by Huss, John
The real issue though is the attempt to change an event that has already happened, whether or not the attempt to change it is in some causal sequence with the event to be changed. This is a matter of how the past and the future differ from one another. In all of our experience the past is fixed and the future is open. If this asymmetry is fundamental to reality, the point made by the Possibilists, then time cannot be considered a completely space-like dimension, and the solutions to equations which involve going into the past should be considered artifacts of the mathematics, just like numbers for temperatures below absolute zero. Time is of course extremely mysterious, but I will focus on this difference between past and future as characterizing a fundamental aspect of time.
Those who believe that time is not real, or is not a fundamental aspect of reality, say that reality is fundamentally timeless or ‘atemporal’. Reality would then be described by atemporal laws, perhaps the laws of nature or perhaps the laws of logic. Aristotle, as the first philosopher to systematically explore logic and an early scientist, was the first to be concerned about this problem. Although he was concerned with the temporal status of both the laws of nature and the laws of logic, he discussed this issue of time with regard to the latter. The problem arose with regard to the “law of the excluded middle,” the law of logic which says that all statements are either true or false. There is no problem when applying this law to the past—even when we don’t know whether some statement about the past is true or false, there is no problem in assuming that it’s either one or the other. But Aristotle noted that if applied to the future, the law of the excluded middle would seem to lead to the conclusion that all events are determined. Consider the following future tense statement:
An ape takeover will occur in 2600.
According to the law of the excluded middle, this statement must be true or false. We may not know which, and in fact no one may know, but it is one or the other. Let’s assume it’s true. If so, then nothing can be done (by anyone or anything) to prevent the takeover from occurring. And if nothing can be done to prevent it from occurring, then it will occur necessarily. Of course, it may not be true. Let’s assume that it is false. Then there will definitely not be an ape takeover in the year 2600, and nothing can be done to bring one about. Same result. Since this reasoning follows for all statements about all events, it follows that all events are determined.
Many philosophers believe that there’s some sort of logical error in this reasoning, but I don’t think so. The reasoning is sound because it follows from considering statements about the future to have the same relation to reality as statements about the past—they describe it. Note that when we assumed that the statement is true, we are in exactly the same position as Hasslein in Escape from the Planet of the Apes, even though we’ve had no visitors from the future. In Escape, the statement is considered descriptive because it refers to events that have already happened with respect to Cornelius and Zira. In Aristotle’s example, the statement is considered descriptive because logicians want all true statements to be descriptive regardless of whether they are about the past or future.
With regard to the future, we certainly seem to have the ability to influence events. This ability is eliminated when all statements about the future are treated in the same way as statements about the past. If we think back to the time travel paradox, we can see that it involves the same issue. When someone goes back from 2012 to 1912, the problem is that 1912 is the past (and can’t be changed) and upon arrival also future (and can be changed). The problem set out by the paradox is thus not so much about undoing causal chains in a self-interfering way as about treating the future, which can be changed, on par with the past, which cannot.
No Escaping the Impossible
There is a dramatic difference between forward time travel and backward time travel. If we take this “dramatic difference” in both senses of the term, we can say that philosophically one is conceptually possible and the other is conceptually impossible. In the other sense, we might see the artistic differences between the first movie and the third as reflecting this conceptual difference: the first movie is a serious drama, the third movie a comedy.
The serious drama of the first film can be taken to reflect the straightforward conceptual aspects of forward time travel. Escape from Planet of the Apes, on the other hand, is played as a comedy, reflecting the conceptual impossibility of backwards time travel. The opening scene, where the military picks up the unknown astronauts, is treated in the farcical manner of TV shows of the period such as McHale’s Navy or Gomer Pyle. The comedy culminates with the interview of the government’s science expert Dr. Otto Hasslein, who the interviewer says has written “learned dissertations on the Nature of Time.”
Asked to explain how someone could travel in time, Hasslein begins by saying that “Time can only fully be understood by an observer with the godlike gift of infinite regression.” “Infinite regression” turns out to be the view of the cosmos which includes the observer within the view. In the movie we’re shown an image of a landscape painting which then expands to take in the painter in the act of painting, which in turn expands to show the painter painting this larger picture, which in turn expands to show the painter painting this one, and so one through many repetitions.
Hasslein’s “infinite regression” has nothing to do with the understanding of time. The images seem to be inspired by a Dali painting, and the comedy is emphasized by the interviewer’s comment that “It’s enough to drive you mad.”
Hasslein, then asked specifically about time, describes it as “like a freeway with an infinite number of ‘lanes’—all leading from the past into the future. But not the same future. A driver in Lane ‘A’ may crash, while a driver in Lane ‘B’ survives. It follows that a driver, by changing lanes, can change his future.” He then goes on to say that he does “not find it hard to believe that, in the dark and turbulent corridors of Outer Space, the impact of some distant planetary or even galactic disaster ‘jumped’ the apes from their present into ours.” This planetary or galactic disaster is left unexplained, so that Hasslein’s discussion is not really meant to provide any explanation as to how time travel is possible.
