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Eutopias and dystopias of science.

Most utopias are based upon one or more foundations, with education, law and religion being the most common, with of course interesting shifts in dominance over time. * Here, I look at another or, arguably, two others: science and technology.

Any serious scholar of science fiction will say that the attitude to science and technology in science fiction is ambivalent at best and always has been. The question in the broader utopian tradition has been less studied, but much of the scholarship has stressed the positive role of science and technology in utopianism. In Utopian Thought in the Western World (1979) the Manuels correctly identified a strong pro-science stream in early utopianism, and Nell Eurich in her Science in Utopia: A Mighty Design (1967) noted a positive scientific utopianism. In The Dreams of Reason: Science and Utopias (1961), Rene Dubos has done much the same, as has Howard P. Segal in Technological Utopianism in American Culture (1985). But Dubos recognizes that it is not that simple, and Segal also wrote Future Imperfect: The Mixed Blessings of Technology in America (1994). (1)

It is certainly the case that, beginning with Francis Bacon's New Atlantis (1627), many utopias have presented science and technology, properly used, as one of the major mechanisms for bringing about and sustaining the desired better society. But it is also the case that 'science and technology' needs to be unpacked because it covers many different ideas, and that the phrase 'properly used' is a particularly important qualifier.

To make my argument, I begin with Bacon simply because the New Atlantis dominates perceptions of science in utopian literature, and then move on to the quite practical utopias of the 17th century that are more about technology than science. I then briefly discuss the 18th-century debates over reason, which directly affect the presentation of science and technology. The 19th century is the high-point of the belief that science and technology can transform life for the better. While disillusionment grows during the last years of that century and continues throughout the 20th and the beginning of the 21st centuries, the belief in the possibility of science and technology producing eutopia never disappears. The disillusionment means that the belief in science and technology producing dystopia has become stronger.

Bacon and the New Atlantis

Most of New Atlantis is taken up with a description of the arrival of outsiders on a typical isolated island and the description of the key institution of the country, Solomon's House. (2) Solomon's House is a combination of a repository for samples of all the world's plants, minerals, machines, and more, as well as being a research centre in which constant observation and experimentation are carried out.

The relationship between Solomon's House and the society of Bensalem, the name of the island, is obscure. It is fairly clear that the average citizen does not know much, if anything, about Solomon's House. On the other hand, the scientists of Solomon's House are, if not the actual rulers, very much the power behind the throne. They rule by providing the people with abundance so no one is ever unhappy. Direct rule would be too much bother.

New Atlantis reflects the 17th-century combination of religion (particularly belief in the coming millennium) and science (particularly experimentation and classification). The separate revelation in New Atlantis might have been a Second Coming, but apparently it was not. It does, though, reveal the intimate connection between religion and science at the time. Neither Bacon nor the other scientists (as we would call them) of the time saw science and religion as separate. That Isaac Newton spent most of his life on Biblical exegesis was not unusual, just generally forgotten in our attempt to make all scientists from all time periods think alike.

In the 17th century science was in the process of being freed or differentiated from magic and religion. (3) At this time the split was only beginning and science, religion and magic were still very much part of each other, even in those writers we tend to think of as the scientists of the age.

Bacon believed that science (and the term must be used broadly) was an avenue to the understanding of God. This was the standard position of scientists at the time. Science and religion were part of the same activity. New Atlantis, seen in this light, makes sense. Bensalem is a Christian country, and the scientists who are its most honoured citizens are religious also.

Hartlib and His Circle

Bacon was not the only religious scientist to write a utopia. Another utopia of the time, Macaria (1641), was once thought to have been by Samuel Hartlib, but is now generally attributed to Gabriel Plattes, who was a member of the circle around Hartlib and best known as a writer on agriculture. (4)

According to Charles Webster's exhaustive study of the Hartlib circle, Hartlib and his followers are representative of a significant element of mid-17th century Puritan thought which combined millennial expectations and a belief in the revival of learning. Hartlib and his followers saw the production and distribution of knowledge as tools for improving the lives of the people, a sign of the coming of the millennium (based on Daniel 12:4), and a means of achieving the social conditions expected as a result of the Second Coming. (5) Thus, millenarianism was part of the background to both advances in learning--including science and technology--and the belief in the desirability and possibility of significant social change.

Millennial expectations pervaded the thought of the time. The Hartlib circle drew some of its inspiration from Johann Valentin Andreae, author of the famous utopia Reipublicae Christianopolis Descriptio (1619, known as Christianopolis) and other works, some of which were translated by John Hall at Hartlib's request.

