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AUT: Ken MacLeod interview
an interview with an interesting sci fi writer, from www.salon.com . . .
An engine of anarchy
Ken MacLeod talks about his rebellious youth,
his political paradoxes and the visionary power
of cyberpunk.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
By Andrew Leonard
July 27, 1999 | Ken MacLeod is the greatest
living Trotskyist libertarian cyberpunk
science-fiction humorist. It's a safe claim to
make, because he is undoubtedly the only such
creature. The 44-year-old Scot and former
computer programmer imagines futures full of both
socialist unions and libertarian enclaves,
warring with each other and within themselves.
You don't often find communist mercenaries
working for capitalist insurance companies in
science fiction. In Ken MacLeod's future, such
political incongruities are a joyous fact of
life. Add your regular cyberpunk ingredients --
machine consciousness, post-human trickery, cool
gadgets and lots of good drugs and rock 'n' roll
-- and you have a heady, rollicking brew.
MacLeod's political fiction is no pose. He's a
former Communist Party member who has won two
Prometheus awards for best libertarian science
fiction novel. After his American editor told me
that MacLeod was a regular "trenchant"
contributor to Internet-based discussion groups,
I decided to do some cyberspace stalking. Where
does he hang out? The bulk of his contributions
are in the Usenet newsgroup
"rec.arts.sf.written." No surprise there --
r.a.s.w. is one of the oldest watering holes on
the Net -- quite a few authors congregate there
with their fans, critics and peers. But his next
most favored spot is
"alt.politics.socialism.trotsky" -- and after
that, a little down the list,
"talk.politics.libertarianism." One of MacLeod's
hobbies, it seems, when he's between books, is
plunging into the Internet fray to argue about
what Marx and Engels really intended, and to
engage in the endless hair-splitting dear to
libertarians.
Working out a left-wing theory of libertarianism
might strike some observers as a headlong dive
into a thicket of ultra-thorny contradictions.
Can't be done, you might think. And certainly,
there are no ultimate answers contained in the
four-book arc -- "The Star Fraction," "The Stone
Canal," "The Cassini Division" and "The Sky Road"
-- that MacLeod has constructed since 1995. But
MacLeod's keen intelligence and sharp sense of
humor make the journey more than worthwhile --
and definitely beg the question: Who is this guy?
Where did these politics come from? MacLeod
agreed to answer some of these questions via
e-mail.
Here's a wild guess. The city of Glasgow,
Scotland, is famous for boasting a left-wing
tradition as proud as that of any city in Europe.
So I'll assume you come from a family of Glasgow
Trotskyists who worked in the Glasgow shipyards.
Your knowledge of left-wing factional infighting
is simply too intimate not to be drawn from real
life.
A. Not at all! My parents were quite conservative
and deeply religious Scottish Highlanders.
There's a certain amount of radicalism scattered
among my relatives that goes all the way back to
the crofters' [small farmers] struggles of the
19th century and the experience of two world
wars. My parents were staunch supporters of the
welfare state and equally staunch opponents of
socialism. They strongly disapproved of my
interest in Trotskyism. Naturally I thought they
were terrible reactionaries but this was far from
the case. They were of the generation that
defeated fascism and established the welfare
state -- they never moved forward from that but
they never retreated.
Anyway, I became a left-winger not through any
influence from my family or even the Clydeside
[Glasgow shipyards] labor movement but through
the same process as a lot of my friends did at
high school, via our rather marginal involvement
in youth counterculture. It may seem ridiculous
that a bunch of teenagers in Greenock, Scotland,
should be reading Marcuse and Malcolm X and
George Jackson, R.D. Laing and Timothy Leary and
of course the so-called underground press and
smoking the occasional joint, but that's how it
was. The context of Britain in the early '70s,
and big struggles like the Upper Clyde
Shipbuilders work-in and the war in Ireland, were
part of the scene in that we took workers' power
for granted. France 1968 wasn't that long ago,
Poland 1970 was even more recent, and big strikes
were fairly frequent. As one of the characters in
"The Star Fraction" says, "I've seen the working
class making days into history, and that isn't
something you forget."
But how did a Trotskyist get interested in
libertarianism?
A. After I graduated [from Glasgow
University] I went as a post-grad
to Brunel University in Uxbridge,
just outside London, and
immediately got stuck into
political activity. I joined the
International Marxist Group and was
involved in a lot of campaigning on
all kinds of issues, on campus and
off. There were a lot of big
struggles in London in the second
half of the '70s. I lived in a sort
of licensed squat with people from
England and Ireland and Kurdistan
and life became much more intense.
