Farenheit 451

Farenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. New York: Ballantine Books, 1996 (first published 1953). $15.00, 179 pp.

I spent a couple Sundays in November rereading some of my favorite dystopic science fiction novels, and this classic was at the top of that list. Originally published in 1953, Bradbury's warning polemic against illiteracy, censorship, and entertaining distractions still rings true today. The author has an excellent writing style, the book is fast-paced but filled with evocative details, and I have to stop after reading to think about the underlying themes. What more could one want from a science fiction novel?

The book is set in a future America on the brink of war with a Soviet-like foreign aggressor. The domestic population, meanwhile, remains utterly impervious to the impending horrors of nuclear war, nestled as they are in their cocoons of ignorance and distractions. Firefighters in this world serve as the bulwarks against self-awareness and knowledge with the task of burning books and the heretics who would claim that historical knowledge, context, and complexity are necessary for the well-being of any society.

The protagonist of the novel, Guy Montag, is a firefighter who has spent his life burning books, but now encounters a crisis of faith when he confronts a young girl who thinks about the world she lives in. Like many dystopias, the world quickly unravels once the protagonist--armed with the knowledge that he is living in a sick society that does not know it is sick--begins to question and fight against the stated claims of his society.

In reading the novel this time, I was struck by two observations that undermine the author's thesis. First, Bradbury and other dystopic authors from the 20th century appear to universally overstate new technology trends while simultaneously failing to creativity imagine how such technologies could benefit the moral character of society. Bradbury foresaw no future for the radio and felt that television would quickly degenerate into bread and circuses. While I certainly agree that the form of media matters (see my review of Neil Postman's book on the subject), surely even Bradbury would have to acknowledge that television has also enabled broader audiences for intellectual discussions and has given birth to other, more interactive media via the internet. And lest we forget, radio is alive and well and may even be entering a renaissance era with podcasts and Pandora helping it along. No one technology or media trend has so captured society as to remove all other forms of interaction or discourse. And as such, we are left with the positives and negatives of many innovations, forms of media, and political inclinations.

Second, Bradbury takes himself and his message a bit too seriously. The ultimate message I take away from Guy Montag and his traveling companions/walking library at the end of the novel is that we should never be so presumptuous as to believe that our era has all the answers. Yet in an ironic way, the author establishes himself as a literary prophet, guiding society past the ills of censorship and frivolous entertainment. This tone is condescending at times, especially in the coda (written in 1979) and afterword (written in 1982).

With that said, I still love the book for its excellent story, important message, and imaginative world.  In my own life, I have my seashells, talking walls (my screens are admittedly much smaller though), fast transportation, and distracting pursuits. I struggle to find the time to read and the motivation to research the context and complexity behind modern issues. But ultimately, the world is not so bad nor ignorant as Bradbury might have predicted. For that I am grateful.

For the Good of Mankind

For the Good of Mankind: A History of the People of Bikini and their Islands by Jack Niedenthal, 2001. Majuro, Marshall Islands: Bravo Publishers, $16.95, 226 pp.

Anthropologists throughout the world spend significant time and ink chronicling lost cultures and dying languages. Frequently, such social scientists attempt to approach a culture objectively (as they might define such a word), draw broader conclusions from their case study, and leverage their newfound knowledge for academic promotions or designations as a "world expert in the culture of...." Niedenthal is not this type of anthropologist. In fact, he is not an anthropologist at all but rather a dedicated adopted member of the Marshallese community who  has compiled here an impressive number of first-hand accounts from the of the Bikinians in the sixty years since the United States tested its first atomic weapon on Bikini atoll. Peppered throughout the accounts are the author's own observations from the past three decades he has dedicated to the Bikinians. Although the book could have used a professional editor and the flow of the narrative is jarring at times, the underlying material is so impressive as to overwhelm any stylistic flaws.

The Bikinians left their island in 1946, accepting the statement of Commodore Ben Wyatt at the time that the move would be temporary and that doing so would be "for the good of mankind and to end all world wars." For the next three years, the 167 islanders would be relocated on Rongerik, then Kwajalein, then Kili Island. Each temporary home was unable to sustain the growing community. While Kili became something of a permanent home, it lacked a lagoon and could not naturally supply the people with food or shelter from the ocean. For twelve years Bikini and Enewetak atolls would be the location for over 60 nuclear tests. After 25 years, some were allowed to return to Bikini atoll only to have medical researchers report six years later, in 1978, that some exhibited high levels of radiation. The island was again evacuated. Today, there are no permanent residents on Bikini, but over 4,000 Marshallese trace their heritage to the island and are dispersed throughout the Marshall Islands and the United States.

Their six decades as an internally displaced population has not been entirely negative for the Bikinians however. Trust funds established by the United States government and medical treatment programs ensure that Bikinians have some of the highest living standards and longest life expectancies of all Marshallese. King Juda, the Iroij (high chieftain) of the Bikinians said "Everything is in the hands of God," And in the stories that Niedenthal has compiled here, we catch a glimpse of that quiet fortitude that enables the Bikinians to live and thrive even in difficult circumstances.