Amore direct influence was Comenius (Jan Amos Komensky), whose presentation of a possible pansophia, the integration of all knowledge, inspired the Hartlib circle in its hope to bring together all knowledge into one coherent system that could be readily communicated. In England Comenius was closely associated with Hartlib.

The Hartlib circle saw the need for practical proposals for realizing their ideas. The proposals ranged from a colony in the Baltic or the New World, to be called Antilia, after a scheme of Andreae's, to various proposals for employing the poor. They included a plan to establish a universal college and the utopia Macaria, which is a brief pamphlet that only suggests a few reforms.

The most recent (and best) analysis of Macaria, by J. C. Davis, argues that the economic utopia (full employment) was central to the unification of all knowledge and practice that Plattes envisions. Utopianism was at the centre of the Hartlib circle's thought even though only one utopia was produced. (6)

Macaria reflects a twofold concern--with the imminence of the millennium and the advancement of learning. While religion appears to be brushed aside with statements that could have been written by a non-religious rationalist, the language should not be allowed to disguise the fact that religious belief and practice are central to the whole social and intellectual system of the society. Religion was as central to the science and technology of the Hartlib circle as it was to Bacon. (7)

Swift and Reason

As noted above, science emerged as a distinct way of thought in the 17th century as it separated from magic and religion. Alchemy is a perfect example of the mid-ground in that it combined experiment and incantation. As the incantations were dropped, something like modern, experimental science slowly developed. It is generally recognized, for example by Dubos, that a major stimulus to this separation was the growth of reason as a way of viewing the world. But even as reason came to dominate, it was questioned, and in the 18th century the debates over reason are an early example of the ambivalence toward science and technology that I am arguing for here. Jonathan Swift was a major figure in these debates.

Although there is considerable disagreement among critics, one point that Swift may have been making in Gulliver's Travels (1726) is that a wholly rational being cannot be human. The Houyhnhnms are rational by nature. Their language has no word for lying or falsehood. The closest the Houyhnhnms can come to lying is to speak of someone as having 'said the thing which was not'. Swift repeatedly points out the ways in which rationality eliminates unnecessary words for the Houyhnhnms. (8)

Swift stresses the bestiality of the Yahoos (humans) and the humaneness of the Houyhnhnms, and such a picture reinforces the notion that a purely rational creature cannot be human. Some utopians have in fact argued for purely rational human beings (9) and, reflecting this, many anti-utopians have castigated the entire utopian enterprise as trying to dehumanize all humankind precisely because the anti-utopians contend that utopians propose a purely rational life. (10)

The Yahoos are human; the Houyhnhnms are horses. Certain human characteristics may be held in the gross form of the Yahoos (who come straight from mediaeval tales of the wild man (11)) but to be totally rational would be inhuman.

Some of the radical thinkers of the second half of the 18th century, and particularly those of its last decade, continued and developed the emphasis on reason. In particular, William Godwin and those he influenced took reason to new places.

Godwin's Enquiry Concerning Political Justice (1793) has sometimes been called a utopia; it can best be seen as influencing the utopianism of the end of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th centuries. The book rose out of the events of the French Revolution and was a response to Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790) by Edmund Burke. Even though Godwin's book followed Thomas Paine's Rights of Man (1791-1792), and Godwin's future wife Mary Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Men (1790) and A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792), as responses to Burke, and was much longer and much more expensive than theirs, it was an immediate success. (12)

The utopians of the period, even those who took radical positions, were generally more conservative than Godwin. There were two utopias in the last half of the century that reflected a similar attitude to reason. While one was written before Godwin's Enquiry, the other may have been directly influenced by it. Various Prospects (1761) by Robert Wallace and The Commonwealth of Reason (1795) by William Hodgson present societies that are rational without being anarchistic. (13)

Although Wallace argued in Various Prospects that his proposed eutopia was impossible, he listed eighteen points as to what would comprise his rational government. These eighteen points cover subjects like governance and arrangements for the labour force through to rules regarding dress, but they are all regulated by the principle that all members of the society should contribute to the success of the society as a whole. Wallace proposed a society in which all its members would be able to enjoy life as they chose by all working a limited number of hours per day. For Wallace these few, simple rules were what reason dictated.

The most detailed of the utopias of reason, the aptly titled The Commonwealth of Reason, had many more rules. Hodgson was in prison for treason at the time The Commonwealth of Reason was published, a political radical involved with others who supported the French Revolution. The charge of treason was based on a toast he proposed to 'The French Republic' and on a derogatory remark he made about the king. After his release from prison, he returned to his earlier profession as a scientist and added to it work in literature and French grammar.

