Dear Diarrhea,
I will start a new chapter today. After a brief introduction of a couple relevant works, I would like to discuss the overlaps and conflicts in the definitions of posthumanism and transhumanism. Both expressions represent an idea of a future beyond the current form of humanity, but there are differences minor and not so minor that set the two apart.
There are multiple sides to this subject. One perspective of transhumanists sets the definition of posthuman as something perpetually prospective: since we do and will always define our current selves in the constant evolutional process as human, posthuman is consequently the step (any and all of the steps) beyond our present status, and is therefore by necessity a purely hypothetical concept. In this train of thought, the concept of transhuman simply stands in for human: each individual iteration of the homo sapiens sapiens is an element in transition from a (pre-)human phase to a posthuman one. Humanity is broken down into the binary of "this is who we are" and "this is who we can become," presenting the possible effects of new resources, including the renewing forms of the human body, on human behavior, thought, and nature.
A somewhat opposite perspective of posthumanism, though along similar lines, is the notion that we have always already been posthuman. As human culture and identity are built from the past, we are always, at any given moment, beyond what we think of as human. All points of reference by which we set the standards of humanity are already outdated, therefore we are, and have always been posthuman. In this frame of reference, the evolutionary process is incidental, if instrumental to having made us who we are; it is not a predictor of who we will be, and that question itself bears no relevance in this posthumanist perspective: the past exists outside the realm of the hypothetical, and therefore lends itself to more worthwhile analysis than the mere what ifs of the transhumanism.
A different way of understanding posthumanism is to consider it an un-anthropocentric model, the aim of which is to move as far past humanism as possible. It considers the human a social and cultural construct, the end product of its environment; and regardless of physical appearance or biological mechanics, this definition of human withstands all evolutionary change. This definition has the benefit of including radically different voices as human: people across the whole spectrum of sexuality, nationality, ethnicity, social status and economic standing qualify as equally human, if not equal in other respects. In addition, the definition also extends to physical augmentation, body swapping, all manner of robotics, and everything else potentially possible as scientific advancements open new doors. In effect, this approach to posthumanism, in concerning itself with the nature of humanity, provides such a broad definition as to be able to view a far broader context of relevant identifiers and contributors to human nature than many other strands of humanism.
In essence, we can summarize the two philosophies thus: transhumanism treats humanity as essentially a product of its own past, and the producer of its own future, and makes humanity's future the target of its analysis; whereas posthumanism concerns itself with the notion of humanity in the present tense, claiming it a product of its surroundings, acknowledging the influence of the past only as an environmental factor alongside many other equally significant contributors.
Thank you for reading, dear Diearrhea. With that, I leave you.
Best Regards,
-Márton Körtesi.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Greg Egan pt. 3
Dear Diarrhea,
Today's topic is Greg Egan's short story The Extra, a futuristic take on The Picture of Dorian Gray that explores the the dangers of pride, the unexpected consequences of untested technology, and the moral and social implications of breeding organ donors. The story features the extras, but in a far less advanced stage than in Closer.
The story follows the life of the wealthy but aging playboy Daniel Gray who indulges in all manner of debauchery, and consequently his body is in increasing need of maintenance. However, a solution to his problems is at hand: from early in his life, he has exploited the existence of a technology that enables the creation of live organ donors called extras through a genetic modification of human embryos. These extras have minimal awareness and intelligence to the point that they are considered mere empty bodies; thus, the moral reprehensibility of their use as carriers of livers, hearts and lungs for those who can afford it is much less connected to the issue of personhood.
So, thanks to the existence of extras cloned from his genes ten years apart by the dozens, Gray has a virtually unlimited pool of virtually unused organs of various ages available at his leisure: liver failure, lung cancer, heart conditions are no more a concern for him than the simple failure of an expendable household appliance.
However, the overall condition of his body cannot be sustained through the constant changing of individual organs; alongside health issues, there is the matter of fitness: muscle transplants, fat reduction, and so on. Research is ongoing for a simpler solution, a single transplant replacing the myriad of tinier individual fixes. If it was possible to transfer Gray's consciousness directly to a healthy extra, then all he would have to do in order to sustain his decadent lifestyle beyond the capacities of his body would be to occasionally switch to a new one.
