Cultural Encounters and Miscegenation in the Imagination of Octavia Butler

A few years ago, my son David talked to me about science fiction writers.  David is a voracious reader, one of the side effects of growing up in the home of two teachers.  One of the marvels of this young man is the way he used to read large collections of a genre and compare and critique.  When we talked, he was explaining to me the ideological patterns he saw in science fiction as different authors constructed utopian and dystopian visions of worlds to come.  I had not given it much thought, but there is neocon science fiction and liberal science fiction.  I also had not thought about the fact that most of these science fiction writers envision a world much like the dominant narratives of most fiction--populated by white males as the agents of history.  So he told me about female writers and one particularly interesting black female, Octavia Butler.

Butler has won awards from the science fiction world for her writings.  So science fiction writers in general have appreciated her work.  Aspects of her work resonate with many science fiction novels and stories:  there are alien beings, interplanetary travel, advanced technologies, apocalyptic wars, biological variations that blend what we think of as animals and plants, and social structures that differ from conventional families and political structures.  So for science fiction readers, you get what you expect from Butler.

What you may not expect is a sophisticated account of race and gender.  I read a trilogy that is variously called the Xenogenesis trilogy and Lillith's Brood when republished as a set in one volume.  As the trilogy name indicates, the issue of foreignness and difference is at the heart of this multigenerational narrative.  Moreover, at the core of it is the fear of what "miscegenation" means for the existence of a race, or even for the human race.  I will do my best to avoid any spoilers about critical eventualities in these stories.

The human character whose presence continues through each novel is Lillith, a survivor of a devastating apocalyptic nuclear war on earth which destroyed human society and made the planet uninhabitable.  The reader meets Lillith on an alien spaceship that is a dwelling, more than a ship, in orbit near Earth.  She is slowly learning where she is, who she is with, and what will be next in her life.  What becomes clear quickly is that some small portion of humanity was saved from certain death by an alien race of people, the Oankali, whose existence involves exploring the solar system searching for habitable planets and compatible races of beings with whom to join their lives.

Lillith becomes quickly concerned about her future among the Oankali.  They describe their family structure to her, and it becomes apparent that they hope, or plan, for her to become a human mate within a complex family of humans and Oankali.  They have the ability to manipulate genes and cell structures.  They learn from each species they meet and evolve into better forms of their species.  They call this process "trading."  From their point of view, each species benefits.  From Lillith's point of view, she and her descendents will lose their identity as humans and be absorbed into the Oankali.  This theme never goes far below the surface throughout the whole trilogy.  Lillith never arrives at a comfortable resolution.  That's not telling too much.  It is part of the dramatic driving force of the stories.

As fiction is able to do, these stories ask again and again about what might constitute miscegenation.  Part of the question being asked is whether there is such a thing as continuity of identity that passes through multiple generations.  Are humans always changing, and what changes disrupt their humanity?  In contrast to the fear of blending Oankali DNA with human DNA, Butler describes the surviving humans who begin to repopulate the Earth as the remnants of many ethnic and cultural groups.  More of the population of the Southern Hemisphere survived, and some communities are made up of a variety of "races" living together.  Their greatest hope is to repopulate the Earth, but they express little concern about separating the races.  The narrative occasionally makes passing remarks about various communities with greater and less diversity, and with some residual attitudes toward difference based on skin color.  So it is not a naive depiction of post-apocalyptic race relations, but a politically credible view of how human difference might diminish in human social relations when a more overwhelming difference becomes a challenge.  Butler's explorations here are tentative rather than dogmatic.

The exploration of difference between the Oankali and humans has depth of insight.  The Oankali seem sure that their approach to interspecies relations is consensual, although their technological advantages belie some aspects of the consent.  The social power of the Oankali sets a tight range of options for humans.  They are not willing for certain outcomes to occur.  They believe there is an inherent flaw in humanity, and they want to eradicate it.  Here Butler is delving deep into the forgetfulness of contemporary racism.  The Oankali are not inclined to be violent toward humans, and they understand their relationship to humanity as benevolent.  They are seeking to elevate humanity to live longer, be healthier, achieve greater things, and survive as a species.  In return, they are strengthened by elements of humanity they have discovered and absorbed into themselves.  But if their plan is carried forward, will the semi-consensual assimilation of the residents of Earth leave anything recognizably human?  Butler pushes deep into this question through the entire series.