Hodgson drew his ideas primarily from the French philosophes and the radical circles in England of the last quarter of the century. And while he did not simply copy the ideas of others, and apparently was not involved with the most extreme groups, his utopia reflected the tendency toward radical democracy that was the mainstay of most of the English supporters of the French Revolution. Part of his utopia was called 'Declaration of Rights' after the French model.

Hodgson and the other votaries of reason dominated the utopianism of the last part of the century, but they were not the only voices heard. Attacks on reason were common, one being written by one of the most important writers of the time, Oliver Goldsmith.

Ashort attack on people who thought that reason would solve all human problems is Goldsmith's tale known as 'Asem' (1759). In this tale, originally published as 'The Proceedings of Providence Vindicated. An Eastern Tale', Goldsmith described a 'rational' people 'absolutely without vice'. Such rationality produced a society with no art and even without social intercourse. (14) Asem, who had been revolted by the human race and its irrationality and vice, found that pure reason eliminated not only vice but all virtue as well. Like Swift a few years earlier, Goldsmith found that pure reason could only be inhuman.

The 19th Century

The 19th century was the high-point of the positive depiction of science and technology in utopian literature. One mid-19th century utopian of technology was John Adolphus Etzler, who wrote a number of works that followed up on the title of his earliest work, The Paradise within Reach of All Men, without Labour, by Powers of Nature and Machinery (1833). (15)

Two novels see one particular technology as bringing about eutopia: the railroad. The first, William Gilpin's The Cosmopolitan Railway (1890) is the more grandiose in that the project's given purpose '... is to bind the nations of the earth together as peaceful members of one family ...' He proposes building a railroad circling the world. It would cross the Pacific at the Bering Strait (there is a proposal for a tunnel there being planned today). Quite how the Atlantic would be crossed is less clear to me. (16)

Gilpin, who was the territorial governor of Colorado, believed that an 'increase of knowledge in the industrial arts means a corresponding advance in morals and manners'. Therefore, he says, 'The inventor of the locomotive has been infinitely more service to the world than the mediaeval saints ... and the telegraph, the telephone, and the electric light ... are nobler and more enduring trophies of national greatness than all the military conquests ...' (17) The other novel, published fourteen years later, Olin J. Ross's The Sky Blue; A Tale of the Iron Horse and of the Coming Civilization (1904), repeats Gilpin's basic theme of creating a great new world civilization by building railroads. (18)

While support for technological solutions to social problems dominated the century, even in the 19th century there were doubters. For example, The Age of Science; A Newspaper of the Twentieth Century (1877) by Frances Power Cobbe is a dystopia of science gone too far. Medicine is particularly powerful, and Parliament is composed entirely of medical people who act in their own interest. People are executed for such heresies against science as homeopathy, religion and not getting vaccinated. And 'The Passing of Niagara' (1897) by Rebecca Harding Davis is a satire on the technological utopia. The United States becomes entirely practical, focused on making money and producing consumption goods. Niagara Falls is eliminated; the tides fenced off to produce electricity; the churches all taken over and turned into commercial colleges; veterans' benefits are abolished, libraries and art galleries sold, and horses, dogs, birds, trees and flowers eliminated; while food is made into pills. It is so unsatisfying that everyone leaves the country. (19)

Health has been a recurrent theme in utopias. Miriam Eliav-Feldon's Realistic Utopias (1982) notes a concern with health in both the British and continental utopias in the period from 1516 to 1630, and Rebecca Totaro has recently argued that at least some 16th-century utopias were specifically concerned with responses to the plague. But it was in the 19th century, perhaps in response to the health problems produced by industrialization and the growth of cities, that health became a central focus. While there are many such utopias, the best example is Hygeia: A City of Health (1876), by Benjamin Ward Richardson. In this address to the Health Department of the Social Science Congress he describes the healthy city of the future. Changes include pollution controls on fires, roof gardens, the elimination of carpets, the state supervision of public laundries, public street-cleaning, publicly supervised slaughterhouses, burial without embalming or casket, the location of factories outside towns, and underground railroads and sewage. People are expected to take regular exercise and neither smoke nor drink alcohol. Given how many of his reforms have actually been adopted, it might strike us as odd to see them in a mid-19th century eutopia. But it might also be worth reflecting on how many of his proposed reforms have not been adopted even though they would be conducive to better health. (20)

Eugenics was a concern of utopias well before the term was coined by Francis Galton. As far back as Tommaso Campanella's La Citta del Sole (The City of the Sun) (1611), eugenics was seen as a central means of achieving and maintaining a eutopia, although it is worth noting that the English translation that was the standard for years censored all the eugenic material as too sexually explicit. Galton wrote two eugenic eutopias himself, and the topic recurs constantly in the eutopias of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. (21)

