Making Galactic Empire Great Again: A Post-Colonial Exploration
of Isaac Asimov’s Foundation and Earth
Isaac Asimov wrote Foundation and Earth in 1985 as what would be the final chronological volume in his series of “Foundation” novels, begun in 1942. For inspiration, he credited his reading of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbons (In Memory Yet Green 311). In his telling, a “galactic empire” has run its course and collapsed, sending the thousands of member systems – colonies, if you will – adrift into a future dark age. In the midst of this, a sociological experiment has been constructed: a Foundation, with a charter to overcome the momentum of events and reunify humanity long before that would otherwise naturally occur. In Foundation and Earth, this Foundation has been offered the possibility to alter their prescribed destiny by merging the whole of the galaxy into an immense collective awareness. Shaken at the question of surrendering any level of individual autonomy, a delegate (Golan Trevize) embarks on a journey to understand what such an outcome would contribute or cost. This becomes a quest for the long-forgotten planet on which humans first evolved and existed entirely on a single world, in part as a metaphor for the “coming together” such a collectivization would bring about.
Narratively, the “Foundation” stories are preceded by two other science-fiction series. These volumes, the “Robot” and “Galactic Empire” novels, were originally written discrete from one another. Asimov would connect them into a single grand arc when he returned to continue the stories decades later. Individually, these books are generally murder mysteries or political dramas, that explore certain ideas and themes important to the author. Collectively, they take place over the course of the colonization of the galaxy, the creation and demise of a central power structure, and the evolution of the relationships between the member states in the aftermath. With the whole of the series concluding in Earth, some themes specific to those earlier series are brought back, effectively widening the scope of this exploration. Characteristics of Asimov’s society resembling our own colonial underpinnings will be identified and explored – their culture as ours is built with fear as a singular ingredient; fear of the unknown, fear of the “Other”. Theirs as ours are a people facing some form of decline, struggling to overcome that weight, and looking to the past for inspiration. We will look at how Asimov brings these themes to light in his writing, and consider whether the narrative choices made remain credible in the context of modern experience.
In the (chronologically) earlier “Robot” novels, an initial wave of colonization has populated several worlds near Earth, but the societies formed are independent and resentful. These new worlds use compliant robots for many levels of manual labor, technology that has since been banned on Earth. In Foundation and Earth, these two earlier players remain, though their roles have evolved considerably. As Trevize and his companion (scholarly Janov Pelorat) search back through systems and records, they reach some of these “Spacer” worlds, these earliest breakaway colonies from the primary trunk of human society.
As Asimov portrays, the separation from the source has been traumatic. Entire worlds have been depopulated and left to ruin. On the planet of Solaria – distinctively independent even thousands of years earlier – people have evolved into bio-engineered unisexual creations. Their robots still serve them, and have become so instilled with their contemporary knowledge of “people” that they see biological humans as foreign. Both the Spacers and their creations have transitioned from exotic to demonic Others and pose a genuine threat. To Asimov’s credit, these players as exotic Others were challenges to engage with and overcome through understanding. To the credit of more average human instincts, the demonic Others’ hierarchy of needs has become so divorced from accepted humanity that our heroes must flee for their lives.
Two notable exceptions here would be the world of Alpha and the robot, R. Daneel Olivaw. Alpha has defied the trend of the other independent colony worlds and retained its inherent humanity, but has descended into a form of advanced tribalism. Laws and institutions have given way to tradition and folklore, similar to the Eloi of HG Wells’ The Time Machine, companion descendants from the peaks of society. The Alphans welcome our heroes and are accepted as distant relatives with a different perspective, then later imperil their departure for the risks that would be created for their estranged society. In our own history that dynamic has been at play; Filipinos and Indians were regarded early on Caucasian, but with qualifications that would soon discriminate them from the mainstream (Takaki). Arriving soon thereafter at their long-sought destination, they find an irradiated and uninhabitable Earth and R. Daneel. Once a manufactured slave, R. Daneel was there thousands of years earlier and had been central to the Earth’s radioactive end. Here, he is the wise and munificent über-exotic Other. He has watched over humanity from a distance for ages, stepping in to steer events along a grand path set to peak with Golan’s decision. R. Daneel’s proposition is debated, but his integrity – his humanity – is not. His motivations and his being are close enough to the norm that he is evaluated by our heroes not as a de facto threat, but instead as the “living” voice of the very history they’d sought.