After that I lived in Finsbury Park
in North London, and fell out with
the International Marxist Group and
later joined the Communist Party in
the mid-'80s, just as it began to
tear itself apart. I have to say I
enjoyed being in the Communist
Party more than I did being in the
Trotskyist groups -- it was much
more open, and I think it was there
that I lost my fanatical dogmatism.
Because meanwhile, I'd been
checking out other political ideas,
I'd encountered the Libertarian
Alliance and it and the debates in
the Communist Party and the crisis
of the Eastern Bloc stimulated me
to think much longer and harder
about socialism than I'd ever done
before.
It wasn't until after I read "The
Star Fraction," your first novel,
that I'd learned you'd won two
awards from the Prometheus Society
for best libertarian science fiction novel. I
found this pretty amusing because the hero of
"The Star Fraction" is Moh Kohn, a communist
mercenary who leads the Felix Dzerzhinsky
Worker's Defense collective. (Dzerzhinsky was the
creator of the Soviet secret police.) Have you
actually synthesized some kind of leftist
libertarian world-view? Or are you just fooling
around?
A. I'm not fooling around, but if I've synthesized a
leftist libertarian world view I'd be very
interested to know what it is! I do in fact agree
with a lot of libertarian ideas and positions,
like I'm against gun control and the war on some
drugs and so forth, and I'm very proud of the two
Prometheus awards. I think classical liberalism
-- what's now called libertarianism -- and
classical Marxism have a lot more in common than
many people think. Classical Marxism is very
different from Trotskyism or any of the other
varieties of Leninism, and I think even they have
gone a long way downhill since the '70s. The left
is now more associated with repression and
regulation than rebellion and liberation.
Wouldn't the first difficulty inherent in merging
leftism and libertarianism be trying to deal with
the tension concerning individual rights and
social justice? In "The Star Fraction," your
portrayal of a Britain fractured into countless
tiny states, each with its own rules, is a
libertarian utopia in the sense that all kinds of
different approaches to ordering society are
possible, but at the same time, life is hell
within the confines of many of those mini-states.
A. Oh, absolutely, that's part of the point. The
politics of "The Star Fraction" -- leaving aside
the leftist element -- is really trying to
exacerbate a tension within libertarianism
itself. If cultural minorities, religions and so
on have their own little closed communities,
they're oppressive but if they aren't closed, if
they're part of the wider society, they are
themselves subtly altered. The libertarians
aren't really accepting the other world-views and
lifestyles as having their own validity, they're
quietly banking on the notion that they'll be
assimilated. Whether this is a problem is left as
an exercise for the reader.
Sitting here in front of my computer in Silicon
Valley, it's amazing how rarely one even hears
the term "working class." Sure, there are huge
disparities of wealth, and plenty of temp worker
exploitation and all that. But around here,
receptionists and secretaries are as likely to
have stock in a new start-up company as not. The
so-called new economy that everyone talks about
here almost tries to pretend that the working
class is pass=C8. That's not quite the case in your
books, is it?
A. I agree with the old Socialist Party of Great
Britain argument that anyone who has to work for
someone else for a living is a member of the
working class. You may have stock options, but
could you retire and live off them? If not,
you're still in the working class! It's certainly
true that there are big areas of overlap, fuzzy
boundaries, and Silicon Valley is currently the
El Ni=D2o of class mobility in the U.S. ... For the
purposes of my stories, I assume that even if a
lot of the heavy and dirty work continues to be
off-loaded onto machines or onto the so-called
third world, we'll continue to see a growing
proportion of the population dependent on a wage
or salary, supplemented perhaps by
self-employment and speculation. Even in "The
Star Fraction" there are suggestions that things
have moved on a bit -- almost everyone in that
book is a bit of a capitalist.
[But] the resurgence and the revolutions in my
stories are not necessarily working-class even in
the most generous sense, and they're certainly
not socialist. They're presented in the stories
as popular revolts against the New World Order,
but which themselves only lead to further social
breakdown: "What we thought was the revolution
was only a moment in the fall."
Your third novel, "The Cassini Division" struck
me on first reading as less overtly political
than your first two. Your American publisher has
said that he thinks that the politics of your
earlier novels may be a little too insidery for
an American audience. But I'd hate to think you
were watering down your politics to broaden your
appeal.