Turning another direction, Butler is also challenging gender politics.  The somewhat dystopian world that results from non-cooperation with the Oankali shows humanity in a harsh perspective as women become commodities for trade and suffer rape and violence at the hands of raiding parties.  In contrast, the Oankali exist as a three-gendered community.  Male and female in Oankali existence do not fit into conventional human stereotypes.  A third neither male nor female gender, the ooloi gender, plays perhaps the most powerful role in the society and family.  Females are largest and strongest.  Males are gatherers and more conversational.  Ooloi are most scientific and political, and they are the key marriage partner in reproduction.  I am not sure I have meditated long enough on the implied gender politics, but it does seem obvious that describing a three-gendered species is a device for Butler to examine the ways that domination and equality function.  The ooloi are benevolent dominant partners, but from the perspective of their human interrogators, their ability to dominate by using biologically sophisticated means, no matter how benevolent, remains a problematic part of their relationships.

I'll not try to pretend to be an expert on Butler's work today.  I'm not going to do any theological speculations at this point beyond the implications of race and gender politics that I have already mentioned.  I do look forward to reading more of her books, as friends have talked with me about some of their favorites already.  Thanks to David for pointing me in this direction.  As is almost always true, an intense foray into narrative fiction was a great mind refresher for me.

Bluebonnets for Easter

I've posted some pictures on Facebook from Good Friday and Holy Saturday, and I've made a series of comments about them which I am collecting here.  In the past, I have written about wildflowers and bluebonnets and their significance for Everly, our years together, and for our family (here and here, for instance).  We have been blessed with an abundance flowers at Everly's grave this year, and I wanted to share these pictures and reflections with those of you who have followed our story.

In winter 2013, we planted bluebonnets and paintbrush wildflowers on Everly Estes Broadway's gravesite in Salado. With pretty good rainfall, the plants emerged in the spring, but there were only a few scattered, small blooms. So we hoped for another year of root growth to bring us a better bouquet this year. Today Lydia made her way to Salado at the end of Holy Week, and we got a big surprise.

As the day waned on Good Friday, she found and sent us pictures of abundant bluebonnets all over the Broadway grave plot, and only on that part of the cemetery. A little foreshadowing of Easter on Good Friday for us who love Everly. 

Bluebonnets all over, with a few scattered paintbrush and behind the bench, several red Drummond's phlox visible in the corner of one photo. Everly will be loving these flowers. I always loved to bring her flowers.

 STEM moment: Everly will be loving to see a few atoms (possibly) of her carbon remains revitalized in this palate of color. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Dust to soil, soil to bluebonnets.

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W.D. (my dad) and Lydia have gone back to sit with Everly and place an Easter lily by her gravestone today on Holy Saturday. Last year on Easter the four of us took lilies to Everly's grave before sunrise. Later in the day we took pictures with bluebonnets as we had on our last Easter with Everly. This year we are scattered around in three states. Thank you sweet Lydia for these pictures.

Beyond my comprehension, in the complex relation of time and eternity, the mystery of Holy Saturday is a day of communion of our Lord with the dead. WD and Lydia stay there by this grave at the borderlands of this mystery, and we remember that this tomb and the Lord's tomb and so many more tombs cannot hold prisoner those who have been laid to rest.  

But on this day, Christ and those united to him (the church against whom even the gates of Hades may not prevail) participate in the liberation of "All of these [who] died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, God has prepared a city for them."

"There is a communion of the saints," as Rev Turner declared in Everly's eulogy, and like so many flowers clustered around WD's and Lydia's feet, there is a great cloud of witnesses, sitting vigil on this day, with all creation groaning in labor pains, awaiting redemption of our bodies. We hope for what we do not see and wait with patience. The Spirit helps us in our weakness and intercedes with sighs too deep for words. The Spirit intercedes for the saints according to God's good will and purpose for us. In this blessed, sweet communion, we await the mystery of resurrection, in hope.