With this idea on the table, the social stigma on extras enters into the equation. Extras are not considered people: they have just enough cognitive abilities to manage motor functions, but beyond that, they are designed to be as empty as possible. Since they are used as organ donors and not substitute bodies, the idea of Gray in an extra body is shocking, offensive, and disorienting. That Gray not only embraces but seeks this kind of reaction could be considered a redeeming quality: pushing the boundaries of social taboos may well pave the way to further social and scientific advances.
With a pending lawsuit against Gray, the issue of legality also comes into play. Since the law hasn't had any reason up to this point to acknowledge extras as legal entities, it doesn't; Gray plans on blatantly exploiting that, showing up at court with a new body and taking the old body with the mind of an extra in it. With no laws and no precedent, the court will have no choice but to charge the extra, leaving Gray alone. Again, as with the social stigma, this kind of selfish exploitation of legal loopholes might be considered positive: by setting the precedent of a full consciousness in an extra's body, the law will be forced to change in accordance and set the criteria for legal personhood along something other than biological markers.
However, the story doesn't follow that side of the issue; we are merely made aware of Gray's plans to taunt society and evade the law, we aren't shown the execution of these plans. As the transplant finally takes place, the narration passes to a fragment of Gray's consciousness that remains in the old body; while the operation was apparently successful, with the new body exhibiting all of the old Gray's traits, the old body contains a consciousness that has the memories and mental faculties of Gray combined with the extra's grasp of motor and speech functions. In effect, the narrating Gray is trapped in a defunct body with no way to communicate his travesty.
So there you have it, dear Diarrhea. The story of a corrupt soul's quest for immortality foiled by imperfect technology--a perfect rip-off of Dorian Gray, except with science instead of higher powers. Does this story have a moral? Yes. It's not that these proposed technological advances have a negative impact on society, as more conservative minds might read; rather, it is that moral bankruptcy coupled with unlimited resources is bound to cause trouble.
With that charming gem of ersatz truthery, I leave you until next week.
So long,
-Márton Körtesi.
Today's topic is Greg Egan's short story The Extra, a futuristic take on The Picture of Dorian Gray that explores the the dangers of pride, the unexpected consequences of untested technology, and the moral and social implications of breeding organ donors. The story features the extras, but in a far less advanced stage than in Closer.
The story follows the life of the wealthy but aging playboy Daniel Gray who indulges in all manner of debauchery, and consequently his body is in increasing need of maintenance. However, a solution to his problems is at hand: from early in his life, he has exploited the existence of a technology that enables the creation of live organ donors called extras through a genetic modification of human embryos. These extras have minimal awareness and intelligence to the point that they are considered mere empty bodies; thus, the moral reprehensibility of their use as carriers of livers, hearts and lungs for those who can afford it is much less connected to the issue of personhood.
So, thanks to the existence of extras cloned from his genes ten years apart by the dozens, Gray has a virtually unlimited pool of virtually unused organs of various ages available at his leisure: liver failure, lung cancer, heart conditions are no more a concern for him than the simple failure of an expendable household appliance.
However, the overall condition of his body cannot be sustained through the constant changing of individual organs; alongside health issues, there is the matter of fitness: muscle transplants, fat reduction, and so on. Research is ongoing for a simpler solution, a single transplant replacing the myriad of tinier individual fixes. If it was possible to transfer Gray's consciousness directly to a healthy extra, then all he would have to do in order to sustain his decadent lifestyle beyond the capacities of his body would be to occasionally switch to a new one.
With this idea on the table, the social stigma on extras enters into the equation. Extras are not considered people: they have just enough cognitive abilities to manage motor functions, but beyond that, they are designed to be as empty as possible. Since they are used as organ donors and not substitute bodies, the idea of Gray in an extra body is shocking, offensive, and disorienting. That Gray not only embraces but seeks this kind of reaction could be considered a redeeming quality: pushing the boundaries of social taboos may well pave the way to further social and scientific advances.
