Isaac Asimov: The Foundations of Science Fiction (Revised Edition) (9 page)

BOOK: Isaac Asimov: The Foundations of Science Fiction (Revised Edition)
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Asimov was as open about the origins of the Foundation stories as he was about the other details of his life and writing. One of the charms about the man was his openness. Well, openness may be understatement: after 1962 all of Asimov's anthologies and collections of stories were strung together like ornaments on the string of his life story, culminating in
Opus 100, Opus 200, Opus 300,
his 640,000-word autobiography and his 260,000-word memoirs.
In his autobiography and a piece he contributed to the
Science Fiction Writers of America Bulletin
in 1967 titled "There's Nothing Like a Good Foundation," Asimov traced the idea for the Foundation stories to a 1941 subway ride when he was going to visit Campbell at his Street & Smith office. Searching for an idea, Asimov looked down at a collection of Gilbert and Sullivan plays he was reading, opened it to
lolanthe,
and saw a picture of the fairy queen kneeling in front of Private Willis of the Grenadier Guards. His mind wandered to soldiers, to a military society, to feudalism, to the breakup of the Roman Empire. When he reached Campbell's office, he told the editor that he was planning to write a story about the breakup of the Galactic Empire. "He talked and I talked and he talked and I talked and when I left I had the Foundation series in mind." Exactly what Asimov had in mind may affect the critic's judgment of the work. He had not, for instance, thought out all the different permutations in idea and story; they were built, one on another, as the years passed and the
Trilogy
developed. But he must have discussed with Campbell the implications of prediction. Some critics have tried to explain "psychohistory" on philosophical bases, as ''the science that Marxism never became" (Wollheim) or "the vulgar, mechanical, debased version of Marxism promulgated in the Thirties" (Elkins). Elkins also related the
Trilogy's
enduring popularity to its fatalism, which "accurately sizes up the modern situation."
People do talk a great deal about determinism in the
Trilogy.
When Bel Riose is informed by Ducem Barr of Seldon's predictions, he says, "Then we stand clasped tightly in the forcing hand of the Goddess of Historical Necessity?" But Barr corrects him: "Of Psycho-Historical Necessity." And Riose is defeated, apparently, by what seem like Seldon's inexorable laws.
Psychohistory had its origins not in Marxism (Asimov has called Wollheim's speculation "reading his bent into me," for Asimov had "never read anything about it") but in John Campbell's ideas about symbolic logic. Symbolic logic, if further developed, Campbell told the
young Asimov in their first discussion, would so clear up the mysteries of the human mind that human actions would be predictable. Campbell more or less forced Asimov to include some references to symbolic logic in the first story, "Foundation" "forced," because Asimov knew nothing about symbolic logic and did not believe, as Campbell insisted, that symbolic logic would "unobscure the language and leave everything clear." Asimov made a comparison to the kinetic theory of gases, ''where the individual molecules in the gas remain as unpredictable as ever, but the average action is completely predictable."
The spirit of the early stories, however, is determinedly anti-deterministic. If intelligent, courageous, and forceful individuals do not attempt to retrieve the situation, most crises all but one, perhaps will not be resolved satisfactorily. Seldon's predictions, like God's will, are hidden from all the characters except the psychologists of the Second Foundation, as they are from the reader. Seldon's prophecies are revealed only after the fact, and even the solutions that he or others say are obvious are obvious only in retrospect, as in all good histories. At the time, they are not obvious to anyone but Salvor Hardin or Hober Mallow; the reader has no feeling that the crises would have been resolved if persons such as Hardin and Mallow had not been there. Moreover, the predictions of psychohistory are expressed as probabilities, and one of the necessary ingredients of Seldon's Plan, discussed in detail in "Search by the Foundation," is the exercise of normal initiative.
