The fallacy which transforms the objective analytical mind into a blind
cosmic inquisitor is based on a conviction in the loss of the status of entity,
a status that might possibly have originated in an artificial rather than a
natural way. Clarke’s fundamental purpose is to show the untenability of
the yardsticks for the status of entity which are based on a disproportionate
natural/artificial duality.
It is not in the least accidental that he has chosen the nature of the
intelligence of the two groups of entities as the key to their difference. Man
as the representative of nonelectronic, biological intelligence has, even today,
an opportunity to confront directly a completely different type of intelligence,
of which the icy mind of “Crusade” is a considerably more advanced form.
Our attitude towards this other, electronic, nonbiological intelligence is the
same as that of the main character of the story towards the “warm” forms of
intelligence. We will remain indulgent towards it right up to the moment
when it threatens to bring our superior position into question.
The central character of “Crusade” is not so much worried by the fact that
the inhabitants of “warm” worlds have managed to create electronic intelli-
gence artificially, because it has itself managed to reproduce itself, but because
its status of entity, based on a conviction in the exclusive “naturalness” of its
own being, is thereby apparently disputed. The campaign upon which the
“natural computer” embarks represents a particularly anthropomorphic reac-
tion which Clarke purposely clothes in religious attire to make it as obvious
and as expressive as possible. This is supported by the dialogue between the icy
mind and its envoys in the second part of the story. This dialogue reminds one
of a bench of inquisitors making a decision about the fate of “heretics.”
It is worth bearing in mind when considering this story that it is in fact
about man’s attitude towards electronic intelligence, which he has indeed
created but which is increasingly slipping out from under his control. Clarke
thoroughly brings into doubt the objectivity of man’s criteria for the status of
entity which are based on the assumption of “naturalness” as a true yardstick.
In this way, an “artificial,” electronic intelligence is automatically provided
which, Clarke quite rightly considers, does not have to differ qualitatively from
The Theme of First Contact in the SF Works of Arthur C. Clarke
11
“natural,” biological intelligence. It is just because of this that the roles have
been swapped, because the reader has the chance to perceive the real roots of
the fallacy of the icy mind if he knows reliably that the other, nonelectronic
form of intelligence could indeed arise by natural means.
The anthropomorphism which Clarke concentrates on in “Crusade” is some-
what more complex in nature and method of action than the anthropocentrism
considered previously, and could be designated as anthropochauvinism.
1.2.3 “History Lesson”
Anthropomorphism, as a specific deficiency in the perspective of a human
being, appears in yet another form in those of Arthur C. Clarke’s science
fiction works which deal with the theme of “first contact.” In the previous two
cases it involved rejection of any possibility of the existence of alien forms of
intelligent life, or of allowing that possibility on condition that man’s superi-
ority is not imperiled by it. There is this time no doubt not only that alien
entities exist but also that they can be superior to humans; however, even this
considerable flexibility is still insufficient for their comprehension.
In contrast to the first two types of anthropomorphic deficiency, anthropo-
centrism and anthropochauvinism, in which the perpetrator in question
reveals himself at the level of a priori attitude, the third type, simple anthro-
pomorphism appears as an innate deficiency in man’s cognitive apparatus,
which is expressed quite independently of any other attitude. A good example
of the third type of anthropomorphic fallacy is found in the story “History
Lesson.”
As in “Report on Planet Three,” there are two narrational perspectives, but
with the difference that it is now Earthlings who play the part of chronolog-
ically older protagonist, although their role within this work is subordinate.
The plot focuses almost exclusively on the chronologically younger pro-
tagonists, the Venusians. They are aware of the existence of their Earthling
forerunners, whose planet is covered in ice and has long been bereft of any
form of life. Immediately before their extinction, however, the last generation
of semi-wild descendants of the once highly civilized inhabitants of Earth
preserved certain relics for the future, including several items from the post-
technological era, items whose meaning they have never attempted to grasp.
Although the Venusians are in this respect more enterprising and persistent,
relying on their highly developed science, the outcome is in the end the same.
They arrive at the facts scientifically, but their interpretation completely
collapses, although the cause is in this case quite different from that in the
previous stories.
