Frank Herbert's Dune: Speculative Fiction Orientalism and Obscurity

          Frank Herbert’s epic science-fantasy series, Dune, was my first exploration of the science fiction genre and my first experience with Orientalist literature; albeit, I was unaware of the latter at the time of my reading. Being only an adolescent I was not yet aware of the work of Edward Said and would not come to read his works until late into my undergraduate education at university. Orientalist interpretations of Eastern culture and religion presuppose a binary between West and East that estranges the latter from the former. The values of the East are considered oppositional to those of the West and are conceived as a static totality. Such simplification enables Eastern culture to be more easily appropriated, commodified and exploited by Western influences. Whether the culture of East is considered superior or inferior to the West, it must inevitably be mastered by the West; either explicitly through the imposition of Western political power or implicitly through the rationalization of Eastern culture according to the dominant ideologies of Orientalist interpreters.

          The speculative future imagined in Dune contains several standard orientalist caricatures but none more so than in the white savior, Paul Mau’dib, the young noble who integrates himself with the primitive natives in order to liberate them against the threat of empire in Laurence-of-Arabia-fashion.  But if Dune can then be said to be Orientalist, it is, like much of speculative fiction, obscurely so. While it is an apparent work of science fiction, Dune posits an alien desert world, Arrakis, so estranged from the experience of the contemporary reader that it is difficult to conceive of it as a future reality as opposed to an alternative reality altogether. This estrangement is only intensified as the years since the novel’s original publication grow, and the pseudo-science of the world becomes less and less credible and coherent in comparison to contemporary scientific knowledge. Contrary to the expectations of science fiction literature however, it is not primarily the pseudo-scientific speculations that connect the fictional world of the Dune series to our own, but rather it is the language of the series that unites the two. The language of the series, or more precisely one of the languages within the series, is also the most apparent site of the series’ obscure Orientalism.

         

          Specifically it is Arabic-derived language of the Fremen desert nomads of Arrakis which provides the connection, albeit in clandestine fashion. At the time of my initial reading of Dune I did not recognize the Fremen language as based in Arabic, having no familiarity with the language or the concepts it expresses, and considered it another exercise in speculative neologisms. Speculative fiction, fantasy or science fiction, utilizes neologisms to construct an imagined alternative world or project ourselves into the language of an imagined future. As most writers of the genre write for English audiences, this linguistic contrast between the familiar and the alien is often done by contrasting English with an exotic-sounding language, whether historical or fantastical. After returning to the text with some familiarity of Arabic, minor as mine is, it was apparent to me that the words spoken by the Fremen (Muad’Dib, Usul, Shari-a, Lian al-Haib, ayat, Kitab al-Ibar, Shaitan, taqwa, dijihad, Sayaddin, jinn, etc ) are derivative of a familiar terrestrial origin in Arabic. What once appeared to be an alien language is now apparent as linguistic appropriation. The exoticism of fictional Fremen culture is a function of the reader’s own unfamiliarity with the Arabic language and Islamic culture and cosmology. Dune does not merely parallel the Orientalist binary between the familiarity of empire and the exoticism of primitive natives but projects it into the future.

          However there is not enough explicit context to determine whether the apparent Orientalism of the text is best interpreted as a representation of contemporary Islamic culture, a speculative projection of Islamic history, or the mere appropriation of a historical culture to provide the element of alien exoticism common to the speculative fiction genre. Speculative fiction requires both a familiar and an exotic language; the former to ground the reader to a relatable reality and the latter to push them beyond its horizon into unfamiliar and fascinating territory. When the pseudo-Arabic of Dune functions as a covert pedagogy in Arab and Islamic culture or whether it is the exploitation and manipulation of that very heritage in the service of speculative of entertainment remains a debatable question. The obscurity of Dune’s Orientalism, the indeterminacy of its intentionality, makes it a problematic work of speculative fiction. But to conclude that this uncertainty is nothing more than a deficiency of the series is to misunderstand the intellectual appeal and potential of speculative fiction.

          Such indeterminacy of intention complicates our world by either imagining alternative histories of this world as in science fiction or an alternative world altogether as is the case of fantasy fiction. Such exercises of the imagination speculate beyond the horizon of our immediate experience and expose us to that which is other. This is often criticized as escapist and in at least one sense I consider this a legitimate critique; by constructing an artificial world rationalized in pseudo-scientific or magical logic, such writing often rationalizes prejudicial stereotypes while simultaneously excusing them as mere speculative play. This writing provides the comforting possibility of escaping into a world where one’s thinking is not challenged by any external referent and casual prejudices and bigotry can be ignored if not celebrated as avatars of artistic freedom. The Fremen are not an Orientalist caricature of a “space Bedouin” because they are not real Bedouin but are Fremen, a futuristic and fictional culture. Speculative fiction abounds with the abominations of racist and Orientalist imaginings but to write explicitly against such naked prejudice misses the potential of speculative writing.

