Utopia in a Dystopian World
Imagine for a moment the perfect world. What does it look like? Smell like? Feel like? Who can you see? I could describe my perfect world for you, but then it would not be yours. There is no “one size fits all” of perfection, but there might be a plurality of perfection where individual and community difference is expressed as a utopia of difference. This blog is an invitation to imagine together what could be beyond the government’s current call for the further standardisation of compulsory schooling through thinking with utopian and dystopian constructs.
The 2024 Auckland Writers Festival had a session called Grave New World: Writing Dystopia Today, with the abstract proclaiming:
With wars raging, censorship on the rise and all manner of accepted human rights under threat both close to home and across the globe, how do fiction writers approach the dystopian genre when the line between fictional dystopias and reality seems increasingly blurred? (Auckland Writers Festival, 2024, p. 66)
When the session started, the panel chair asked who was there for the dystopia, and most of the room raised their hands. Then he asked who was there for utopia. In a room of several hundred people, I was one of about three people who raised their hands, and none of us raised them very high. There is a shared understanding in writing circles that anything proclaimed as utopia is usually a thinly veiled terrible dystopian reality of mind control practices and subjugation of the populous through nefarious means.
Understanding utopia
The movie Serenity (Wheldon, 2005) explores the possible horror of utopia through the story of a planet, Miranda, that has been terraformed and then populated, sold as a utopia for human civilisation. What the migrants to Miranda don’t know is that the architects of this utopia have deployed a drug into the air processors designed to pacify the population. The drug, G-23 Paxilon Hydrochlorate (Pax for short), has terrible consequences, pacifying 90% of the population so completely that they stop living. The movie shows a world with preserved bodies slumped where they simply stopped breathing. The drug’s effect on the remaining 10% of the population is the opposite of what was intended, turning them into Reavers, hyper-aggressive murdering nightmares. I will spare you the gory details of what happens to Reavers and their prey but suffice it to say that, like any drug, this is not a ‘one size fits all’ solution to a utopic world.
Despite the portrayal of dystopian utopias in movies such as Serenity (Wheldon, 2005) and classic fiction such as Huxley’s (1958) Brave New World, I still have a belief in the possibility of utopia, but perhaps conceived on a different idea of what utopia might be. The Auckland Writers Festival provides an excellent example of this possible utopia, a utopia of difference.
Exploring utopia at the Auckland Writers Festival
The festival caters to the spectrum of genres from speculative through romance fiction to autobiographical and scientific non-fiction. In addition to the wide range of genre offerings where genre geeks can commune, the festival facilitates discussions across genres such as the ‘Romantasy’ session – a combination of fantasy and romance currently gaining in popularity.
The location of the festival adds to the utopic vision of living across difference. There are large presentation spaces where conversation is encouraged, small out-of-the-way corners to read, meeting spaces – both indoors and out where there is a shared understanding that sitting and watching the world go by is an invitation to conversation while sitting with one’s head in a book is a sign you are happy in the company of the characters for now. There are session times, but participants can pick and choose if and when they go, structuring their day to meet their needs. I unexpectedly found myself at some sessions, guided by friends or conversations with strangers who pointed me in a direction I would not usually have gone.
At the festival, there are volunteers, event staff, techies, participants, and the talent. However, there is no obvious or enacted hierarchy to the people present. Sure, some people took the lead in particular situations, and I don’t doubt the organisational dance that would have been going on behind the scenes, but what I experienced as a participant was wholly welcoming and invitational. At one stage, I found myself sitting beside Roger Hall. Yes, the Sir Roger Hall, famous New Zealand playwright. I didn’t know his face (it was my friend who recognised him), but I certainly knew his name. I apologized for not knowing his face, and he responded, “It’s okay; I hardly recognize my face anymore, either”. This led to a genuine and memorable conversation about writing, his latest play, and being a teacher. As fun as being casually close to famous is, I also had just as genuine and memorable conversations with ‘nobodies’ – in fact, I suggested to one conversation partner that there ought to be a panel of ‘nobodies’, exceptional writers who had never been published – of which there are many.
Equity and inclusion of different voices
The inclusion of traditionally marginalised voices is an important part of the festival. Māori and Pacific presentations, which were at times uncomfortable in their raw cries of frustration for what their people have experienced and continue to experience at the hands of ongoing colonisation practices and the effects of climate change. The call to “listen” was loud. Listening sparked new and different conversations across the participants of the festival.
Aspects of equity are addressed by the festival through programme diversity and sponsored tickets. However, organisers hold in tension the need for corporate sponsorship and ticket sales with accessibility and the inclusion of as many people as possible. There are many free sessions available, but I was aware of the privilege that my financial stability bought me to attend paid sessions, not to mention have transport to the festival each day, and money for kai. In my utopia of difference, issues of equity would be further addressed.
The festival appears to focus on our shared but diverse experience of being human. Providing an experimental space to demonstrate that in diversity, there is a way for all people to flourish. I don’t have to enjoy reading historical fiction to know that it is important to someone else. I can acknowledge and support their excitement for historical fiction whilst I am immersed in speculative fiction. Both of these things can co-exist and may find common ground on occasion. I also understand that a Writers Festival is not the festival for everyone, there needs to be a diverse range of festivals provided.
The connections to education in this festival example are numerous, a Captain Obvious explanation is not required. I offer instead an invitation to consider education today that currently feels like a thinly veiled dystopic utopian offering. Standardisation – the Pax of compulsory schooling – is sold as the road to utopia, which is designed to result in the pacification of the populace and will likely produce a type of educational “Reaver”. What if, instead of a standardised or homogenised dystopic utopia we enacted a utopia of difference? What might that look like? How might that work? If you are struggling to imagine it, there are a number of writers in Aotearoa, New Zealand, who might help you to prime your imagination for the possible. Tīhema Baker’s novel Turncoat, Patricia Grace’s new collection of short stories Bird Child and Other Stories, and Emma Hislop’s collection of short stories Ruin. These stories will not be an obvious framework for a utopia of difference, but they are an invitation to think outside of your usual paradigm.
In our difference, might we find utopia?
Reference List
Auckland Writers Festival. (2024). Grave new world: Writing dystopia today. Open a World of Wonder, Auckland.
Baker, T. (2023). Turncoat. Lawrence & Gibson Publishing Collective.
Grace, P. (2024). Bird child and other stories. Penguin.
Hislop, E. (2023). Ruin. Te Herenga Waka University Press.
Huxley, A. (1958). Brave new world. Penguin.
Wheldon, J. (2005). Serenity B. Mendel; Universal Pictures.
Philippa Isom P.Isom@massey.ac.nz
Philippa is a lecturer at Te Kunenga ki Pūrehuroa – Massey University. Her work focuses on preparing teachers to navigate their way to Aotearoa, inclusive education, and interrogating the taken-for-granted norms of educational practices. Philippa’s research interests are in the Philosophy of Education and exploration through short story writing.