As a matter of fact, Asimov has the best of both determinism and free will. Psychohistory and Seldon's Plan provide the framework for diverse episodes about a variety of characters over a period of four hundred years, and those episodes feature a number of strong-minded individuals seeking solutions to a series of problems as they arise. If determinism alone were Asimov's subject, the
Trilogy
would reveal characters continually defeated in their attempts to change events, or manipulated like puppets by godlike prophets, or unable to fight the onrushing current of necessity.
A work in which characters were inexorably defeated by psychohistorical necessity would be so depressing that it would not have remained popular for more than a quarter of a century. Bel Riose is the only character who stares into the face of determinism; only he is frustrated by psychohistorical necessity rather than by the actions of an individual. But in "The General," Bel Riose is not the viewpoint character. The basis of the story is not Riose's predicament but how he is to be stopped, and the resolution does not celebrate the victory of determinism but the survival of the Foundation, even though the efforts of the Foundation
are not involved. The reader, whose sympathies are with the Foundation, sees the events as an ally of the Foundation, not as an opponent. The Foundation's unusual power of survival, however, influences both itself and its enemies; it supplies to the Foundation confidence in ultimate victory (which can become overconfidence, and thus a problem), and it discourages the Foundation's attackers (but never enough to eliminate challenges entirely). Asimov seems to be more interested in the psychological impact of Seldon's Plan than in its philosophical implications. Indeed, it is only to those looking from the outside that Seldon's Plan seems like determinism; from within, the Foundation leaders still must find solutions without Seldon's help.
Even in the second half of the
Trilogy,
questions of free will raised by the events of the story relate not to Seldon's Plan but to the psychological manipulation of minds such as that effected by the Mule and the Second Foundation psychologists. Nothing in the story happens unless someone makes it happen; the reader is told on several occasions that "Seldon's laws help those who help themselves."
The Biblical parallel is significant. Psychohistory is no more restrictive of free will than the Judeo-Christian deity. Christians are given free will by an omniscient God; characters in the
Trilogy
receive free will from an omniscient author, as an act of authorial necessity. At the end of
Second Foundation,
Seldon's Plan has been restored, events are back on their ordered course, the rise of a new and better Empire to reunite the Galaxy and the creation of a new civilization based on mental science seem assured. The Second Foundation psychologists have won; that victory, benevolent as it seems, may have ominous undertones, but if we are to accept Asimov as being as benevolent as he is omniscient, the reader can assume that the benefits of mental science will be available to everyone.
Determinism, then, is not what the Trilogy is about. The structure of the episodes is anti-deterministic, for the outcome of each critical event is not inevitable. The basic appeal of the stories is problem-solving, an essential replacement for the more customary narrative drives of action and romance. Each episode presents a problem, in a way much like the formal detective story, and challenges the reader to find a solution. In the first published story, "Foundation," the solution is withheld until the next episode, a strategy of Asimov's to ensure a sequel (published in the very next issue) that almost accidentally reinforced the problem-solving quality of the stories. For the reader, the fascination lies in the presentation of clues, the twists of plot, and the final solution that makes sense of it all. In the final episode of "Foundation," Jorane Sutt
says to Hober Mallow, "There is nothing straight about you; no motive that hasn't another behind it; no statement that hasn't three meanings." He might have been speaking of Asimov.
The series of searches for the Second Foundation, the various clues pursued to inconclusive ends, the near revelation by Ebling Mis of its location (though he may have been wrong), and the succession of incorrect solutions shows Asimov imitating the methods of the detective novel. In response to Campbell's challenge, he later shaped those kinds of devices more obviously into science-fiction detective novels and stories beginning with
The Caves of Steel
(serialized in 1953). In the final chapter of
Second Foundation,
with its succession of " `I've got the answer' `No, I've got the answer'" reversals, Asimov no doubt is parodying the concluding scenes of a thousand formal detective novels.