          Our world is not transparent and insofar as speculative fiction aspires towards the construction of realistic artificial worlds it ought to emulate an aura of uncertainty surrounding its world-building. Since such worlds are written and read into being through words, and the more ambiguous the language, the more open to interpretation the world they describe is. The use of neologisms in speculative fiction both liberates the world from prejudicial narratives while exposing our inevitably prejudicial interpretations we project upon the world to understand it. By using unfamiliar words to describe the world, the reader is forced to understand the meaning it communicates independent of automatic and unconscious associations more familiar words would have inherited. But at the same time, this unhistorical use of language opens the words up to wider, and therefore more personally prejudicial, interpretations analogous to a Rorschact ink-blot test.

         

          The significance of and relationship between the Fremen Arabic of the future and Arab-Islamic culture in the present is not obvious and is relative to one’s own prejudices and ignorance. A reader unfamiliar with such a cultural heritage will approach Dune as a mere space opera, but a reader aware of or identifying with such a culture will have a more consequential reading of the text.  Dune is very much written within the gaze of Oriental imperialism and the colonial white savior, but whether it is read that way depends very much upon one’s own cultural education and sensitivity. The series is certainly not an ideal way to educate one’s self on such a cultural history; for it isn’t concerned with familiarizing the reader with Arabic or Islam as historically understood but in utilizing them as pseudo-neologisms to construct an alien world.

          The extent of this estrangement depends upon one’s own limited exposure to and appreciation of other cultures and cosmologies. To the Arabic speaker or Muslim reader, this world will appear far more familiar, though not necessarily more welcome, given its Orientalist tropes. Dune is an imperfect exercise in speculative neologism and a perfect example of how speculative fiction appropriates the language and concepts of “exotic” cultures and translates them into “alien” ones. Exotic words may liberate our imaginations but only if those words are not appropriated from the heritage of people suffering under the prejudices of Orientalism and projects of colonialism. I look forward to a future where speculative fiction not only writes against the prejudices of empire, but is written by those outside its gaze. Thankfully that future appears both inevitable and immanent.

Note: all artwork is the copyright of artist Gorrem (Devon Cady-Lee)

Deviant, But Not Dead: In Between World-Building and Writing

I am aware that I have been neglectful of making essay posts to this blog in the past few months and promise to get back into it shortly but it has not been for lack of legitimate distractions. Not only have I been working on graduate school applications but I have begun work on a speculative fantasy world-building project posted to my Deviant Art profile. Right now it is only a few illustrations and light expository essays on some of them but I eventually plan to organize the project around several distinct worlds each with their own uniquely strange histories, geographies, ecosystems, cultures and most importantly for fantasy, magic systems. I am thinking of something in between Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere, the universe of Star Wars, and the respective multiverses of Magic the Gathering and Michael Moorcock with other influences ranging from The Witcher and The Elder Scrolls to The Malazan Book of the Fallen and the worlds of Warhammer. It is an ambitious project and I don’t plan on bringing it to fruition any time soon but I hope to provide something unique to the world-building community; each of my unique worlds will subvert and deconstruct the restrictive tropes of science and fantasy fiction which have placed them in an unrealistic and unproductive oppositional binary (with science fiction often seen as superior in hierarchy).  I suppose that makes the intention of my world-building project resemble the ambiguities of the science fantasy sub-genre or New Weird literary movement in speculative fiction. Think of China Mieville’s Bas-Lag series expanded to an entire multiverse for any idea of what I hope to accomplish. All of which to say I eventually want this world-building to be foundational and complementary to story narratives set across those worlds and not mere self-indulgent creativity. But first I must improve my capacity as a book writer before I can hope to move in that direction. And of course I do hope to return to writing essays here soon and have several works nearing completion at this time.  

For those that have read my post on science fiction writer Peter Watt’s recognition of my fan art for his Scramblers, you will already be familiar with my profile and art work. Below you will find several artworks related to my world-building aspirations and links to them on my profile. Hope you enjoy and feel free to explore the rest of my artwork; I plan on incorporating some of it into this world-building project. 

