#7 = Volume 2, Part 3 = November 1975
Ursula K. Le Guin
American SF and the Other
One of the great early socialists said that the status of women in a society
is a pretty reliable index of the degree of civilization of that society. If
this is true, then the very low status of women in SF should make us ponder
about whether SF is civilized at all.
The women's movement has made most of us conscious of the fact that SF has
either totally ignored women, or presented them as squeaking dolls subject to
instant rape by monsters—or old-maid scientists de-sexed by hypertrophy of the
intellectual organs—or, at best, loyal little wives or mistresses of
accomplished heroes. Male elitism has run rampant in SF. But is it only male
elitism? Isn't the "subjection of women" in SF merely a symptom of a
whole which is authoritarian, power-worshiping, and intensely parochial?
The question involved here is the question of The Other—the being who is
different from yourself. This being can be different from you in its sex; or in
its annual income; or in its way of speaking and dressing and doing things; or
in the color of its skin, or the number of its legs and heads. In other words,
there is the sexual Alien, and the social Alien, and the cultural Alien, and
finally the racial Alien.
Well, how about the social Alien in SF? How about, in Marxist terms,
"the proletariat"? Where are they in SF? Where are the poor, the
people who work hard and go to bed hungry? Are they ever persons, in SF?
No. They appear as vast anonymous masses fleeing from giant slime-globules from
the Chicago sewers, or dying off by the billion from pollution or radiation, or
as faceless armies being led to battle by generals and statesmen. In sword and
sorcery they behave like the walk-on parts in a high school performance of The
Chocolate Prince. Now and then there's a busty lass amongst them who is honored
by the attentions of the Captain of the Supreme Terran Command, or in a space-ship
crew there's a quaint old cook, with a Scots or Swedish accent, representing the
Wisdom of the Common Folk.
The people, in SF, are not people. They are masses, existing for one purpose:
to be led by their superiors.
From a social point of view most SF has been incredibly regressive and
unimaginative. All those Galactic Empires, taken straight from the British
Empire of 1880. All those planets—with 80 trillion miles between them!—conceived
of as warring nation-states, or as colonies to be exploited, or to be nudged by
the benevolent Imperium of Earth towards self-development—the White Man's
Burden all over again. The Rotary Club on Alpha Centauri, that's the size of it.
What about the cultural and the racial Other? This is the Alien everybody
recognizes as alien, supposed to be the special concern of SF. Well, in the old
pulp SF, it's very simple. The only good alien is a dead alien—whether he is
an Aldebaranian Mantis-Man, or a German dentist. And this tradition still
flourishes: witness Larry Niven's story "Inconstant Moon" (in All
the Myriad Ways, 1941) which has a happy ending—consisting of the fact
that America, including Los Angeles, was not hurt by a solar flare. Of course a
few million Europeans and Asians were fried, but that doesn't matter, it just
makes the world a little safer for democracy, in fact. (It is interesting that
the female character in the same story is quite brainless; her only function is
to say Oh? and Ooooh! to the clever and resourceful hero.)
Then there's the other side of the same coin. If you hold a thing to be
totally different from yourself, your fear of it may come out as hatred, or as
awe—reverence. So we get all those wise and kindly beings who deign to rescue
Earth from her sins and perils. The Alien ends up on a pedestal in a white
nightgown and a virtuous smirk—exactly as the "good woman" did in
the Victorian Age.
In America, it seems to have been Stanley Weinbaum who invented the
sympathetic alien, in A Martian Odyssey. From then on, via people like
Cyril Kornbluth, Ted Sturgeon, and Cordwainer Smith, SF began to inch its way
out of simple racism. Robots—the alien intelligence—begin to behave nicely.
With Smith, interestingly enough, the racial alien is combined with the social
alien, in the "Underpeople," and they are allowed to have a
revolution. As the aliens got more sympathetic, so did the human heroes. They
began to have emotions, as well as rayguns. Indeed they began to become almost
If you deny any affinity with another person or kind of person, if you
declare it to be wholly different from yourself—as men have done to women, and
class has done to class, and nation has done to nation—you may hate it, or
deify it; but in either case you have denied its spiritual equality, and its
human reality. You have made it into a thing, to which the only possible
relationship is a power relationship. And thus you have fatally impoverished
your own reality.
You have, in fact, alienated yourself.
This tendency has been remarkably strong in American SF. The only social
change presented by most SF has been towards authoritarianism, the domination of
ignorant masses by a powerful elite—sometimes presented as a warning, but
often quite complacently. Socialism is never considered as an alternative, and
democracy is quite forgotten. Military virtues are taken as ethical ones. Wealth
is assumed to be a righteous goal and a personal virtue. Competitive free-enterprise
capitalism is the economic destiny of the entire Galaxy. In general, American SF
has assumed a permanent hierarchy of superiors and inferiors, with rich,
ambitious, aggressive males at the top, then a great gap, and then at the bottom
the poor, the uneducated, the faceless masses, and all the women. The whole
picture is, if I may say so, curiously "un-American." It is a perfect
baboon patriarchy, with the Alpha Male on top, being respectfully groomed, from
time to time, by his inferiors.
Is this speculation? is this imagination? is this extrapolation? I call it
I think it's time SF writers—and their readers!—stopped daydreaming about
a return to the Age of Queen Victoria, and started thinking about the future. I
would like to see the Baboon Ideal replaced by a little human idealism, and some
serious consideration of such deeply radical, futuristic concepts as Liberty,
Equality, and Fraternity. And remember that about 53% of the Brotherhood of Man
is the Sisterhood of Woman.