Between my work as a sci-fi author, my creative writing courses at the University, and an earlier article I wrote for the Campus Times, I’ve started to face an age-old question surrounding authors’ moral obligations. I have been considering darker content and themes like violence, war, and political extremism that can be either deep and informational or shallow and toxic depending on their execution. Though I recall a wealth of discussion about the role of violent or toxic video games and films in society, the role of written speculative fiction seems less discussed in my lifetime.
A spectrum emerges in these works between the most complex examinations of themes like war and genocide (for example, Adrian Tchaikovsky’s “The Final Architecture”) to the most oversimplified, propagandistic, or otherwise “pulpy” depictions of violence seen elsewhere. Most stories in modern fiction seem to fall somewhere in the middle, with an increasing number reaching toward the complex edge. Pierce Brown’s “Red Rising” series is perhaps the best example of this. At its heart, the series has far more elements of extremely violent action-adventure than of philosophical introspection. But on re-examination, characters who use war, violent uprising, and political extremism are depicted as complex individuals who inevitably face direct social, political, physical, and moral consequences for their actions.
This presents an important question: is this just another story about ragtag revolutionaries ultimately overcoming evil foes, or is there more here that contributes positively to society, beyond simple entertainment?
In the speculative genres of science fiction and fantasy — those at the center of my study, reading, and writing — themes of violence, politics, and war are not always central in every work (i.e., compared to war films or political thrillers), but nevertheless these themes often appear as backdrops for epic adventures, sources of antagonism or danger, or stimuli for in-depth moral and social examination. Often, morally questionable methods like political violence, violent resistance, or (in the most extreme cases) terrorism and war crimes are also used by both protagonists and antagonists in the most sweeping plots of war and social upheaval.
Depicting fictional war, violence, and extremism in my own writing, I often face this question as well. Perhaps ironically, one of the reasons why I started writing in the first place was because I felt that some of my favorite franchises (like the original “Star Wars”) were insufficiently complex in terms of their fictional depictions of these themes. I wanted to write fiction that, while still being transportive and dramatic, also featured the moral and sociopolitical complexity of the real-world events I learned about in school or in hour-long dives through Wikipedia pages.
As such, I believe that fiction on these themes has a place on bookshelves and in society as a whole, only if it is done responsibly. Wars should not be simple clashes between good and evil, but complex conflicts with a wide range of aftereffects. The balance of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ aftereffects should further be dependent not on the tone of the story, but on the circumstances. This allows for moral examination of violence with the “lure” of gripping action and well-written characters that still appeal to wide audiences. Politics and political violence should likewise appear not as simple binaries, but as more realistic symptoms of a sociopolitical spectrum between “bad” and “relatively better,” ripe with moral grayness and unpredictable consequences.
In short, those authors (myself included) who aim to publish such stories should take into account the realistic complexity of the aforementioned themes, whether we aim to tell a comprehensive philosophical narrative, provide simple entertainment, or even subtly discuss political viewpoints. Since moral complexity often goes hand-in-hand with memorable characters and plots, I see no reason why oversimplified fictional violence in literature would necessarily be more appealing than something that is complex, thought-provoking, and likely more entertaining. After all, isn’t the old good-beats-evil war plot getting a little old by now?
And while written fiction remains only one influence among many in modern culture, treating these themes properly could help authors avoid falling into the pit of toxic culture in modern America, one where militant imperialism is once again openly discussed and critical viewpoints on complex issues seem to face increasing headwinds from a polarized sociopolitical climate.
Reassuringly, the more recently published books I read, the more I see these themes dealt with responsibly. With concerted effort, this could become an opportunity to ensure fiction fulfills its ultimate purpose: to create stories and share experiences that make the world a better place.