With a pending lawsuit against Gray, the issue of legality also comes into play. Since the law hasn't had any reason up to this point to acknowledge extras as legal entities, it doesn't; Gray plans on blatantly exploiting that, showing up at court with a new body and taking the old body with the mind of an extra in it. With no laws and no precedent, the court will have no choice but to charge the extra, leaving Gray alone. Again, as with the social stigma, this kind of selfish exploitation of legal loopholes might be considered positive: by setting the precedent of a full consciousness in an extra's body, the law will be forced to change in accordance and set the criteria for legal personhood along something other than biological markers.
However, the story doesn't follow that side of the issue; we are merely made aware of Gray's plans to taunt society and evade the law, we aren't shown the execution of these plans. As the transplant finally takes place, the narration passes to a fragment of Gray's consciousness that remains in the old body; while the operation was apparently successful, with the new body exhibiting all of the old Gray's traits, the old body contains a consciousness that has the memories and mental faculties of Gray combined with the extra's grasp of motor and speech functions. In effect, the narrating Gray is trapped in a defunct body with no way to communicate his travesty.
So there you have it, dear Diarrhea. The story of a corrupt soul's quest for immortality foiled by imperfect technology--a perfect rip-off of Dorian Gray, except with science instead of higher powers. Does this story have a moral? Yes. It's not that these proposed technological advances have a negative impact on society, as more conservative minds might read; rather, it is that moral bankruptcy coupled with unlimited resources is bound to cause trouble.
With that charming gem of ersatz truthery, I leave you until next week.
So long,
-Márton Körtesi.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Greg Egan pt. 2
Dear Diarrhea,
I will continue discussing the interconnected short stories of Greg Egan today.
Last time, I talked about Learning to Be Me, which discusses the merits of and the questions regarding identity raised by the Ndoli device. As outlined in last weeks post, this device follows the neural activity of the biological brain from birth onwards, creating a perfect duplicate that can take the place of the brain without any external signs of change. This week's post will be about the short story Closer, in which the Ndoli device is not itself the object of scrutiny, but rather a mere facilitator of an otherwise impossible experiment.
As with many of Egan's short stories, the plot of Closer depends on concepts whose explanation is focal to the development of tension, leading to text that is more like an internal monologue than a conventional plot-driven storytelling narrative. The focal issue being discussed is the question of perception and consciousness, and whether it is possible or desirable to truly understand someone else's perspective--if such even exists. For the reader to understand the weight of this solipsistic notion and the necessity of the solution process in which, among others, the Ndoli device plays a significant role, the narrator has to outline his inner struggle through a whole lifetime leading up to the relationship in which the chance for resolution finally surfaces.
The narrator's relationship with a woman is completely altered by a chance to meet her consciousness halfway--through an experimental technique involving the modulation of the Ndoli devices, two identical gender-neutral extras (empty human bodies) and two identical rooms, two people can share the exact same experience for eight hours. Their devices are altered so that the consciousness experiencing those eight hours is exactly halfway between the two participants' individual consciousnesses. To the narrator, this carries great impact because while it doesn't completely give him someone else's perspective, it gives him a perspective other than that of his own--or rather, as the narration of the eight hours implies, a perspective both of his own and of his girlfriend's.
In the end, though, it is posited that intimate and thorough knowledge on the level of immediate thoughts is disruptive, if not to all relationships, then certainly to the kind, such as the one between the narrator and his girlfriend, that is built on the enjoyment of mystery. This may seem a redundant statement, of course, but I think that the enjoyment of mystery can be translated comfortably as the quest towards intimate knowledge--once the quest has been fulfilled, the relationship has reached its natural end.
I guess that's it for today. Until next time, I'm unreservedly yours,
-Márton Körtesi.
I will continue discussing the interconnected short stories of Greg Egan today.
Last time, I talked about Learning to Be Me, which discusses the merits of and the questions regarding identity raised by the Ndoli device. As outlined in last weeks post, this device follows the neural activity of the biological brain from birth onwards, creating a perfect duplicate that can take the place of the brain without any external signs of change. This week's post will be about the short story Closer, in which the Ndoli device is not itself the object of scrutiny, but rather a mere facilitator of an otherwise impossible experiment.