Specific to Earth’s story arc are two additional “Others”, the Second Foundation and the world of Gaia. The Second Foundation operates ostensibly in secret, using engineered mental skills (this is science fiction) to steer the development of the titular Foundation. This secret society was intended all along to rule the new empire being gradually built by the Foundation, but their existence as distant-future foreign oppressors was unknown until well after the levers of power were firmly under their control. The statesmen of the Foundation railed and toiled against these distant overlords in the same footsteps as those among our colonies who opposed England hundreds of years ago. Asimov engages with these exotic Others, and they are in some ways as bewildered by the Foundation’s resentment as Britain was by ours. They only want what’s best for the Foundation worlds after all, so their own descendants will have a prosperous empire over which to rule.
The Gaians represent an altogether different and more compelling threat. As an early “proof of concept” engineered by R. Daneel on collectivization, they live in peace with one another and their world. Echoes of our native Americans are present here, as the Gaians are a society free from concerns of property or finance. The Gaian citizen who joins the heroes’ quest is an interesting choice for Asimov. Blissenobiarella (Bliss, for short) is a member of the Gaian collective and at the same time a knowingly whole individual being, confident in herself and – when the circumstances call for it – her sexuality. This leads to some uncharacteristically stilted reading where the author’s “direct, uncomplicated writing style” (Boyd) presents a straightforward caricature of what should be a very nuanced character. Her presence however reinforces their quest as following in the same postcolonial footsteps of Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. Exploring the boundaries of their experience, the two men are accompanied by a young local woman – a Sacagawea – who guides them through what they can expect in the space they seek.
Authored twenty-two years ago, there are elements of that journey’s purpose that have come to find expression in current events. Their Foundation is a dominant influence, but there is discontent. There are many who chafe at the idea of their destinies being affected by distant strangers. They long to throw off the shackles of international entanglements and put their agenda first. For inspiration they look to a poorly-understood and romanticized history, an illusory Eden where humans could be humans and were unified by common bonds and shared experience.
Today, our nation remains a preeminent agent of change, but there is discontent by men who wish they could be Men. Otherwise the circumstances – at least those described – are eerily similar. In Asimov’s conclusion, there was clarity and understanding. The past was a wasteland of shattered expectations whose glorification could never hope to serve the novel’s present. Trevize’s decision favoring an expanded Gaia – Galaxia – looks to the future and sets the many systems of humanity on a path independent of the footsteps of its colonial history. One suspects that the conclusion penned to Earth is likely more grounded in reason than will be whatever next steps appearing in our headlines. While looking to a hypothetical distant future for insight as to how current events might play out might seem on the surface analogous to astrology, Samuel Collins provides in “Sail On!” an anthropological perspective that cultures in the present can be better understood by looking to the futures they anticipate: “From the perspective of a public that only tenuously differentiates between image-laden spectacle and reality, we are already living in the future.” (Collins 181)
Reading Foundation and Earth, many of the characters’ choices ring true with what could be expected of people today. Bliss would be a notable exception with her blunt femininity, but she is perhaps excused as an exotic Other with unfamiliar customs and expectations. Her character is regarded credibly at least – the provocations and disrespect offered her by Trevize could be spoken convincingly by your average modern moody alpha male. Through a wider lens, the behaviors of the colonies during these periods of turmoil become simplified and unrealistic. Entire worlds are entrusting their destinies to the judgment of a single man, this Golan Trevize. This construct is such an idealization of representative republic that its practical application strains the story’s credibility. The world of Alpha is believed to be a haven for retaining its fundamental/true human essence after separating from the human nation – this is an achievement, after the failure of Solaria and others. At the same they are dismissed as irrelevant anachronisms. Like Wells’ Eloi, they are not of a time relevant to the hero’s concern. In the fifteen- to twenty-thousand years between Alpha’s founding and the events of Earth, society could have risen and fallen numerous times yet Asimov treats these people with a simple disrespect that is unconcerned for the reality of their struggle within his own universe.
There are differences between the dynamics of the Foundation and the reality of outgrowing colonial foundations. Notably, the subject of slavery is glossed over entirely. The cleanliness of Asimov’s universe owes to his use of robots, mechanical laborers that are programmed to be compliant and deferential. A commonality of imperial colonization is the opportunity to displace native peoples, this is another element for which Asimov’s writing evades accountability. Early in his writing career he had decided that a “human only” universe would be easier to write, limiting the unfamiliarity of his narrative “Others” by an order of magnitude.