A. I'd hate to think that, too. "The Cassini
Division" is simpler than the other two because
it has a less complicated structure and because
it doesn't have any bloody Trots! But I hope the
conflicts over machine intelligence, morality
versus might-is-right, and so on are just as
satisfyingly unresolved as the more political
conflicts in the other books.
American cyberpunks mostly seem to avoid really
thinking about politics in any kind of organized
way. Bruce Sterling's most recent novel,
"Distraction," takes a whack at the topic, but
the William Gibsons and the Neal Stephensons
offer us societies in which critical thinking
about politics seems to me to be absent. The
cyberpunk author Pat Cadigan told me a few months
ago that one could explain American cyberpunk
obsessions from the fact that they were all the
same generation of suburban-bred, TV-reared, baby
boomers who grew up listening to rock 'n' roll
and getting stoned. Marxist revolution doesn't
really fit in there, does it?
A. You've just named four of the writers I most
admire! Bringing in the politics may be partly a
British thing ... From the North American
cyberpunk side, it's not just how they grew up
but what they grew into; what they saw,
correctly, as the bleeding edge of what was going
on. And it was pretty prescient. They in a sense
conjured up the Net and the Web, at least as much
as Golden Age science fiction conjured up the
space program. Long before I became a programmer,
and indeed long before the Internet took off, I
noticed that programmers talked like their minds
were going into a virtual space, into something
in their heads that was like Gibson's cyberspace.
And that was just respectable, commercial
programmers. The hackers must have sounded much
wilder.
The point being, they knew they were changing the
world, and they were doing an end run around
politics, as they thought. Politics did nothing
but put obstacles in their way. The hacker ethos
was to work around it. The Internet is an engine
of anarchy even without anarchists, just because
it's there in a state of nature straight out of
Locke or even Hobbes, and it works ... As Murray
Rothbard is supposed to have said of New York:
"We already have the war of all against all, and
it works fine!"
Looking at William Gibson's more recent fiction,
one of the things that struck me is how his
villains have changed -- they used to be
transnational corporations and evil artificial
intelligences, but now it's media itself --
tabloid TV, the endless fascination with
celebrity. Do you think this is a reflection of
the current economic boom in the U.S.? It seems
to be hard for science fiction writers,
especially out here on the West Coast, to think
about the immediate future in the same kind of
dystopian, shanty-town, drugs-and-AIDS
catastrophe way that was so popular in the late
'80s. Instead, the new focus is on the media
manipulators who specialize in operating in the
new economy.
A. Funnily enough, the latest situationist-type
rant, "Two Hundred Pharaohs, Five Billion Slaves
...," that I've stumbled across -- massively
researched, staggeringly erudite and apparently
written by a complete unknown on an office PC --
makes the very point that the two aspects,
celebrity and poverty, software and sweatshops,
are increasingly intertwined by the information
industry and the industrialization of
information. I haven't checked this, but it
credibly claims that 5 percent of the British
work force is employed in 24-hour banking/credit
telephone call centers -- low-paid, unorganized,
and working constantly on keyboards and phones,
with a very high level of physical and nervous
stress. There's a lot going on there -- the
possible link-up between celebrity and
surveillance, for example. We'll all be on the
telly, but most of us get our 15 minutes of fame
on closed-circuit television.
Even so, there is a sense of hope running through
all your novels, an essentially optimistic belief
that, as suggested at the end of your second
novel, "The Stone Canal," there are no limits. In
some ways, that's the most Marxist thing about
your writing -- this idea that progress really
exists.
A. I do think that progress exists, in fact I can
dig up one of my favorite quotes from a Marxist,
V. Gordon Childe's conclusion to "What Happened
In History":
"These hints must suffice. Progress is real if
discontinuous. The upward curve resolves itself
into a series of troughs and crests. But in these
domains that archaeology as well as written
history can survey, no trough ever declines to
the low level of the preceding one; each crest
out-tops its last precursor."
salon.com | July 27, 1999
- - - - - - - - - - - -
About the writer
Andrew Leonard is a senior
correspondent for Salon
Technology.
Sound off
Send us a Letter to the Editor
Send e-mail to Andrew Leonard
Related Salon stories
A Trotskyite libertarian
cyberpunk? Ken MacLeod, science
fiction's freshest new writer
achieves the highly improbable
with wit and style.
By Andrew Leonard 07/27/99
The downloadable boy An excerpt
from Ken MacLeod's "The Cassini
Division."
By Ken MacLeod 07/27/99
Copyright =A9 1999 Salon.com All rights reserved.
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