As with many of Egan's short stories, the plot of Closer depends on concepts whose explanation is focal to the development of tension, leading to text that is more like an internal monologue than a conventional plot-driven storytelling narrative. The focal issue being discussed is the question of perception and consciousness, and whether it is possible or desirable to truly understand someone else's perspective--if such even exists. For the reader to understand the weight of this solipsistic notion and the necessity of the solution process in which, among others, the Ndoli device plays a significant role, the narrator has to outline his inner struggle through a whole lifetime leading up to the relationship in which the chance for resolution finally surfaces.
The narrator's relationship with a woman is completely altered by a chance to meet her consciousness halfway--through an experimental technique involving the modulation of the Ndoli devices, two identical gender-neutral extras (empty human bodies) and two identical rooms, two people can share the exact same experience for eight hours. Their devices are altered so that the consciousness experiencing those eight hours is exactly halfway between the two participants' individual consciousnesses. To the narrator, this carries great impact because while it doesn't completely give him someone else's perspective, it gives him a perspective other than that of his own--or rather, as the narration of the eight hours implies, a perspective both of his own and of his girlfriend's.
In the end, though, it is posited that intimate and thorough knowledge on the level of immediate thoughts is disruptive, if not to all relationships, then certainly to the kind, such as the one between the narrator and his girlfriend, that is built on the enjoyment of mystery. This may seem a redundant statement, of course, but I think that the enjoyment of mystery can be translated comfortably as the quest towards intimate knowledge--once the quest has been fulfilled, the relationship has reached its natural end.
I guess that's it for today. Until next time, I'm unreservedly yours,
-Márton Körtesi.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Greg Egan
Dear Diarrhea,
Today I'm going to start covering some of the post- and transhumanist fiction I've been perusing of late. First up is a handful of short stories.
The interconnected short stories Learning to Be Me, Closer and The Extra, by Greg Egan, appear to take place within the same universe, although at various times in that universe, not depicting a linear progression or any narrative relationship other than the consistency of the framework. Each one is centered around a unique issue of the nature of identity, perception, society and interpersonal relationships.
Learning to Be Me posits the emergence of a device, dubbed the Ndoli device, that maps and mimics the neural activity of the biological brain, and that can eventually, with enough preparation, be switched with the biological brain without any inconsistency in the outward perception of personality or intellect. The short story is written in a first person narrative, taking the narrator, one of the first generation of humans born into the use of the Ndoli device, through the process of life as altered by the presence of an electronic back-up brain.
Questions are raised: whether the two identical intellects of the biological brain and the attached Ndoli jewel are philosophically and legally the same, or just merely identical twins with a completely overlapping pool of experiences and thoughts; whether the feeling of nervousness upon the coming switch to the jewel is just the diminishing but not completely vanished social imprint of a pre-Ndoli environment on the narrator; and whether the questionable revelation of the narrator's identity as the jewel instead of the biological mind sheds any of the story in a new light.
While Egan doesn't strive to answer these questions, he does at least ask them, and I feel that he approaches the subject in the exact manner I would want a curious mind to approach it. He poses those questions that spark further curiosity in the subject instead of searching for conclusions based in our current understanding of self. I take this open-minded approach as an implicit endorsement of posthuman ideology, with reservations pending suitable answers to the issues raised.
I take my leave for now with that, and I'm going to go on to take a look at The Extra next week. The third week of Greg Egan will cover Closer, concluding that section.
May thoughts of warm embrace feed your soul,
-Márton Körtesi.
Today I'm going to start covering some of the post- and transhumanist fiction I've been perusing of late. First up is a handful of short stories.
The interconnected short stories Learning to Be Me, Closer and The Extra, by Greg Egan, appear to take place within the same universe, although at various times in that universe, not depicting a linear progression or any narrative relationship other than the consistency of the framework. Each one is centered around a unique issue of the nature of identity, perception, society and interpersonal relationships.