But even the problem-solving aspect of the
Trilogy
does not account completely for the success of the series. Other aspects, more peripheral to the central structure, might be cited: the characters, for instance, though scorned by some critics, engage the reader's sympathies. They are similar to each other, it is true, mostly by being men and women of action. They do not let events happen to them (as might seem more appropriate if the theme of the
Trilogy
actually was determinism); they make things happen. The
Trilogy,
after all, is a history, and history is about people who have made things happen. The characters may not be strongly differentiated Salvor Hardin, Limmar Ponyets, Hober Mallow, and Lathan Devers may seem interchangeable but they may be as differentiated as the personages in most histories. Men and women of action, in and out of fiction, are much alike. Clearly Asimov's characters are adequate for the purposes they serve in the
Trilogy.
Asimov also provided some of his philosophy of history in his storytelling. History fascinated him. He almost took his graduate degree in history instead of chemistry; his customary method of developing both his fiction and his non-fiction was historical; and a number of his non-fiction books are concerned with history (of his 470 books Asimov listed 19 under "history"). Some of what Asimov says about history comes from his model, Gibbon's
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire;
little seems to derive from Marxism or whatever impressions of it were in the air when the
Trilogy
was being conceived and created, and a good deal seems to be Asimov's own observations. Government, for instance, never is what it appears to be: in the
Trilogy
figureheads and powers behind the throne proliferate. Every innovation rigidifies into sterile tradition, which must, in turn, be overturned: the grip of the Encyclopedists, for instance, must be broken by Salvor Hardin, and the political
power of the Mayor must be broken, in its turn, by Hober Mallow, and the economic power of the Traders must then be modified by the incorporation of the independent traders, and so on. There is, to be sure, a narrative necessity to keep the series going, but the reader cannot ignore the inevitable feeling of continual change, which seems a philosophy: one generation's solution is the next generation's problem. Asimov probably would have agreed that this is the case in real life.
On top of this, and perhaps the most important aspect of Asimov's writing, was his rationalism. More than any other writer of his time (the Campbell era, as Asimov called it) or even during the twenty years between Campbell's death and Asimov's, Asimov spoke with the voice of reason. Avoid the emotional, the irrational, the
Trilogy
says. Avoid the obvious military reaction to threats of military attack, says Salvor Hardin. Do not throw the slender military might of the Foundation against the great battleships of the Empire, says Hober Mallow, whose continual retreat before the attacking Korellian forces is considered treason.
Rationality is the one human trait that can always be trusted, the
Trilogy
says, and the reader comes to believe that that was Asimov's conviction as well. Sometimes rational decisions are based on insufficient information and turn out to be wrong, or the person making the decision is not intelligent enough to see the ultimate solution rather than the partial one, but nothing other than reason works at all. Even the antagonists are as rational as the protagonists and therefore cannot legitimately be called villains. In the stories that Asimov liked best, rationality does not triumph over irrationality or emotion but over other rationality, as in the conflict between the Mule and Bayta (though the Mule is betrayed as well by an element of emotion unnatural to him), between the Mule and the First Speaker, and between the Second Foundation and the First Foundation.
Asimov's confidence in rationality must have been comforting to him not only in personal terms but in terms of the times when the stories were written and published. He was only twenty-one when he started writing "Foundation" and he had passed through a difficult adolescence. He was still ill at ease with women and society in general, and he was writing largely for maladjusted teenagers who had sublimated their sexual and social frustrations into various kinds of intellectual activity, including the reading of science fiction. Asimov's belief that reason could solve all problems not only was desirable, it may have been psychologically necessary. Moreover, events in the larger world, though they did not encourage a belief in the rationality of human behavior,
nourished the hope that rationality would prevail. The United States had pulled itself out of the incomprehensibility of the Depression only to plunge itself into the insanity of war. Just as the theory of psychohistory was for Asimov a way to make Hitler's persistent victories bearable no matter what initial successes the Nazis managed, the logic of history (psychohistory) would eventually bring about their defeat so reason eventually had to prove its supremacy. Later, as the Foundation stories began to appear, the success of the Allies, aided by products of scientific laboratories, confirmed that earlier faith.

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