joy can recognize the rationale is fundamentally flawed and deceptive. And as her mother, Aradma, said at the end of When Dragons Die: Evil is that which conceals the fundamental truth of the universe. Therefore, this is her first real clue that Tomly is evil (the reader already knows this from the prologue).

Here’s the scene (unedited draft):

“Do you think each race is bound to such a philosophy?” Joy asked. “Those questions were written by a historian. He didn’t include all races, and in the end they are one person’s opinion.” Darklings and wolven were offshoot races of humans, and assigned the same question. Gorgons weren’t known about at the time, and vampires didn’t exist yet. “It’s not as if such ‘Prime Questions’ were prescribed by the gods.” She tucked her hair back behind her ears as if it were distracting her from her work, purposefully revealing her dead eye in the process.

He paused. He frowned. “Yes,” he finally admitted. “I do. I think the evidence is in all our cultures. The kind of civilization we produce flows from our nature.”

She gripped her paintbrush. She wanted to stab him with the pointy end. “Couldn’t our cultures have simply been the natural unfolding of history?” She asked. “The accident of our birth? The circumstances of our peoples? I don’t think those questions are universally binding.”

“You mean we have no inherent nature?”

She took a deep breath. Maybe she could change his mind.

“Everyone has natural tendencies,” she said. “But culture shapes us even more. I think Epiphontiles confused race for culture. Perhaps each person has inclinations and tendencies inherited from their parents.” She pointed to her canvas. “I can paint on white linen or black linen. There’s red linen and blue linen, or any base color I’d like to start with. Perhaps that is race. To a certain extent, the nature of our mortal creature, our bodies, are different. Ratling fur, gorgon eyes, human apishness, troll tusks, elf lifespans… If the color of the linen is my race, the pigments available on my palette is my culture. The brush strokes are my choices. I can be born into other cultures and have a different palette. Queen Seonna’s seelie children have an orcish palette, I would wager. Or I can visit other cultures and add to my palette, like I’m doing now. With enough paint and depending on the choices of my brush strokes, I can paint a dwarven vista on elven linen. Or a human portrait on gnomish linen. So no, I don’t think such questions are racially binding, and in the end I believe we’re all people. The mortal races are all rational with the capacity for choice, and that commonality of spirit runs deeper than the accident of our birth. And at the end of the day, even all the varieties of linen we use starts the same tan color before it’s dyed or bleached to become a canvas.”

So, I hope I’ve planted a seed that allows Ahmbren to grow beyond it’s racially flawed construction. One of the saving graces of Ahmbren is that I’ve set very little in stone about the understanding of the world, and that the understanding reflects the characters’ understanding (of Ahmbren’s history, religion, or metaphysics). Thus as characters grow and change, the understanding and experience of Ahmbren can also change without destroying the integrity of Ahmbren herself.

Ultimately, this is one of the things I enjoy most about fantasy writing and world building. It allows me an avenue to continually grow and examine my own beliefs and views, challenging them from multiple angles.

Until next time!

Kyle

Does Magic Retard Science? (Only in Real Life)

Summary: Ahmbren’s treatment of the interplay between magic and science: they advance each other. Magic stimulates scientific discovery, and continues to flourish in a scientifically advancing (steam-age) world.

When Dragons Die has been out for some time now, and its prequel, Myth and Incarnation will be out this October. WDD set the stage for Ahmbren’s transition into a full steampunk era, and M&I went back to classical high-fantasy. Now that I’m looking ahead to WDD’s sequels, I’m looking to amplify the steam-age technology and culture, and I’m forced to reflect upon how Ahmbren deals with the mixture of technology and magic.

In the fantasy community, there’s a discussion that surfaces from time to time as to why fantasy worlds, with tens of thousands of years of history, never develop guns, cars, or other technology. This usually crystalizes to a discussion as to how magic affects the development of technology, and its corollary, technology affects the practice of magic.

One common explanation—usually by gamemasters telling their players why they can’t have their hobbit go out and mix the ingredients for gunpowder—is that with magic around, no one has the incentive for scientific discovery. Or, if the world building allows for this, the elite ruling wizard class  suppresses any inventiveness to preserve their power. Or (I guess if you’re Tolkien), as soon as you start to invent things like machinery and industry, you’re enslaved by the Lord of the Rings. (I’m looking at you Saruman). I’ve never been satisfied with any of these, so I designed Ahmbren with a different twist on things… more on that in a second.

The flip side: I’ve heard arguments that once technology is developed, magic takes a back seat and fades into oblivion… usually because learning to throw a fireball down the street is both more difficult than learning to fire a six-shooter, and tactically less feasible. While both of these reasons are sound, I don’t buy the notion that these factors would cause magic to fade away.

However, The Ahmbren Chronicles explores real-world themes in its stories, albeit in a fantasy setting. In the real world, belief in false-ideas (such as magic, or the supernatural, or…) retards scientific discovery and advancement. Clinging to beliefs in the absence of evidence hampers skeptical inquiry and a rigorous method of testing and exploring the natural world around us. But this is because, in the real world, magic isn’t real. One of the axioms that I baked into Ahmbren’s world design:

Placing ideas and ideologies over truth retards discovery and advancement.

In Ahmbren, however, magic is real (as are the gods). So, I had the challenge of still accounting for long periods of time where technology didn’t advance. I fixated on the idea that false belief stifles advancement, but in Ahmbren’s case it’s the belief in either false gods, or following the false-teachings of real gods. Placing ideology and imposed rules ahead of freedom to explore and discover.

So, then, what about magic? When people in Ahmbren escape the influence of religion, science takes off. This is illustrated explicitly in the case of gnomes, a wizard race of tinkerers. They have a keen interest in scientific discovery, and they use their magical means to enhance their process of discovery and crafting. They don’t have the benefit of industry to create wondrous non-magical materials (nanotech-like, or other weird but natural, non-magic substances), but they do have alchemy. They do have spells that help them reveal the underlying math of the universe, which, once known, they can apply in non magical ways. They’ll use magic to build it, but their greatest achievements (which tickles them pink) are to create items that people would swear have magical properties, but are completely mundane in the end. Such as soft armor that stiffens on impact, or swords that cannot break.

But what happens to magic when guns are prevalent in the world, and steamships soar the skies?

So… there are people in the world today that still believe in, and attempt to practice magic, even in the face of our own technology. With belief in magic and the paranormal as prevalent as it is, it would remain even more so in a world like Ahmbren, where magic is demonstrably real. There would always be artisans who explore magic or its own sake. There would always be hobbyists, artists, hackers, and those who continue to supplement scientific discovery. Just because summoning a fireball spell isn’t as efficient as a revolver doesn’t mean a spell to deflect bullets wouldn’t be useful. Or a spell to enchant the gun for better aim. Or spells to simply create bullets which explode on impact… etc, etc. Technology might change the nuance of how magic is used, but wizards aren’t going away in Ahmbren anytime soon.

So, Ahmbren’s world-building axioms of magic and tech:

Magic unrestricted by religion allows the explosion of non-magic science and technology.

and

In a technological world, magic will flourish as a specialized discipline, and as an artistic pursuit.

Oh, and one more world building axiom when it comes to tech, just to keep Ahmbren’s flavor focused (and perhaps, this is a bit of an artificiality):

Ahmbren’s technology won’t feature any petrol tech. Electrical gadgets are allowed; electronics are not.

Until next time!
Kyle