Hasslein’s image of time as like a freeway does not get us any further. Being a spatial image, a multi-lane freeway treats time as space-like, and thus is supposed to make time travel seem conceptually possible. The image, however, does nothing to resolve the conceptual difficulties involved in backward time travel and if thought through actually reinforces them. The idea that time is like a road raises the problem of why one can’t just shift into reverse or turn around and go in the opposite direction. And it raises the further problem of whether one’s thoughts and decisions, as part of the traffic within a lane, are also guided by that—whatever it is—which keeps the cars in their lanes, headed in the same direction. We end up with the same problem as the one pointed out by Aristotle—all actions including our decisions are determined. Our decisions, which seem to involve genuine choices, are themselves determined as well, raising the problem of the existence of free will.
The image tries to resolve these problems by conceiving of multiple lanes, with the decisions given enough leeway to allow us to change lanes. Let us grant for the sake of argument that somehow decisions do have such leeway, and Hasslein’s scheme is able to alter the future. In this case, Cornelius and Zira would seem to have jumped back not within the very same lane, but rather backwards along the highway and onto a different lane. Their lane—the one containing their past—is one where an ape takeover has taken place. The lane where they’ve landed, though, is one where an ape takeover does not take place. The past they visit is thus not their past, but the past of a universe very similar to theirs. The multiple lanes should be conceived of as parallel universes, and moving from one to another is not time travel at all. Thus an image which is supposed to allow for the possibility of time travel actually makes it impossible.
The central moment philos
ophically comes not with Hasslein’s purported explanation, but when Cornelius explains, under interrogation, how apes took over. As noted above, this story is past and future at the same time—past for him and Zira, future for the humans alive at that time (and also for him and Zira). As past it would seem to be fixed, but as future it would seem to be open, setting up the question as to whether it is open to “change.” As Aristotle’s argument shows, if the future is also past, then the future can’t be open. And that is what the causal loop which resolves the paradox in the film illustrates. The future is not open—Milo won’t be and can’t be killed. The ape takeover will necessarily occur.
Destiny
At the end of the original movie, when Taylor escapes to the forbidden zone, Zira asks Zaius what Taylor will find there. Zaius replies: “His destiny.” Within the film, the prediction can’t fail, having an advantage that predictions outside of movies don’t have: what’s to come is written in the script. And in the movie, Taylor’s destiny is to come across the ruin of the Statue of Liberty. He thus discovers that he has been on Earth all along, a discovery which has a huge emotional impact on him, casting doubt on the misanthropy he so proudly used to taunt Landon after landing. And this discovery shows that the entire film has been not a story of space travel, but one of time travel.
The prediction came true in another way as well. In the final scene, Taylor finds not only his destiny but, in a certain way, the destiny of the novel too. Written in French, with French astronauts who land in a future France at the end, the Statue of Liberty of course never appears in Boulle’s novel. But you will find an image of a ruined Statue of Liberty on the cover of the current paperback edition of Planète des Singes.
V
Ape Politics
10
Banana Republic
GREG LITTMANN
Life’s tough for a chimpanzee on the Planet of the Apes (1968). If anybody needs a doctor or an architect, or a blacksmith or a wheelwright, the first thing they do is call in a chimpanzee. If they need a porch swept, a load transported by wagon, or a message taken down to the laboratory, they snap their hairy fingers and send for a chimp.
Yet despite being the backbone of simian society, the chimpanzees get no say at all in how society is run. Instead, all power and authority is held in the hands of the orangutans, which is just how the officious orange bastards like it. Ape City is run according to laws set down by the orangutans, as interpreted by orangutan officials, and enforced by hulking gorillas who can snap a chimpanzee like a twig.
Chimpanzees can’t even express opinions counter to those of the orangutan elite. Finally able to speak after a hundred thousand years or so of evolution, the chimps are rendered mute by the government. It’s hard not to sympathize. I’m sure we all feel like little chimpanzees sometimes, trapped in an environment where the great big orangutans and gorillas hold all of the power and enjoy all of the fruit.
Just to add insult to injury, the chimpanzees are assured that society is ordered for the greater good in accordance with divine law. The orangutans insist that by holding all of the power, they are merely performing a public service in accordance with God’s will and the natural order of things. They teach that an orangutan-dominated society is a healthy society, with everyone in their proper place, with the wisest and fittest-to-rule firmly in charge of the rest. According to the orangutans, the chimpanzees are better off with the orangutans making decisions on their behalf, and the gorillas there to keep them in line.