12
Z. Živkovic
Contrary to the Martian scientist in “Report on Planet Three,” the Venusian
historian does not have an a priori hostile attitude towards Earthlings. And, in
contrast to the “natural computer” from “Crusade,” he not only allows the
possibility that the intelligent beings on Earth were radically different from the
reptilian inhabitants of Venus, but is also prepared to openly confront the fact
that their “remote cousins” had been wiser and superior in relation to the
Venusians. Nevertheless, this objectivity and flexibility are insufficient to
remove the destructive effect of Venus-centered planetary provincialism
which this time appears in its most complex form.
Discovered among the remains of the vanished terrestrial civilization, there
is a film which, to the Venusian experts, represents the main clue in their
endeavors to reconstruct the culture of an extinct race. An immaculate ana-
lytical apparatus is set in motion to ensu re as correct an interpretation as
possible of the tiny celluloid pictures which contain the secret of the appear-
ance, psychology, and intellectual achievements of the defunct Earthlings. In
order to increase the objectivity of this procedure, the possibility is considered
that what is involved is “a work of art, somewhat stylized, rather than an exact
reproduction of life as it had actually been on the Third Planet.”
All the disagreements start from this point. What the Venusian historian
means by “art” is formed by how imaginative expression is conceived of on the
second planet of the Solar System. We learn directly from the historian himself
the fundamental assumptions of this conception. “For centuries our artists
have been depicting scenes from the history of the dead world,” he says at the
beginning of his lecture, “peopling it with all manner of fantastic beings.
Most
of these creations have resembled us more or less closely...”
The outcome is unambiguous: the character of Venusian art—and at no
time does the otherwise objective historian doubt this—is provincial in
essence. There follows an ingenuous and apparently correct analogy, with
far-reaching consequences. Assuming, based on Venus’s example, that artistic
expression always remains emphatically representational, regardless of the
degree of alienness of the civilization from which it originates, the Venusian
historian concludes that Earth is also no exception in this respect.
What is more—and here the trouble starts—if art is essentially representa-
tional even when it is offered the possibility of expressing itself in an area
which, by definition, permits the least restrained and most unlimited flight of
fancy—and predictions of the morphological particularities of alien races form
just such an area—then it is quite in order to suppose that artistic statements
which, thematically, remain concentrated on the creator’s own race can only
have a still more emphatically representational bias.
The Theme of First Contact in the SF Works of Arthur C. Clarke
13
The Venusian historian therefore concludes that, even if a film found on
Earth is a work of art, it is only art insofar as it is partly “stylized,” so that it cannot be taken as a completely faithful reproduction of real life. Nevertheless—and here is the final fallacy in this seemingly faultless analysis—regardless
of possible minor deviations from purely objective reality, the celluloid docu-
ment can, in his view, be considered a valid and reliable source of information
about Earth. The snag lies in the fact that the work in question is a cartoon film
made long ago in the studios of Walt Disney.
No matter how hard they try, the Venusian scientists will never find the
right key to interpreting the film, and all the conclusions which they might
arrive at will collapse because the initial analogy of the all-valid nature of a
work of art as only partly stylized reality is inadequate.
The culturally narcissistic nature of this analogy is apparent precisely in the
Venusian historian’s inability to break free of the Venusian understanding of
art, which he unconsciously generalizes to the level of universal cosmic
yardstick. A particular share in this fallacy is taken by the irony that the only
extant document which can offer the Venusians basic information about the
Earthlings’ civilization is a Walt Disney cartoon, that is, a very specific form of
artistic expression which in no way corresponds to the manner in which the
Venusian scientist sees art.
At first sight, the focus of the story is upon this irony. This is also supported
by the story’s structure—a movement along a gradually rising line, right up to
the climax in the last sentence, when the immediate cause of the Venusian
historian’s fallacy becomes clear.
But the real causes lie elsewhere. If the focus had been upon the final
sentence, the story would be unconvincing. As in the previous cases, it
would not provide sufficient motivation for the excessive anthropomorphizing
of the Venusian scientists, especially the historian. Only when it is borne in
mind that Clarke’s basic intention is to highlight the a priori culturally
narcissistic nature of all analogies used in the process of drawing comparisons
between two unlike entities, during which process they are completely derived
from the particularity of one of those entities, does it become clear that, again,
there is an intentional exchange of roles involved, and that the whole of the
second, focal part of “History Lesson” is directly concerned with man’s
perspective.
Without the role exchange, the ironic twist at the end would have been
impossible; although this does not occupy a focal point in the story, it does
nevertheless have an important role. Again moving his lens from general
cultural narcissism onto a special kind of anthropomorphism, Clarke intends
in the first place to bring into radical doubt man’s cognitive apparatus, which
14
Z. Živkovic
relies to a large extent on an analogy that always remains conditioned by
anthropomorphic viewpoints.