The Land of the House of Omri--Part 1
Psalm 146
I Kings 16

In the official inscriptions of the ancient kingdom of Assyria, archaeologists have discovered a phrase that names a character from the Old Testament. That phrase refers to a kingdom, and it calls that kingdom “the house of Omri.” Who was Omri—O-M-R-I--Omri? Did Omri have a famous family?

Well, fame is a relative thing. About 3000 years ago in the hills of Samaria, Omri was pretty well known. He was the sixth king of the northern kingdom of Israel. He moved the capital of the kingdom from Tirzah to a new city he built called Samaria. He reigned for about twelve years and seems to have built some buildings. He was mediocre in his ability to maintain good relationships with neighboring kingdoms. He seems to have solidified one relationship with a strategic marriage for his son. Elsewhere he lost some cities to Syria and took some cities from Moab. And he got his name into the records of Assyria, a kingdom on the rise toward a becoming a great empire. His successors as King of Israel would ultimately have to face a reckoning with Assyria, and it would be their downfall.

But what I’ve just told you is much more than the book of 1 Kings bothers to tell us about Omri. Omri is one more in a series of rulers who are most memorable in the Bible for the way they went wrong. Of course, that is the overall story line of the entire period of kings in Israel and Judah. Some people began to demand a king. Samuel tried to stop them, and he warned them it would not be good for them. Against God’s true purpose for Israel, God let them have a king, and what follows is one sad example after another of why we need to understand what Psalm 146 is saying: “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help. When their breath departs, they return to the earth; on that very day their plans will perish.”

Let’s think back across that history. God selected Saul, from the tribe of Benjamin, as the first king. He had the look of a leader. He showed an inclination toward godliness as was manifested when he joined up with the traveling prophets. He took up the task of leadership with confidence. Pretty soon he was fighting wars. The longer he stayed in office, the more he worried about who might be trying to take over his place as king. This concern seems to have pushed him toward depression and maybe even mental illness. He could not figure out that the best thing he had going for him was a friendship with young David. Instead, he let the waves of public opinion rock him back and forth. It’s a tragic story, but not an isolated incident of failure on the throne.

Saul was replaced by David after his death. Sometimes the Bible makes it seem that under David everything was great. But closer attention to the story shows us it was not. David’s leadership was tied up with his effective use of violence. God did not want him to build the temple because of his violent ways. Moreover, while he seems to have started out with the blessing of the people and of God, David quickly dissipated his political capital and his divine favor. He decided that being king put him above the law. He stole a man’s wife and killed the man. He did not maintain a harmonious household. The household disagreements poured over into political factions, and the land became divided and went into civil war. Although we see David repenting of sin and seeking to reconcile the divisions, even on his deathbed he plotted revenge.

His successor Solomon is praised for his wisdom, but where is the wisdom in having so many wives and concubines? He sounds more like a rich, powerful man out of control. Some of his marriages were for political alliances, and these brought the powerful influences of other kingdoms and other faiths into the land. Although Solomon is revered for building a temple to the God of Israel, he also built temples to the gods of the neighboring kingdoms. And the way he built so many fine buildings was by drafting the people to do forced labor for the kingdom. It was hard to raise your crops and keep your animals if you had to spend months away from home building fancy buildings for the king’s wives to live in or for the priests of foreign gods to practice their religion. People were angry by the time Solomon died.

One of the popular critics of Solomon’s policies, Jereboam, helped to split the kingdom into north and south, and he became king of the northern tribes. He went back to the wilderness precedent of erecting a golden calf as a symbol of the throne of god. He mixed up the gods of the land with the worship of the God of Israel. His was the first of many disastrous kingships in the northern kingdom. His son and successor, Nadab, was murdered on the battlefied by another northerner, Baasha, and then the whole family was rounded up and slaughtered. Baasha did not know how to stay out of fights, and he had plenty of trouble with his neighbors. When he died, his son Elah succeeded him. That’s where 1 Kings chapter 16 picks up.

I would hate to be Elah in the history books. The Bible gives us one fact about his life. While a war was going on somewhere else, he was back at home with half the army in the capital. And he was drinking himself stupid with his buddies. In that state of inebriation, he probably never knew what hit him. The commander of the troops in the capital came to the place where he was drunk and assassinated him. The kingdom went into chaos. Zimri, his assassin, proclaimed himself the new king. Then he did just like Elah’s father had done. He rounded up the whole family of Elah and executed them.

