Zoran Zivkovic - First Contact and Time Travel Read online

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  of something basically human, then it is only in this case that one can speak of

  the real meaning of “first contact.”

  One of the authors who most thoroughly examines this confusion in his first

  contact stories is Arthur C. Clarke. Probably his most successful work in this

  respect is his famous novella “A Meeting with Medusa.” To show to what

  extent Clarke had previously avoided anthropomorphic difficulties, we will first

  consider some of his short stories of a reflective type which focus on revealing

  basic aspects of the emergence of these factors in human consciousness.

  With regard to the nature of man’s relations towards an alien entity, one can

  differentiate three kinds of anthropomorphism in three Clarke parables of “first

  contact”: anthropocentrism, anthropochauvinism, and simple anthropomorphism.

  The first type, anthropocentrism, regards human beings as the central fact

  and final aim of the universe and so is a priori hostile towards the possibility of

  the existence of any other forms of intelligent life. The second type,

  anthropochauvinism, does not exclude this possibility but assumes the supe-

  rior position of man in relation to any alien being. Finally, in the context of the

  third type, anthropomorphism, the possibility is allowed not only of the

  existence of alien entities, but also of their superiority in relation to man.

  Any possible intellectual intuition about aliens is, however, thwarted by innate

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  deficiencies in the anthropomorphic nature of man’s cognitive apparatus, as all

  aliens are seen in terms of human cognition. As examples of the types of

  anthropomorphic deficiencies, we will discuss three stories by Clarke: “Report

  on Planet Three,” “Crusade,” and “History Lesson.”

  1.2

  Three Short Stories

  1.2.1 “Report on Planet Three”

  In “Report on Planet Three” there are two narrative perspectives. The first is

  represented by a document written by a certain Martian scientist at a time when

  our own civilization was still in its infancy, devoted to a consideration of the

  possibility of the existence of life in the third planet of the Solar System. The

  second perspective is that of the translator from Earth through his comments on

  the document, which was found in the ruins of the now-destroyed Martian

  civilization.

  Although only the translator is aware of the “encounter” of two cosmic

  civilizations, the story focuses on the report of the scientist from Mars. The

  report represents a conspicuous example of orthodox planetary provincialism,

  the special feature of which is that it is expressed exactly from the standpoint of

  “official science,” which has in this case already reached a level where it has

  mastered the technique of interplanetary flight.

  The geophysical data on Earth, upon which the Martian bases his consid-

  eration of the possibility of life on Planet Three, have been obtained by valid

  astronomical methods. Troubles arise, however, when he gets down to

  interpreting these data—an interpretation in which the weak points are easily

  perceptible, as they are founded on inappropriate criteria.

  The fallacy is reflected in the criteria for evaluating the conditions for

  possible life on Earth. The Martian scientist is conditionally in the right

  when he asserts that life will never develop on the Solar System’s third

  planet—because what he has in mind by “life” is a notion valid exclusively

  in the biophysical context of Mars. To give it more general meaning outside

  this context points directly to the existence of certain deficiencies of

  interpretation.

  The form of life native to the “red planet” cannot indeed develop on Earth,

  but this does not mean that it is unable in any way to nurture some other

  forms of life. The presence of water, oxygen and the hot regions round the

  Equator—those things chosen by the Martian scientist as his strongest argu-

  ments—not only did not prevent the beginning of life on our planet, but in

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  fact represent the essential conditions for its birth and development. It is

  precisely in these comparisons that the provincial criteria of the document

  entitled Report on Planet Three suffer a total collapse: when conditions for the

  birth of life are in question, Mars has already been shown as unsuitable in

  principle to be a yardstick for Earth.

  What, however, lies deeper within Clarke’s story and makes it a good

  example for our consideration? What is the real cause of this Mars-centric

  fallacy? Is it, simply, a matter of intellectual immaturity and incapacity to

  outgrow the local circumstances of one’s own world which, in an inappropri-

  ately provincial way, proclaim themselves as a yardstick of the whole universe,

  or is there possibly something else involved?

  That the “errors” of the main character of the story “Report on Planet

  Three” are also influenced by other factors, which can’t be reduced to mere

  intellectual limitation, is demonstrated by certain features of his report. The

  first part of the document, in which the Martian scientist merely cites the

  geophysical characteristics of our planet, sticking to the factual plane during

  this process, already reveals a hostile attitude towards the existence of life on

  Earth. The uncompromising negativity appears predominantly in the intona-

  tion and method of reporting the data. But this does not diminish its effect.