Is ape society a healthy society? Answering that question requires us to have some idea of what a healthy society would be like but political thinkers have come to a wide variety of very different conclusions about how society should be run. One thing that makes the ape society from Planet of the Apes particularly interesting from the point of view of political philosophy is how closely this science-fiction civilization resembles one of the oldest and most famous and influential conceptions of what an ideal society would be like. The ancient Greek philosopher Plato (429–347 B.C.E.) provided us with the earliest great works of political philosophy that we have. In his longest text, The Republic, he laid out his model of a well-run independent city-state.
The City of Justice and the City of Apes
Plato’s aim in designing a new city-state was to ensure that it would be a just city. When society is just, all members benefit. Order is maintained, allowing people to pursue their work in peace, and all individuals receive their due. The just society is even good for law-breakers, since a just society will improve the law-breaker morally through punishment.
A society can only be just if it is harmonious and well-ordered, with all citizens working and living in proper co-ordination. Each individual should specialize in the work for which they are most suited by natural talent. Those most suited to being farmers should farm, those most suited to being doctors should be doctors, and those most suited to making art would be making art. Having specialized in the type of work they’re most suited for, individuals should focus on their specialization and not concern themselves with matters that lie outside it—the potter should make pots and leave curing the sick to doctors, who are better qualified to cure the sick. Plato writes:
More plentiful and better-quality goods are more easily produced if each person does one thing for which he is naturally suited . . . and is released from having to do any of the others. (lines 370c3–6)
Ruling the state, by this reasoning, should be a job performed by those who specialize in ruling, chosen from those who are best fit to rule. People who perform any other job, like farmers, craft workers, and doctors, should have no say. They should keep their noses out of government and simply obey. Since they don’t specialize in the art of governing, they aren’t qualified to make political judgments and should stick to their own trade.
For this reason, the city will be divided into two social classes, a ruling class to run the city and a producing class to do all of the other jobs in accordance with the rulers’ instructions. The function of Plato’s ruling class is not to benefit themselves by stocking up wealth and power, but to use their superior reasoning abilities to run society justly for the benefit of all citizens. To ensure that a manual worker “is ruled by something similar to what rules the best person, we say that he ought to be the slave of that best person. . . . It isn’t to harm the slave that we say he must be ruled . . . but because it is better for everyone to be ruled by divine reason” (lines 590c7–d3). Because we can’t expect the producing classes to always do as they are told by the rulers, the ideal state must also include a class of professional warriors to keep order among the producers and to protect the city from outside threats.
The three classes of citizen in Plato’s Republic are mirrored by the three classes of citizen on the Planet of the Apes. At the top of the tree, we find the orangutans. Functioning much like Plato’s ruling class, the orangutans serve as legislators and administrators and have responsibility for education, censorship, and propaganda. Why the orangutans ended up in this role is unclear, since wild orangs are no more religious than any other species of ape, nor any more drawn to administration.
Perhaps the orangutans assumed that as the most spectacularly beautiful of all primates, God clearly marked them out as leaders, bestowing on them a flamboyant orange splendor that surpasses even the athletic grace of the chimpanzee and the stately majesty of the gorilla, let alone the disease-ridden appearance of the human, afflicted as humans are with ugly bald patches over most of the body.
Enforcing the power of the orangutans are the gorillas, endowed by nature with the physical strength to impose their will. Like Plato’s warrior class, the gorillas use their muscle to maintain order in ape society and to protect it from outside threats like invading humans. Right at the bottom of the barrel are the chimpanzees. Corresponding to Plato’s producing class, the chimps are the ones who actually make things, grow things, and otherwise take on every job in society that does not boil down to telling people wha
t to do or enforcing the law. Given that wild chimpanzees may use sticks and rocks as simple tools, it is unsurprising that it is the chimps who are assigned to perform the manual and technical labor. The fact that chimpanzees are smaller and weaker than orangutans and gorillas, and thus easier to push around, makes it all the less surprising to find that they are saddled with the hard work. Their function is to get on with their professional duties and do whatever the orangutans say. How can it be that the best possible city so closely resembles this simian tyranny? Let’s take a closer look at the parallels and differences.
Anyone Can Become a Philosopher but Being an Orangutan Is a Gift
Plato thought that the most important task of government was to educate the ruling and warrior classes for their social roles. Nobody is born into the ruling class. At the age of thirty, new members of the ruling class are chosen from members of the warrior class who show most aptitude for the intellectual and moral demands of ruling. All young warriors are subjected to an arduous physical training, in addition to which they must master uplifting music and poetry to strengthen their moral character. In order to join the ruling class, the student must also excel in mathematics and philosophy, to ensure that they love truth and are equipped to understand it. They must also demonstrate that they are “the most stable, the most courageous, and as far as possible the most graceful . . . a noble and tough character” (lines 535a10–b1), “someone who has got a good memory, is persistent, and is in every way a lover of hard work” (lines 535c1–2). Above all, a member of the ruling class must be a philosopher, since it’s the philosopher who loves truth and can best understand it.