Learning to Be Me posits the emergence of a device, dubbed the Ndoli device, that maps and mimics the neural activity of the biological brain, and that can eventually, with enough preparation, be switched with the biological brain without any inconsistency in the outward perception of personality or intellect. The short story is written in a first person narrative, taking the narrator, one of the first generation of humans born into the use of the Ndoli device, through the process of life as altered by the presence of an electronic back-up brain.
Questions are raised: whether the two identical intellects of the biological brain and the attached Ndoli jewel are philosophically and legally the same, or just merely identical twins with a completely overlapping pool of experiences and thoughts; whether the feeling of nervousness upon the coming switch to the jewel is just the diminishing but not completely vanished social imprint of a pre-Ndoli environment on the narrator; and whether the questionable revelation of the narrator's identity as the jewel instead of the biological mind sheds any of the story in a new light.
While Egan doesn't strive to answer these questions, he does at least ask them, and I feel that he approaches the subject in the exact manner I would want a curious mind to approach it. He poses those questions that spark further curiosity in the subject instead of searching for conclusions based in our current understanding of self. I take this open-minded approach as an implicit endorsement of posthuman ideology, with reservations pending suitable answers to the issues raised.
I take my leave for now with that, and I'm going to go on to take a look at The Extra next week. The third week of Greg Egan will cover Closer, concluding that section.
May thoughts of warm embrace feed your soul,
-Márton Körtesi.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
A Review of the Post-Human Manifesto
Dear Diarrhea,
today I will review the manifesto of the Post-Human Movement, written by Steve Nichols and first published in 1988 in Games Monthly magazine. While it is relatively short, speaks only in general of the philosophy of posthumanism, and does a poor job of defining its terms clearly and in detail, it is, as far as I am aware at this point in time, the first published attempt at presenting something resembling a unified set of goals for the movement of post- and transhumanism.
In the first section, titled "ROBOTS," Nichols makes the argument that the social and technological advances of the 20th century have produced resources that humanity in its current state cannot fully exploit. The title suggests that robotics are the solution, but the body of the text doesn't elaborate whatsoever--whether Nichols was thinking of the cybernetic augmentation of our flesh and blood bodies, the transferal of our consciousness to a mechanical host, or the delegation of responsibilities to artificial intelligences as the solution to inadequate use of our potential, he merely alludes to it in the extremely vague sentence of "[a]t last, a software upgrade is available!"
Then, he goes on to suggest that transcending our current state of being is an inevitable evolutionary step, and that the idea has been present in philosophy for millennia in various forms; that the dissolution of the ego in Buddhism, the Egyptian Pharaohs' notion of superiority over the hoi polloi, the Übermensch of Nietzsche are all different tellings of the same story. In a sense, this is accurate, as all these advocate a higher state as the norm in the future of humanity; however, these different philosophies all have different ideas of the details of that higher state. Nichols never attempts to reconcile the Buddhist stripping of identity with the self-centered amorality of the Übermensch; and if his goal was merely to illustrate the similarity in the wish to transcend human existence, he neglects to set his own ideal for the next step.
The conclusion is just a marketing bid, therefore it is not relevant to this review; perhaps, though, the advertised leaflet, The Primal Eye explains those issues that this so-called manifesto seems to avoid.
For now, let this be enough; I will see what I can find for you next week. Maybe we'll see more of Steve Nichols' thoughts.
I leave you warming by the flame of my undying love until next time,
-Márton Körtesi.
today I will review the manifesto of the Post-Human Movement, written by Steve Nichols and first published in 1988 in Games Monthly magazine. While it is relatively short, speaks only in general of the philosophy of posthumanism, and does a poor job of defining its terms clearly and in detail, it is, as far as I am aware at this point in time, the first published attempt at presenting something resembling a unified set of goals for the movement of post- and transhumanism.
In the first section, titled "ROBOTS," Nichols makes the argument that the social and technological advances of the 20th century have produced resources that humanity in its current state cannot fully exploit. The title suggests that robotics are the solution, but the body of the text doesn't elaborate whatsoever--whether Nichols was thinking of the cybernetic augmentation of our flesh and blood bodies, the transferal of our consciousness to a mechanical host, or the delegation of responsibilities to artificial intelligences as the solution to inadequate use of our potential, he merely alludes to it in the extremely vague sentence of "[a]t last, a software upgrade is available!"