Glyvilgvishi

Glyvilgvishi are sorcery gone viral and left unchecked can proliferate into a supernatural pestilence. Their name means "glyph diseased" and as it suggests they are little more than a collection of sorcerous glyphs and enchanted objects resembling a living being. When sorcery is invoked it stains the world through which magic leaks from the planes of magic. If these glyphs are left unchecked they will rot and fester, mutating and spreading. Glyvilgvishi are as varied in form and power as the sorcerous languages that they are comprised of; when in the presence of foreign glyphs, they drawn them into their own forms and thereby further grow in power. Glyvilgvishi are only a threat to the extent that their glyphs are dangerous but there are a nuisance to the organized practice of sorcery as they feed upon and appropriate its magic into themselves. This is particularly problematic when dealing with them, since any sorcery invoked against them is liable to only exacervate it.

Ikasalik Necromancer

A Ikasalik necromancer dressed in the molded bones and boiled flesh-leathers common to its aristocratic class and ornamented with and coral collar and ceremonial coral cane. Crystals hang from its cloth and collar and contain servitor spirits bound by necromantic runes.

Yarabagi

Yarabagi or "old men of the swamp" are bipedal terrors that stalk the foggy banks of forest swamps. Their name is derived from their bearded appearance (common to both males and females) and bent posture. Village folklore describes the creatures as the demonic spirits of elderly relatives cast out by their unloving children into the swamp to die; yarabagi are believed to have crawled out of the swamps (swamps are believed to be gates to the underworld) to seek revenge against future generations by preying upon children. Indeed, yarabagi seem to prefer small children as prey, exhibiting an unusual power to lure children into the swampland with hypnotic hooting. Once the children are isolated and lost inside the fog, the yarabagi will sprint out howling and drown the child in the mud or dash them upon rocks before bending over to feast upon the corpse.

Piribagi

Piribagi or "children of the swamp" are not merely immature yarabagi but are a closely related creature. Smaller and more agile than their relatives, piribagi stalk their prey in packs through the foggy shores of their swampland territory. Equally adapt in the water as on land, piribagi have webbed feet allowing them to pursue their prey into the muddied waters. They are easily recognized by their disturbing vocalizations which resemble the laughter and cries of small children. Village adults, hearing these cries and believing them to be children lost in the fog, rush blindly into the swamps to search only to find themselves surrounded by a ravenous pack of piribagi. Like their yarabagi relatives, the piribagi terrors have inspired their own folklore and are considered to be the demonic spirits of children claimed by starvation of by the predation of the yarabagi. Believed to be doomed to wander the swamps and prey upon their own families, they are even more pitiful to the villagers than the yarabagi. Some mad priests even go so far as to venture out into the swamps to capture piribagi, and "return" them to their "family" (how the priests determine which family the creature belongs to is the subject of much theological debate among the elder priests). If a piribagi is domesticated in such a way young enough, it will bond closely with its adoptive family; this is seen as proof that it is indeed the spirit of their dead child and that the child has forgiven them. Such piribagi are considered complete members of the community. The death of such a piribagi is subject to an elaborate funeral celebration symbolizing that the child's spirit has finally been able to move on into the afterlife.

Wariyaba

Wariyabi "wolf worms" are sinister snake-like predators that slither through the swamp waters and forest underbrush in search of small prey. Compensating for poor eye sight, the wariyabi have excellent sense of smell and hearing by which to track their prey and avoid detection by larger predators. Their oily coats not only assist them in moving through their environment but also make it difficult for predators to grip them while their stringy, grey-green fur along their back also aids in camouflaging them amongst fur-plants. Although not adept in the water, their muscular tails assist them in swimming for brief periods where necessary or in propelling themselves into the air with a muscular spasm of their coiled body. Despite being solitary predators, wariyabi are not beyond coordinated attacks on larger prey. Wariyabi have not successfully been domesticated by villagers but they do not particularly avoid settlements either, prefering to hide and hunt in homes where possible. Villagers believe it bad fortune to let a wariyabi slip out of one's hands amd they are therefore reluctant to confront such creatures directly. It is believed that the wariyabi is a vengeful creature and will return to gnaw at the feet of those that wronged it when it is more accurate to say that it will gnaw on anything in front of it when it is angry or hungry, incidentally being quite often in its short life.

