Hello readers! Welcome to part two of my attempt to define science fiction. Last week I gave a brief history of the genre and mentioned some very old stories that have each been labelled “the first science fiction” by various academics. This week we will delve a bit deeper and explore the dividing line between science and fantasy, then ponder the potential repercussions of genre definitions and media categorisation.
Our mental image of science fiction
Let’s start with some word association. What is the first image to pop into your head when someone says science fiction? For me, the words conjure up alien planets – and I suspect that this is a common response. However, in the absence of a public survey, I was forced to turn to the Bing Image Generator. I asked it for a “science fiction book cover”, and just as I expected, it presented me with lots of big, round spaceships, shiny planets, and long-faced, big-eyed blue aliens (you know the ones). It also presented me with a space-laser gun being fired by a disembodied alien hand, but I think this was an indication of shoddy algorithms rather than inspired creativity. Apparently, our initial perception of science fiction is surprisingly specific.
If you think about the term a moment longer, of course, the mental image starts to change. It may start to include “real-life” stories set on real planets (The Martian), or stories set on Earth, in the past (The Prestige), the present (Arrival), the near future (most Black Mirror episodes), or the far future (The City and the Stars). Then there is the time travel genre (Doctor Who) and alternative timelines genre (the Fallout games). Our initial mental image of science fiction doesn’t capture even half of the definition.
It seems to me that our perception has been heavily influenced by the pulp magazines of the 1930s to 60s. These were mostly cheesy space operas, light on the “science” and heavy on the guns, spaceships, and scantily-clad alien ladies. Most of these stories didn’t stand the test of time, but they paved the way for one of the most successful media franchises in history: Star Wars. Almost everyone on the planet has been exposed to George Lucas’ Jedi mind tricks, and the global perception of science fiction has warped in response. For many of us, this was our first introduction to the genre – so our initial mental image is no surprise.
Still, isn’t it mad that a single term encapsulates such a range of media? Somehow, Black Mirror, The Hitchhiker’s Guide, Minority Report, Akira, Star Wars and Gravity have ended up living under the same roof. Amazon divides science fiction books into sixteen sub-categories, suggesting that the overarching genre means very little – so what, if anything, ties these disparate franchises together?
Back to basics: what is science?
It would be reasonable to assume that science is the thread connecting all science fiction. However, science isn’t an object, or a specific technology. It is merely a method used to understand the world. Living creatures are not science, and neither are machines. The existence of an alien planet is not science, but the discovery of it is. So, capturing science in a story is hardly straightforward.
The scientific method follows four basic steps. The first is an observation, which prompts the observer to ask a question (“that’s a nice rock – but how did it get there?”). The second step is to come up with some possible explanations, called hypotheses (“oooh, maybe it formed from volcanic ash?”). The third step is to test whether these hypotheses are feasible, which is usually easiest to do by proving them infeasible (“oh dear – there are no ash particles and it’s entirely crystalline”). After testing every possible avenue, we can either accept or reject our original idea – this is step four. If we reject it, we go back to step two and come up with another hypothesis (“maybe it was a lava flow?”). In fact, we may need to go back to step one to make sure our observation was correct (“am I sure this isn’t concrete?”). However, once we accept a hypothesis, we can tentatively present this as fact. I say tentatively, because there is always the opportunity for someone to disprove it and come up with something better (“actually, your rock was ash, but it was so hot that it welded into something crystalline, you absolute buffoon”).
So, now that we have a firmer definition of science, how do we define science fiction? Where do the blue aliens come into all this?
Distinguishing science and technology
The scientific method has revolutionised the way we understand the world. We now have a better idea of our place in the solar system, in Earth history, and in a complex environmental network. However, the most obvious impact of science in our daily lives is technology. Tech innovations can be inspired by scientific breakthroughs, but they can also occur in response to scientific needs; for example, if scientists need to measure something more accurately or see something in more detail.
However, science and technology are not interchangeable terms. Plenty of technological innovations have arrived through trial and error, without a full understanding of the physical processes responsible. For example, early humans made metal alloys without any knowledge of atoms. We made telescopes to see distant stars without understanding the physical state of the glass within the lenses. Even today, we use trial and error to design enormous rockets to send to the Moon – so we don’t necessarily know why these technologies work.
Am I being pedantic? Probably. But it seems to me that a lot of science fiction is actually technology fiction, with storylines revolving around objects that could easily have been created in the absence of the scientific method.
What is science fiction if science is truth?
We have arrived at an interesting conundrum. If science is a method, and technology is not science, how do we incorporate science into fiction? Some science fiction stories are entirely grounded in scientific understanding, to the extent that each plot point could be verified with a textbook. Take The Martian, for example. The character and scenario are fictional, but the places and processes are not. Every plot point fits into our current understanding of physics and Martian geography – so this would appear to be science fiction in its strictest sense.