Another key omission by Asimov is a worthy ending. Facing the choice between perpetuating the cycle of colony and empire, Trevize’s vote against is described as one of instinct. His reason is never fully explained and the novel ends with an element of mystery the author never fully resolves. He would later explain in I, Asimov the he had written himself into a corner, and couldn’t decide where to go (528). Unfortunately, that ambiguity robs the narrative of its conviction. A story, spanning thousands of years with hallmarks throughout of the American colonial experience, concludes with the directive to try something else. In the absence of a compelling reason for why – beyond a hint (ironically) as to some yet unknown still-lurking “Other” – there is no meaningful distinction or critique. The reader is left with the contradiction between the story and the words the author used to tell it.
This discrepancy may be as much a function of Asimov’s writing preferences in this universe as it is of conditions in the universe he’d created. His own decision to not write alien cultures or characters had created a human-only paradigm, with character motivations that could reasonably be expected to align with those of contemporary readers. The exclusion of a fundamentally foreign paradigm creates a vacuum in the need for change that negates the very invention his writing had come to advocate. Referring to structures of development in different societies, Arturo Escobar writes:
“At the bottom of the investigation of alternatives lies the sheer fact of cultural difference. Cultural differences embody – for better or for worse, this is relevant to the politics of research and intervention – possibilities for transforming the politics of representation, that is, for transforming social life itself. Out of hybrid or minority cultural situations might emerge other ways of building economies, of dealing with basic needs, of coming together into social groups.” (Escobar 225)
Linking this to Earth, the perspective relayed to the reader is necessarily limited. In the context of the story, human society is represented as a homogenous whole, absent significant differences. Where variation exists, those worlds are discarded as anomalies. In the context of the storytelling, the reliance on Trevize’s perspective further limits the story’s ability to present a broader view. Ultimately the absence of any known foe/oOther of consequence (for all their differences, the Second Foundation is positioned more as a political opponent) would require a more foreign and more demonic Other to motivate an undertaking on the scale Trevize is considering. Unfortunately, Asimov does not present such an agent of change to the reader and the narrative foundation is thus weakened.
The exclusion of a more ominous and existentially threatening demonic Other eases the path undertaken by Asimov’s colonial empires but it does not do away with challenge entirely. Frantz Fanon argued that “colonialism breeds psychopathology and necessitates liberatory violence,” (Keller 297) and there are reflections of that in Earth’s history. The reigning capital of the previous empire is sacked as the “Foundation” series begins, and the destruction of Earth was originally a plan formulated by resentful Spacers. This cycle is broken as centuries of momentum peak and Man’s colonies transition to a collective paradigm without any compelling need for liberatory violence against the previous paradigm.
The words chosen by Asimov in his writing of Foundation and Earth borrow heavily from historical themes. But for their uncertain repudiation at the end, their prevalence reinforces them as perceived realities in his work. The “Other” is indeed influential, but understanding remains available through engagement. The forces and consequence of empire contain the prospect for both struggle and prosperity. From these accepted realities, the choice to steer his society down a new course remains a curious one. The stories that make up the “Foundation” universe owe as much to the postcolonial American experience as does Asimov himself, having resettled from Russia at the age of three. Much of his professional success overlapped with the booming postwar years, and for a time the Foundation thrived. Years later, he would contract HIV from a tainted transfusion. Earth was written at a time when his diagnosis was fast becoming a stigmatized death sentence. His own experience in that world may have been contributing to some ambivalence about that empirical struggle[1], that tension between the parts and the whole. The direction in which he haltingly turned those stories may owe equally to the unfortunate breadth of his ongoing experience with that empire.
English 1c #10633
15 February 2017
[1] Published several months after his death in 1992, Forward the Foundation tells the story of Hari Seldon, the sociologist who engineered the creation of the Foundations. Asimov would acknowledge at the conclusion (not present for all editions) that as the key architect/creator within the stories representing his life’s work, Seldon had become his own fictional ‘alter-ego’.
References
Asimov, Isaac. Foundation and Earth. New York: Doubleday, 1985.
Asimov, Isaac. I, Asimov. Doubleday, 1994. pp528.
Asimov, Isaac. In Memory Yet Green. Doubleday, 1979. pp311.
Boyd, Andrew. University of Houston College of Engineering. 2004. http://www.uh.edu/engines/epi2563.htm.
Collins, Samuel. “Sail On! Sail On!: Anthropology, Science Fiction, and the Enticing Future.” Science Fiction Studies 30.2, 2003. pp180-198. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4241168.
Escobar, Arturo. Encountering Development: The Making and Umaking of the Third World. Princeton UP, 1995. pp225.
Keller, Richard. “Madness and Colonization: Psychiatry in the British and French Empires, 1800-1962.” Journal of Social History 35.2, 2001. pp295-326. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3790190.
Takaki, Ronald. Strangers From A Distant Shore. Little, Brown, 1998.