After this assassination and usurping of the throne, the people began to rally around popular leaders. The part of the army that had been off at war chose Omri to be the new king. Omri took the army off the battlefield and marched back to the capital. When Zimri, the assassin who was claiming to be king, saw the troops arrayed against him, he gave up hope. After being king for only seven days, he set fire to the palace and burned it and himself in it. So Omri claimed to be the new king.

But he could not fully claim it yet. Even though the army was backing him, about half the people of the northern kingdom were backing another fellow, Tibni, for king. Putting the dates from 1 Kings 16 together, it seems that for four years, two people claiming to be king were locked in a struggle for power. Finally, Omri’s party overcame Tibni’s party, and Tibni’s death let Omri reign unchallenged for the next eight years until his death. What inheritance did he leave the kingdom of Israel? He left them his successor, his son Ahab, who led the people down many wrong paths.

Omri came to power in the midst of war, in the wake of assassinations, and when the country was divided. I Kings says that half the people backed Omri and the other half backed Tibni. Omri and Tibni battled it out in an intractable struggle for four years. Then Omri got the undisputed title, and Tibni went to the grave.

This does not sound so unfamiliar to me. Half the country was for one leader, the other half for another. The controversy went on for four years, and finally one of them emerged the victor over the other. It sounds like the last six years of U. S. politics. This country’s voting populace is so evenly divided between two parties that every election ends up with a dispute over who won. And with the margin of victory so narrow, who knows what people are willing to do to sway a few votes. Some try to intimidate voters to keep them from going out to vote. Others use mailings or phone calls to lie about where and when the vote is taking place. Some throw out perfectly good ballots that could hurt their party’s cause. Others take election results to court. Many of us wonder whether the coming use of electronic voting machines will bring an end to having our vote count if the machines can be programmed to ignore our decisions and mark ballots for whomever pays the programmers the best price. We face uncertainty, conflict, and division. So did the people who ended up with Omri as their king.

It was that chaotic reign that the Assyrians recorded as their name for the northern kingdom of Israel. Even after Omri’s descendents lost the throne, the Assyrians called this kingdom “the house of Omri.” They did not call it the house of Jereboam. They did not call it the house of Baasha. They did not call it the house of Jehu, even though Jehu was the one who unseated and executed the family of Ahab, son of Omri. So forever in the archives of Assyrian history, the northern kingdom has been known for a king whose reign was built on chaos and civil conflict.

The Psalmist’s words are an important reminder for those of us who find ourselves living in the house of Omri today. Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help. As Samuel warned, and Jeremiah reminded, depending on armies and violence and putting one person in charge over everyone is a bad plan that is bound to fail. One person is not capable of exercising that much power. Armies and violence produce more armies and violence. Autocratic leaders become self-centered and self-serving. They help their friends while everyone else pays the price. They talk as if they are for the people when behind the scenes they are robbing them of their prosperity and their dignity.

In our day leaders are promoting the use of torture, putting the energy companies in charge of the energy policy, taking away the right of habeus corpus, allowing unlimited imprisonment without charges, imprisonment without the right to communicate with a lawyer, allowing wiretapping of citizens without probable cause or a warrant, spending billions on a war of aggression while leaving hundreds of thousands of hurricane victims to fend for themselves, creating education policies designed to shift billions of dollars to private companies. In these times of chaos and division, leaders can manipulate the system to the great disadvantage of the common people.

This is the world we have been living in. We have been living in the house of Omri. And do not be fooled. It has not changed overnight. One day of voting did not transform a troubled and broken system into the Kingdom of God. When Saul died and David took his place, the problems did not go away. Solomon may have tried to be a uniter and not a divider, but when his son took power, the country split and civil war ensued. One election did not remove the dangers and turn the U. S. into the land of eternal happiness. For generations after Omri’s reign, people still called the northern kingdom of Israel “the house of Omri.” And when they stopped calling it that, it was because the kingdom had been defeated, destroyed, and deported.

To be continued . . .