Even though it has been over 50 years since the United States tested nuclear weapons in the Marshall Islands, feelings are still raw and misunderstandings abound. I applaud the author for going beyond the nuclear angle of the Bikinian's plight and writing about the individualities, histories, and personal observations of the community. Niedenthal states in the introduction that he got the idea of recording the stories of some of the Bikini elders after discovering that some of their own offspring were unaware of the community's recent history. But he goes beyond a mere oral history compilation. Marshallese are excellent storytellers, but they won't just tell them to anyone. Jack has earned their trust through years of dedicated service, and the level of detail and emotion in each story is evidence of that fact.

The book lacks a strong overall narrative, and typesetting and design is relatively crude. But given that this book was written ten years ago and produced in the Marshall Islands, I am impressed that it was published at all. Books like these that tell the important story of marginalized and small communities will never make much money. But the stories are important nonetheless and are an important reminder of the hidden costs to the Cold War, nuclear weapons, and global realpolitik.

Untying the Knot

Untying the Knot: Making Peace in the Taiwan Strait by Richard C. Bush. Washington: Brookings Institution Press, 2005. $24.95, 416 pp.

With much of my academic studies focused on the European continent and its history of conflict and integration, I have not spent much time examining the central issues facing East Asia and the Pacific area. Living in the middle of the Pacific has helped hone my interest however, and I have been particularly focused as of late on the Taiwan Strait conflict. The subject is particularly applicable in the Marshall Islands, which recognizes Taiwan as the Republic of China. For a deeper look at this issue then, I turned to Richard Bush, who has been heavily involved in Taiwan-China issues for over two decades and who has the academic and policy background to properly contextualize the conflict.

The Taiwan Strait conflict strikes at the very heart of Westphalian sovereignty and security. Who represents China? Who has the right to declare independence and under what circumstances? When can a country respond militarily to a perceived threat? When Chiang Kai-shek and the Republic of China government fled mainland China in 1949, it was as if two parallel historical narratives were created. The communists and Mao Zedong had de facto rule of all of mainland China and acted accordingly. The Nationalists and their successors on Taiwan continued to claim de jure sovereignty over all of China. These competing claims continued apace but essentially reversed themselves: today, the Republic of China has de facto rule of the island of Taiwan while the People’s Republic of China claims de jure sovereignty. Who is right?

As the title suggests, the issues surrounding this conflict are complicated and yield no easy answers. Both political rhetoric and military resources plays an extremely important role. The People’s Republic of China (PRC) sees the question of international recognition at the core of its domestic legitimacy and will aggressively fight against any international role for Taiwan. Some of the most volatile flash points in the conflict have arisen from comments made by Taiwan leaders suggesting they have or will seek full independence. On the other side, the military buildup by China and the continuing sale of arms by the United States to Taiwan puts real firepower behind the rhetoric. For now, both sides have agreed to a tenuous truce, but the lack of trust, communication, and progress is frightening. The possibility of war is real.

Richard Bush writes well and is comprehensive in his examination. Drawing from his own experience serving as the Chairman of the American Institute in Taiwan from 1997 to 2002 and through a close examination of the major strands of the Gordian knot, he effectively conveys the seriousness of this situation for all parties concerned, especially the U.S. The Taiwan Strait conflict is not currently a major theme in current events, and for that we should be grateful. But if and when the situation escalates, I sincerely hope that cooler heads, such as Richard Bush, will prevail and be able to guide policymakers through the intricacies of cross-strait relations.

There are only three faults with the book, none of which can be directly attributed to the author. First, the book was finished in 2005, just as Chen Shui-bian won a second term as President of Taiwan. While Bush does a good job examining how his reelection will impact relations, I feel that if he had waited perhaps one more year he would have been able to provide a little more contemporary context for the new detente between the PRC and Taiwan. Of course, I cannot imagine any author sitting on a book for one year, and really the responsibility rests with the reader to take the book’s broad narrative and examine current events in that light. Second, the view of the conflict is in sharper focus from Taiwan’s perspective than from mainland China’s perspective. Bush himself acknowledges that he places much of the blame for current tensions at the feet of the PRC and is not surreptitious in his bias, understandable given his professional background. The existing governance structure of mainland China makes it further difficult to gather the full details about what is going on in the minds of communist leaders. Given these handicaps, Bush does a decent job exploring the conflict from the perspective of communist China.

Finally, the author fails to provide one quick punchy solution for resolving the conflict. In an age of talking heads and quick opinions, the lack of a comprehensive policy prescription is notable. He explores ideas such as iterative reciprocal agreements to escape the existing prisoner’s dilemma and institutional development, but ultimately throws up his hands and says, essentially, “Someone has to go first.” For now, we remain in a stable status quo. But when change comes, I sincerely hope the leaders involved can take the same measured and comprehensive approach this book does.