As the parable of an Earthling scientist, the Venusian historian does not
make a conscious mistake when he places an equals sign between the concep-
tion of art attributed to the two planets. This analogy is a reflection of the
special character of his way of thinking which, in spite of its undoubted
flexibility and objectivity, nevertheless remains, in the last analysis, distorted
by “human” yardsticks.
What directly emerges from this conclusion is not exactly rosy for man. He
is, namely, capable of the simple gathering of facts (on the level of phenom-
enon), and from this point of view the requirement of “scientific objectivity” is
mainly satisfied. However, when he moves on to synthesizing and interpreting
these facts (the level of noumenon), anthropomorphism comes without fail
into play as a powerful limiting factor. This is manifested in the range from an
exclusively anthropocentric attitude, through the somewhat milder represen-
tation of anthropochauvinistic superiority, to the characteristic anthropomor-
phic restrictions of man’s cognitive apparatus.
1.3
“A Meeting with Medusa”
1.3.1 “There Is Life on Jupiter: And It’s Big...”
Our consideration of examples of Clarke’s stories which use the alien as a
mirror in which to see ourselves clearly shows that he is well acquainted with
the essence of the problems of anthropomorphism. It will therefore be espe-
cially interesting to examine how he tries to supersede its disintegrative action
from that of the narrative voice or rather stories where the alien entities have an
independent status which precludes their anthropomorphization.
For analysis in this direction, we have chosen the novella “A Meeting with
Medusa” because, from the point of view of the conception and presentation
of an alien protagonist, and of the examination of the ultimate frontiers of
prose narration within a special type of first contact, it is the most famous work
of Clarke’s sf opus, and undoubtedly ranks among the most successful in the
science fiction tradition generally.
In the novella “A Meeting with Medusa,” there are two alien protagonists in
addition to the human ones, but (in complete accordance with Clarke’s basic
intention) it remains uncertain up to the end whether they are indirect entities
or some transitional form between this status and that of nonentity. The work
is divided into two major scenes, one on Earth and a second, which is
The Theme of First Contact in the SF Works of Arthur C. Clarke
15
considerably longer, located on Jupiter several years later. The two parts are
linked by the same central character, Howard Falcon. At the end of the first
part, after surviving a catastrophic accident, he becomes a cyborg, a special
symbiosis of man and machine, that is, a being who is no longer exclusively
anthropomorphic (that
is, not totally human)—but the reader learns of this
change only at the end of the novella.
The fact that the episode that takes place on Jupiter is given much more
space in the novella is a reliable indicator that the author is giving it much
greater weight than the part that takes place on Earth. Superficially, “A
Meeting with Medusa” is about Man’s first mission to the largest planet of
the Solar System, a mission with the main task of solving certain exophysical
puzzles of that gigantic world. The probes which have been dropped earlier
into Jupiter’s atmosphere are no longer suitable, because it is now not simply a
question of merely gathering physical and chemical data but of a more
complex form of investigation which requires direct human presence.
However, Man will not show himself to be completely equal to this mission,
not so much when it comes to understanding the exophysical characteristics of
a world so very different from Earth but when the possibility arises that that
world could contain some forms of life. Although no one has seriously
expected such an encounter before the mission, there did exist a certain
preparedness for that possibility. This precaution is all the more significant
for our study because it presupposes certain criteria which can help to deter-
mine what constitutes a living being.
The first hint of these criteria is given by one of the characters of the second
part of the story, the exobiologist Dr. Brenner: he thinks that the phenomenon
of life represents not the exception but the rule in the universe. However, his
cosmic diffusion of life is limited by various natural environments to the level
of proportionately simple organisms, while one can only guess at the more
complex ones.
Considering the possibility of the existence of certain forms of life on Jupiter,
Dr. Brenner concludes: “I’ll be very disappointed... if there are no microorgan-
isms or plants there. But nothing like animals, because there’s no free oxygen.
All biochemical reactions on Jupiter must be low-energy ones—there’s just no
way an active creature could generate enough power to function.”
The exobiologist has taken as his yardstick of life the evolutionary model
found on our own planet. This model could possibly be valid elsewhere at
Zoran Zivkovic - First Contact and Time Travel Page 3