Then, he goes on to suggest that transcending our current state of being is an inevitable evolutionary step, and that the idea has been present in philosophy for millennia in various forms; that the dissolution of the ego in Buddhism, the Egyptian Pharaohs' notion of superiority over the hoi polloi, the Übermensch of Nietzsche are all different tellings of the same story. In a sense, this is accurate, as all these advocate a higher state as the norm in the future of humanity; however, these different philosophies all have different ideas of the details of that higher state. Nichols never attempts to reconcile the Buddhist stripping of identity with the self-centered amorality of the Übermensch; and if his goal was merely to illustrate the similarity in the wish to transcend human existence, he neglects to set his own ideal for the next step.
The conclusion is just a marketing bid, therefore it is not relevant to this review; perhaps, though, the advertised leaflet, The Primal Eye explains those issues that this so-called manifesto seems to avoid.
For now, let this be enough; I will see what I can find for you next week. Maybe we'll see more of Steve Nichols' thoughts.
I leave you warming by the flame of my undying love until next time,
-Márton Körtesi.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
X-Men
Dear Diarrhea,
to start off, I would like to mention a couple pieces of pop culture that contain elements of post- or transhuman philosophy. This first post will be concerned with the incredibly prolific and widely known comic series about mutants in a contemporary world: X-Men.
It's easy to dismiss X-Men as a childish fantasy of buff men and big breasted women in tight spandex battling Evil with ridiculous superhuman powers, but while it's undeniable that there's a certain element of all that involved, the series has always had considerable depth, even from the early beginnings. We of the Y generation have largely thought of the Golden Age of comics as silly and vapid, and of the darker and grittier nineties and aughties reboots like Batman, Superman and plenty others as the true art of this genre in contrast, but perhaps there's more to some of the early stuff than one might bother to think.
Since everyone knows at least the bare minimum about the X-Men franchise, I'm not going to bother with a thorough introduction of its past and present. The long and short of it is this: in the Marvel multiverse (the collection of fictional parallel universes told of in the comics of Marvel Worldwide, Inc.), a subset of humanity has started to exhibit skills and traits that set them apart from society: telekinesis, telepathy, teleportation--a lot of stuff with the tele- prefix, basically--and society is beginning to become aware of this phenomenon, resulting in complex scenarios involving plenty of violence and politics and strong emotions.
Let us consider just the story of Professor Xavier and Magneto, to get some idea of why these comics are more potent social commentary than one might imagine. The conflict of two ideologies is at the root of their disagreement. Professor X claims that the mutants, having evolved beyond homo sapiens sapiens, should strive above all else to achieve peaceful cohabitation instead of reacting to their inevitable banishment from society with aggression in kind. Meanwhile, Magneto is the strongest advocate among mutants of darwinism, no longer really merely social, as true evolutionary boundaries have been crossed, saying that humanity is obsolete and should be exterminated or enslaved.
Of course, while one philosophy advocates ponderous inaction, and the other radical and immediate action, there's a definite power imbalance toward the darwinists: as long as they kill everyone the cohabitationists are trying to make peace with, the resulting situation will only prove them right--from the standpoint of conventional society, it's far too easy to bunch the two factions of mutants together and blame both groups for the actions of one, and from there, the logical conclusion is to eliminate mutants altogether.
Ultimately, transhumans will be defined by the common people only as evil, and by themselves according to the position they take in a single issue; the belief system of a fringe group can hijack public discourse altogether and derail social progress until they are removed from the equation. The series of X-Men is essentially an ongoing documentation of the attempts at removing that fringe group.
With that insightful wonder of a realization, I conclude today's post, my dear diarrhea.
May hugs and kisses rain on your face until my next post,
-Márton Körtesi.
to start off, I would like to mention a couple pieces of pop culture that contain elements of post- or transhuman philosophy. This first post will be concerned with the incredibly prolific and widely known comic series about mutants in a contemporary world: X-Men.