However, this definition is rather broad. If science fiction refers to any story that is demonstrably feasible, this includes everything that isn’t fantasy. If science is simply truth, then any real-world story could be science fiction. Pride and Prejudice. Of Mice and Men. The Thursday Murder Club. Clearly, we need to refine our definition.
Perhaps science fiction should only include truth born of scientific discovery? In this case, we need only to include stories that yield Science papers when we Google their plot. Still, this feels like a risky definition. These days, almost all discoveries are scientific, and in time, these will be accepted as fact without anyone citing the original source. For example, the terms “gravity” and “evolution” aren’t considered scientific by most people, because they are no longer cutting-edge. New stories based on recent discoveries might feel scientific to us, but to people consuming them 100 years down the line, the scientific edge might be lost. It would seem foolish to create a time-dependent genre definition – but can we think of anything better?
Distinguishing science and fantasy
Many stories commonly regarded as science fiction show no regard for facts and logic. Sometimes a story is pitched as a thought experiment, and we are asked to imagine a universe in which some fundamental law of physics has been disproved (e.g., the entropy reversal in Tenet – but don’t get me started). Other times, broken physics goes unexplained, at which point the “science fiction” label becomes questionable.
Stories that use thought experiments to push the boundaries of understanding are often viewed as the most sophisticated science fiction on the market. They engage readers with cutting-edge science, and broadcast new ideas to a wider audience. Sometimes these stories can trigger theoretical breakthroughs; for example, the infamous black hole scene in Interstellar gave physicists access to a multi-million dollar effects budget, allowing them to explore the distortion of light. There is clearly much to be gained from this speculative branch of science fiction, even if these stories are based on hypotheses rather than theories.
However, speculation can easily detach from reality. Disaster films often use the “this might happen” premise to explore natural disasters. They sometimes use scientific advisers, but directors will cherry-pick which parts of reality they want to include, and which parts they want to ignore. These hypothetical disasters are often considered science fiction, even though they are dominantly fantasy.
Finally, we have stories where places, creatures and technologies are presented with no physical explanation. Typical hallmarks of this genre include inexplicable machines or abilities (reading minds, telekinesis, time machines, etc.), or a total disregard for the laws of physics (only putting thrusters on the back of spaceships). Although these stories appear to have scientific elements, there is nothing inherently scientific about inventing a planet, species, or spaceship – we just associate fictional worlds with real life space exploration. Again, there is an element of time dependence involved. In a future where spaceships are as commonplace as aeroplanes, nobody would view spaceships as science. This all boils down to a simple fact: any story that breaks the laws of physics without explanation is fantasy. And Star Wars has just as much scientific basis as our friend Domingo Gonsales tying geese to his boat and sailing to the Moon (adiós).
Have we reached a definition?
No. It appears to be impossible to define science fiction based on current perceptions, which cover a wide spectrum. On one side we have fantasy stories that happen to be set in space and include aliens, where the term “science” is only invoked to provide a separation from traditional fantasy. Then we have a central grey area, housing speculative stories with a loose scientific basis. On the other side, we have stories based on stone-cold scientific facts, which one day might not be considered science at all.
As flawed as this system might be, it is probably here to stay. Science fiction is a meaningless term, but that is why we use sub-genres, and sub-sub-genres, to find that these are not the stories we are looking for.
Why should we care?
The definition of science fiction has importance beyond academic interest. Genre definitions are critical for genre-specific publishers and prizes – just imagine if a Hugo Award went to some young-adult dystopian upstart! Humanity would perish in the tsunami of strongly worded opinion pieces (not that the Hugo Awards have been entirely controversy-free in recent years). We also established that the general first impression of science fiction is a cheesy space opera, so the term could be considered detrimental to more sophisticated, philosophical works. It’s hard to see the genre shaking off this misguided image any time soon, but it will influence creators and consumers alike.
On a slightly darker note, we must remember that all modern media consumption is driven by categorisation. In this current capitalist hellscape, the survival of creativity requires profit, and profit is driven by marketing algorithms, which in turn rely on labels and tags. The fastest way to keep consumers engaged is to feed them more of the same, and this drives creators and audiences into designated lanes. A creator trying to break out of the mould will face an uphill battle, so knowing whether to pitch a product as science fiction can be the difference between success and failure.
In summary…
I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into scientific semantics. I managed to make it this far without plugging my own work, but if you aren’t aware, I have written three science fiction novels of my own. As for upcoming blog posts, there have been a number of “science fiction” films released this winter, so look out for reviews. With that, happy reading, and have a lovely week!
Discover more from C. W. Clayton
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