Wirishawa

The wirishawa "walking water" are considered to be malevolent water demons or water spirits depending upon who one asks. To be found in a variety of forms, all wirishawa share a gelatious core of dark-purple pulp from which fibrous tendrils extend throughout its body of water. The form of a wirishawa appears to be dictated by the extent to which the central mass has grown and the life it encounters; wirishawa are accomplished mimics and will parody life-forms from trees to animals to people after prolonged exposure to them. This appears to indicate some sort of supranatural intelligence inhabiting its body, but whether wirishawa can be said to be individual beings or a collective one is indeterminate. Indeed, wirishawa appear to bud off of one another or mere with one another without apparent reason, further mystifying observers. Whether more human-like forms indicate a greater degree of intelligence or simply an arbitrary form is also open to debate. 

Tendrils will periodically expose themselves from their watery body and when these tendrils encounter a new body of water anywhere from the size of a puddle to that of a river or lake, the wirishawa will ejaculate a portion of its internal mass. From this secondary mass a new wirishawa will emerge and as it grows it will possess more control over the surrounding water. It is this probably this invasive feature, the ability of the wirishawa to incorporate water into its body and use water as a body, that has peoples divided over its moral significance. Southern states in the river-lands consider wirishawa to be demons who have infested their water supplies and afflicted them with droughts and disease. By contrast, the nomadic tribes of the northern frost-wastes consider the wirishawa to be spirits of the seas who are simply tempermental and indifferent to the needs of men. Some go so far as to consider the wirishawa a judgement of the wirishabtu, the water god, upon the soft people of the south. Abusing water by funneling it into dams, irrigation, and bath-houses and polluting it with the waste of industry, the wirishawa have come to reclaim the water and return it to the sea, to the wirishabtu.

Disturbingly, there appears to be some merit to this belief as wirishawa of the south appear to migrate north and out to the sea, merging with its waters, draining the rivers and ponds of the south and pushing the southerners north into hostile territory. No one is sure where the wirishawa originated from but they appear to be returning to the sea. Some say this is to eventually convert the sea into a vast, worldly wirishawa (if such a terrifying act is even possible is uncertain). Others whisper that the sea is already such a being, that the wirishabtu is real, and that its gelatinous core covers the bottom of the sea. Perhaps this would explain rumors told from shipwrecked sailors who ventured too far north, of tendrils rising out of the water, of tendrils made of water itself, crashing down and sinking their vessel. Darker still are rumors of northern shamans who appear to be able to direct the current of the water itself, turning rivers into serpentine monsters and drowning men with surging waves. Whether this is true and how it is possible is the subject of much speculation, but it is believed that it is the rite of such shamans to ritually drown themselves in the body of a dormant wirishawa in the hope of receiving its powers. But is it the newly risen shaman who can control the waters, or is it the wirishawa and its wirishabtu who truly control the shaman?  

Wirishawinti

Wirishawinti is difficultly translated as "water walking man" in the same sense that one could say that a man is walking a dog. Such abominations are the product of wirishawa infestation in the southern river-lands. Contaminating water sources results in commonplace outbreaks of the supranatural plague but is most commonly found in isolated communities desperate for water to sustain themselves and ignorant of signs of infection until it is too late. Although capable of infesting plants and animals, the wirishawinti plague only inflicts its horrific transmutations upon people. Superstitious individuals will invoke the supranatural intent of demons or gods to explain such particularity, claiming the plague to be divine justice for the abusing of sacred waters for secular purposes such as bathing, plumbing and industry.

"Infection" is only possible if an individual ingests wirishawa-infested water, the the wirishawa taking root within them and spreading its tendrils through-out their body. Initial symptoms include the loss of hair, nails and teeth, the gradual loss of pigmentation in the skin to the point of transparency, and profuse sweating. Individuals will also become extremely attracted to water on an instinctual level, going so far as to apparently risk their lives with drowning. In reality however, the infected individual is beyond the threat of a drowning death thanks to the parasitic wirishawa within them and seeks out water to accelerate their mutation. Like the wirishawa within them, wirishawinti are capable of incorporating water mass within themselves and manipulating water around them; as more water is drawn into themselves, their flesh bloats and sags and their bones (if they can even be said to have any) bend at uncomfortable angles. As their flesh becomes transparent, the spots and vein-like tendrils of the wirishawa parasite within them become visible, often breaking their gelatinous skin to seek out new sources of liquid sustenance. Whether or not the original person can be truly exist over the course of this disturbing process is uncertain, but the fact that wirishawinti can be communicated with (albeit at a simplistic level) appears to indicate that some level of their cognition disturbingly remains intact. Far more disturbing is the fact that northern tribesmen willingly invoke such transformations amongst themselves in times of great conflict by ritually drowning themselves and are considered holy vessels of divine spirits of watery wrath by their communities.