It's easy to dismiss X-Men as a childish fantasy of buff men and big breasted women in tight spandex battling Evil with ridiculous superhuman powers, but while it's undeniable that there's a certain element of all that involved, the series has always had considerable depth, even from the early beginnings. We of the Y generation have largely thought of the Golden Age of comics as silly and vapid, and of the darker and grittier nineties and aughties reboots like Batman, Superman and plenty others as the true art of this genre in contrast, but perhaps there's more to some of the early stuff than one might bother to think.
Since everyone knows at least the bare minimum about the X-Men franchise, I'm not going to bother with a thorough introduction of its past and present. The long and short of it is this: in the Marvel multiverse (the collection of fictional parallel universes told of in the comics of Marvel Worldwide, Inc.), a subset of humanity has started to exhibit skills and traits that set them apart from society: telekinesis, telepathy, teleportation--a lot of stuff with the tele- prefix, basically--and society is beginning to become aware of this phenomenon, resulting in complex scenarios involving plenty of violence and politics and strong emotions.
Let us consider just the story of Professor Xavier and Magneto, to get some idea of why these comics are more potent social commentary than one might imagine. The conflict of two ideologies is at the root of their disagreement. Professor X claims that the mutants, having evolved beyond homo sapiens sapiens, should strive above all else to achieve peaceful cohabitation instead of reacting to their inevitable banishment from society with aggression in kind. Meanwhile, Magneto is the strongest advocate among mutants of darwinism, no longer really merely social, as true evolutionary boundaries have been crossed, saying that humanity is obsolete and should be exterminated or enslaved.
Of course, while one philosophy advocates ponderous inaction, and the other radical and immediate action, there's a definite power imbalance toward the darwinists: as long as they kill everyone the cohabitationists are trying to make peace with, the resulting situation will only prove them right--from the standpoint of conventional society, it's far too easy to bunch the two factions of mutants together and blame both groups for the actions of one, and from there, the logical conclusion is to eliminate mutants altogether.
Ultimately, transhumans will be defined by the common people only as evil, and by themselves according to the position they take in a single issue; the belief system of a fringe group can hijack public discourse altogether and derail social progress until they are removed from the equation. The series of X-Men is essentially an ongoing documentation of the attempts at removing that fringe group.
With that insightful wonder of a realization, I conclude today's post, my dear diarrhea.
May hugs and kisses rain on your face until my next post,
-Márton Körtesi.
Introduction
Dear Diarrhea,
this journal was created to document my research into my BA thesis in American Studies. The general area I've picked is in the region of science fiction (speculative fiction for those anal retentives among you who cannot bear even the slightest impreciseness or political incorrectness in naming literary genres), and how the philosophies of posthumanism and transhumanism appear in that genre. Whether I can find an actual focus within that field is still to be determined, but for now, my working title is Definitions of Man: The Impact of Human Augmentation and Evolution on Society as Envisioned by Speculative Fiction Authors. My first goal is to shorten that title to merely half a page.
As I find interesting literature, be it primary or secondary, I will be posting my thoughts and comments here. Hopefully, I can do this in conjunction with the blogging class I'm taking, because the weekly requirements just might force me to do more research than I would otherwise.
I leave you, my dear diarrhea, hoping that you will be one of my more successful ventures.
Until my next post, I'm eternally yours,
-Márton Körtesi.
this journal was created to document my research into my BA thesis in American Studies. The general area I've picked is in the region of science fiction (speculative fiction for those anal retentives among you who cannot bear even the slightest impreciseness or political incorrectness in naming literary genres), and how the philosophies of posthumanism and transhumanism appear in that genre. Whether I can find an actual focus within that field is still to be determined, but for now, my working title is Definitions of Man: The Impact of Human Augmentation and Evolution on Society as Envisioned by Speculative Fiction Authors. My first goal is to shorten that title to merely half a page.
As I find interesting literature, be it primary or secondary, I will be posting my thoughts and comments here. Hopefully, I can do this in conjunction with the blogging class I'm taking, because the weekly requirements just might force me to do more research than I would otherwise.
I leave you, my dear diarrhea, hoping that you will be one of my more successful ventures.
Until my next post, I'm eternally yours,
-Márton Körtesi.
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