Of course I’ve read a moderate amount of Michael Moorcock, but I haven’t for some time and, as I finished the Jack Vance book and went to the library for the next volume I looked for a change of pace to take along with the Vance. Moorcock had been on my mind for a while now, because he, as much as anyone I can think of–save Octavia Butler–is the great example of an intellectually-rigorous, politically-Left sci-fi/fantasy/speculative fiction.
Genuinely excellent politically engaged literature is not easy to come by, but it’s fantastic when one does. I wouldn’t even say so much that both Moorcock and Butler are writers first and advocates of a political agenda second but that their politics is inseparable from their storytelling and their storytelling is that much more compelling because it does have political content.
Now, I had been very aware of Moorcock’s politics even before I’d read any of the Elric books, which threaded a critique of the type of Christian morality (and its political form) that presented itself, much more artfully to be sure than in C.S. Lewis‘ fantasies, in Tolkien. It is easy and not wrong to link Moorcock’s coherently anarchist sensibilities to his most famous hero, whose first act in the narrative was to dismantle a government.
I write this, but I will say that I was almost taken aback by precisely how front and center the politics are in The Land Leviathan, much more so than in at least the original Elric stories. Briefly, the book can be described as an “alternate history,” the first of its kind that I’ve read per se. Oswald Bastable, Victorian Englishman, has become, much like Vonnegut’s hero but admittedly less funny, unstuck in time. Bastable finds himself bouncing back and forth between alternate futures and pasts. In the one that occupies this book’s narrative, he finds himself in an alternate first decade of the twentieth century. Development of advanced technologies have given the human race extraordinary powers of destruction, and by the time Bastable arrives on the scene global war has been going on for years and the countries which had run the nineteenth century more or less have been reduced to rubble. Bastable uses the word “Apocalypse” more than once.
The healthiest society on the planet, pacifist and isolationist, is the former South Africa, named Bantustan, led by President Ghandi. Other African peoples are led by “The Black Attila,” a black American man who only appears if my memory is correct in the last third of the book. Prior to that, he exists only in reputation. The Europeans or those of European ancestry from whom Bastable hears rumor consider him to be simultaneously a genius and a savage. He has, it is said, declared genocidal war on the white race. Moorcock’s alternate past is, more or less, an inversion of the nineteenth century imperialist world order, which to be certain persisted in essential features through until 1974 when the book was published and indeed continues in broad strokes until today.
Moorcock caught me off-guard. It was very clear that Bastable, with whom I felt sympathy for the overwhelming reason that he was the protagonist of the narrative, had a clear distaste for what he imagined to be the Black Attila’s project, and he voiced his distaste in terms colored by the type of garden-variety racism of middle-class white people. Without doubt, Bastable wouldn’t attend a lynching, let alone participate in one, yet he certainly wouldn’t support a Federal lynching law. I wondered, indeed was concerned, that Bastable, in a book written as the 1960’s left coalitions, to the extent that they ever really operated as coalitions, had fragmented, largely through a concerted effort by the FBI to infiltrate and otherwise discredit radical organizations, particularly black radical organizations, the Black Panther Party above all. I wondered if Moorcock had bought the bull***t about the Panthers.
I was relieved, then, to find that as the book progressed that Moorcock revealed not only that the Black Attila’s reputation among the remaining white powers of the world was a reflection of racist ideology rather than reality, but that those white powers, particularly in the course of the narrative those in North America, were themselves the barbaric forces of the world. Moorcock deserves huge credit for using the technique of alternate history to expose the historical reality of the overwhelming virulence of classical white ideology. “Classical white ideology”: if the term doesn’t yet properly exist, I’m pleased to have coined it. In any event, Moorcock is correct to show the white power structure of the United States trying to reinstate racialized slavery. There continue to be lots of white people in the United States today who wish precisely that.
It’s interesting, though, that Moorcock uses the plot device of a race war. I’ve heard lots of people talk about the idea of a race war, or as they saw it the inevitability of a race war. I’ve heard people speak of it with fear, and a few with relish. Whatever the approach, every single one of these people has been white. I have never, not once, heard a person of color talk about a “race war” except to tell the white knucklehead that such a thing was a crazy idea and that in any event were such a thing to happen, given how the past 500 years have gone down, it wasn’t white people who needed to be scared. It should be stressed here that Nat Turner’s rebellion spared poor whites. “Race war” is simply not something any people of color I have ever known want to imagine. The reality of North America–I write of where I live–is a low-intensity race war to this day, if one we can qualify in any number of different ways.
So it’s interesting that Moorcock’s imagined revolutionary-apocalypse takes the form of an inverted white imagination. Without question Moorcock knows who the villains of history are: he really does. He breaks out of that trap of classical white ideology. But he does so not by escaping it, but by inverting it, which is no escape at all.
Still, a fantastic read. Moorcock is tops, really tops.