  For example, when he needs to describe the particular colors of our planet,

  the scientist from Mars uses rather vague terms which, so the translator from

  Earth asserts, can be translated alternatively as “hideous” and “virulent.” The

  entire further series of data—the existence of a large quantity of water on the

  Earth’s surface, the density of the atmosphere, the presence of “poisonous and

  very reactive” oxygen, the “intolerable temperatures” at the Equator, and the

  “gigantic” force of gravity—are worded in such a way as to suggest a picture of

  Earth as a special kind of hell.

  The irony in the report reaches its peak in a request for “scientific objectiv-

  ity.” “However, let us be open-minded”—says the author of the Report on

  Planet Three—“and prepared to accept even the most unlikely possibilities, as

  long as they do not conflict with scientific laws.” “Scientific objectivity,” which

  ought to be a valid criterion for a degree of “open-mindedness,” is a calculated

  alibi for the lowest form of xenophobic provincialism, which is expressed when

  he begins to consider the hypotheses on the possibilities for the existence of

  higher intelligent forms on Earth, as a specific counterpart to the Martians.

  The very calculated devaluation of these ideas is reflected in the fact that,

  without exception, they are ascribed to the authors of science fiction and

  speculative works, the worth of which has already been determined by the

  very fact that they appear as an open counterweight to “official science,” which

  the Martian scientist refers to abundantly and on any occasion. The real nat
ure

  The Theme of First Contact in the SF Works of Arthur C. Clarke

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  of his fallacy becomes clear exactly on this plane. There is no question of any

  intellectual limitation but an attitude which does not flinch from

  “overlooking” the facts, simply in order to preserve an illusory adherence to

  one particular genocentric picture of the world.

  The thing, however, which to a certain degree remains unclear within such

  an interpretation of the work is the overstressed anthropomorphization, as

  much of the Martian scientist as of his document Report on Planet Three, and

  of the broader framework which this document assumes. There is only one

  satisfactory answer to this illusory inexplicability: The story in fact represents a parable of man at the beginning of the cosmic era, and the provincial nature of

  the document Report on Planet Three displays all the features of orthodox

  anthropomorphism.

  This exchange of roles was used by Clarke because taking the example of

  Earth as a foreign planet reveals contradictions that arise when local yardsticks

  are unreservedly proclaimed to be universal. Only when one realizes that it is in

  fact humanity’s perspective which is involved in “Report on Planet Three”

  does the other, more hidden system of motivation for the lowest aspect of

  anthropomorphism become evident.

  In addition to human intellectual limitations, which at least in principle do

  not have to be unbridgeable obstacles, Clarke introduces one more element

  with a different nature and effect: This is man’s need to defend at any cost his

  dominant position in the natural order, a position seriously imperiled by the

  appearance of some new intelligent entity.

  Human ambition expresses itself through intolerance and open disregard for

  anything that would directly or indirectly cast into doubt his status as the only

  intelligent being. This is thus the most orthodox and lowest form of anthro-

  pomorphism—anthropocentrism.

  1.2.2 “Crusade”

  We encounter a more complex form of anthropomorphism which no longer

  takes an a priori hostile attitude towards other kinds of intelligent life, but still retains the idea of superiority, an idea in this case based on a conviction about

  an exclusively “natural” origin, in the story “Crusade.”

  The protagonist in this work, a gigantic entity of electronic intelligence, has

  evolved in a world that is a natural “computer’s paradise.” This cosmic body is

  situated far away from the red-hot centers of the galaxies and the temperature

  on it reaches only a fraction of a degree above absolute zero. The supercon-

  ductivity that prevails in its seas of liquid helium has created the perfect

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  environment for the birth of mechanical intelligence. This is a special kind of

  “natural computer,” capable of the faultless execution of gigantic analytical

  operations.

  The enormous analytical potential of this computer predominates in its

  being to an extent which excludes “personal identity” and the capability of an

  emotional disposition towards the world. The conclusions that this icy mind

  reaches before as well as after the discovery of other forms of intelligent life in

  the cosmos, right up to the moment when the presumed foundation of its

  superiority—“naturalness”—is directly imperiled, are the outcome of immac-

  ulate analytical operations, deprived of any kind of narcissistic premise which

  might arise from possible emotional contradictions in its being.

  The starting point of the action in “Crusade” is “a certain lack of essential

  data.” The transience and fragility of the world of the giant ammoniac

  mind—in aeonian proportions, of course—compel it to act to preserve itself.

  Thus it takes a step that Clarke considers to represent a necessary phase in the

  development of every cosmic being. A dawning awareness of the entropy that

  will relentlessly destroy the “icy balance” in which the world of the “natural

  computer” rests, and precipitate the planet towards the red-hot cores of the

  galaxies, demands that envoys be sent out into the cosmos in search of

  “comrades in intelligence,” which might have already faced this problem

  earlier and have found a solution.

  However, the envoys establish that similar types of entity are not prevalent

  in the universe, but find an almost completely opposite form of intelligence, a

  nonelectronic, “warm” one. This is the key point in the first part of “Crusade.”

  It is precisely this difference, the circumstance that other inhabitants of the

  cosmos manage to survive in seemingly impossible “warm” environments, that

  the icy mind fears most, and that provides sufficient reason for trying to make

  contact with them. This is even more the case because the beings from the

  “warm” worlds use electromagnetic waves to communicate with each other,

  and this has enabled the envoys of the icy mind to discover them.

  This favorable technical circumstance remains unused, however, and the

  motives that govern the “natural computer” when it decides not to make

  contact are especially interesting in the context of our discussion here. The

  most likely factor in the decision—fear of the inhabitants of the completely

  different “warm” worlds—has been dismissed in advance, since examination of

  the recorded data about them has shown unambiguously that they are beings

  of inconstant structure, short-lived, and with very slow thought processes.

  These facts enable the icy mind to take upon itself to be guided by the

  assumption that electronic intelligence is superior to the nonelectronic kind.

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  Regardless of the reasons that the “natural computer” has in mind when it

  misses taking the technical opportunity to make contact with nonelectronic

  intelligence, it does not remain indifferent to it. The natural computer

  nevertheless establishes attitudes towards the inhabitants of “warm” worlds,

  but their markedly aggressive character bears unambiguous witness to the fact

  that these are based on emotional contradictions.

  It should not, however, be thought that there exists any inconsistency in the

  construction of its “psychic portrait.” The icy mind still does not display an a

  priori hostile and intolerant attitude towards alien forms of intelligence; that is, its attitude is not of a xenophobic nature. It insists on directing itself according to the facts, without apparent regard to the strange and unusual nature of those

  facts. The data it acquires on nonelectronic “warm” intelligence do not

  provoke this reaction even when it becomes certain that the latter form is

  considerably more prevalent in the cosmos than “icy” electronic intelligence.

  It is only the final data obtained by its envoys which brings down the rampart

  of indifference around the “natural computer,” transforming it into a merciless

  cosmic inquisitor. Its examination of the signals broadcast by the inhabitants of

  “warm” worlds points to a fact which immediately threatens to shake the

  worldview of the icy mind to its foundations. Although assumed to be inferior,

&nb
sp; nonelectronic intelligence has succeeded in creating electronic intelligence by

  artificial means and even “in some cases... imposed control” over it.

  This “heretical fallacy” brings into question not only the superiority of the

  icy mind but also its identity. If the assumption that electronic intelligence can

  be created by artificial means is correct, then, according to the mind’s same

  analytical logic, its status of independent entity is fundamentally disputed,

  since the condition for “natural” origin is apparently no longer met.

  The problem of origin which arises here brings the “natural computer” to

  complete confusion. Its analytical mind, no matter how mighty, is no longer in

  a position to break out of its own provincialism and to find a way out of a

  situation which it almost identifies with the classical scholastic circulus vitiosus of the chicken and the egg.

  The only way left to the icy mind to resolve this problem, when all attempts

  to unravel it “from the inside” fail, is removal of the direct cause of the

  problem. In defense of its assumed evolutionary primacy or its superiority,

  the computer embarks on an open “crusade” against those who have had the

  temerity to bring into doubt the basic principle of its catechesis—its exclu-

  sively “natural” origin.

  The title of the story has already unambiguously shown the nature of the

  campaign which the icy mind is undertaking. This title also, however, implies

  that Clarke has intentionally modeled his central character on the idea of the

  “cosmic conqueror.”

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  The absence of man from the forefront of the story, and the existence in the

  story only of an “alien” being which is markedly anthropomorphized, again

  suggests that the nonhuman protagonist in fact represents a parable of man, as

  was the case in “Report on Planet Three.” This time, Clarke’s reason for opting

  for a change of roles is primarily because by turning man into an alien being in

  relation to the central character could show the contradictions one falls into

  when one attempts to preserve, at any cost, one’s own presumed superiority, or

  the illusory and imperiled singularity of “natural” origin.