Eugenics appeared to many authors a means of solving many social ills. Most authors saw both positive eugenics, or encouraging the best to produce more children with each other, and negative eugenics, or discouraging or even prohibiting the worst from having children, as desirable. But as Wells, for example, quickly realized, the key was the definition of best and worst. (22) Given the attitudes of the time, it is hardly surprising that the definitions tended to reinforce racial and ethnic stereotypes. But even when such stereotypes were avoided, there remained the question of which characteristics to breed for and which to breed out. The eutopias and dystopias of the time tend to follow the pattern of Wells: initial enthusiasm followed by doubts and then avoidance of the question. But even after the misuse of genetics in World War II, some eugenic eutopias are still being written, and the issue of genetic manipulation, a refinement of eugenics, is a hot topic in science fiction today, usually warning against its misuse.

Works from the period around the turn of the 20th century, a period in which many utopias were published, illustrates attitudes very effectively.

Some utopias from this period see the human race as greatly advanced (much more intelligent and refined), usually through the use of science. This is sometimes achieved through evolution and sometimes through the mechanical improvement of the brain, as in 2010 (1914) by Frederic Carrell. (23) E. M. Forster, in his famous 'The Machine Stops' (1909), shows the dangers of becoming too dependent on science. Forster's story is a dystopia of science in which an entire civilization dies because it loses its originality, having become totally dependent on technology, even forgetting how to repair machines. (24)

One of the oddities of the 19th-century utopias was Edward Bulwer-Lytton's The Coming Race (1871) in which each person had a power, called 'vril', which could be used to instantly annihilate another person. I am reminded of Thomas Hobbes' state of nature, or MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction) in the period of the Cold War, which was intended to ensure peace. Adelightful sidelight on this is that you can go to the store today and purchase the energy food Bovril, named after the 'vril' of The Coming Race. (25)

The writers of utopias showed a growing ambivalence about science. This ambivalence is perhaps most clear in the work of H. G. Wells, who is often thought of as an unreasoning proponent of scientific advance. In his writings, in most cases problems stem from a fear that science will be misused. Science, it seems, is neutral, or at least close to it, but people are weak, vain, greedy, power hungry and sometimes just simply evil, and if such people control science we will all be in trouble, as we in fact are. If, on the other hand, decent, upstanding types are found who can use science for the good of humanity, rather than themselves, we can still be saved. Wells worried about this problem for most of his life.

Wells is particularly interesting in this context because, although he is thought of as one of the founding fathers of science fiction, his science fiction was in fact little concerned with either science or technology. Think of The Time Machine (1895), where the machine is merely a means to an end in a story primarily about social evolution. Again, in The First Men in the Moon (1901), the flight to the moon is the means to the end of a story primarily about the misuse of intelligence and a satire on the capitalist mentality. The Invisible Man (1897) and The Island of Doctor Moreau (1896) are both primarily about the misuse of science. His eutopias and dystopias such as The Sleeper Wakes (1899), A Modern Utopia (1905), Men Like Gods (1923), and The Shape of Things to Come: The Ultimate Revolution (1933) actually contain little about science and technology. They are primarily background to plots concerned with other issues. The World Set Free (1914) is one Wells eutopia that is clearly different in that the eutopia that is ultimately achieved is based on abundant and cheap energy, a eutopia still being put forward today. Wells' non-fiction follows much the same pattern and ends with A Mind at the End of Its Tether (1945), which was inspired by the atomic bomb.

Of the founding fathers of science fiction it is Jules Verne, not Wells, who comes closer to the popular image of science fiction writer. But we should also remember the founding mother of science fiction, Mary Godwin Shelley, and her Frankenstein (1818), the classic tale of the misuse of science.

From time to time, a scientific or technological panacea emerges, and one is reminded of the alchemists' search for the elixir of life. In the late 19th century that panacea was electricity, which was thought to revitalize both the social and the physical body. In the middle of the 20th century the panacea was atomic energy, with the atom heating homes and powering cars and airplanes, as well as fuelling an economy of cheap power. (26) The holy grail of fusion power suggests that this panacea has not entirely disappeared.

The 20th Century

The peak of positive representations of science and technology in science fiction can be found in the early pulps from the 1920s through to the 1950s. In these magazines, whose target audience was teenage boys, many of the stories turned on some gadget or advance in science. But even in these pulps there was often a concern about the misuse of the gadget or advance, and quite a few were just as concerned with human relationships as they were with science and technology.

Much work has been done recently recovering the women writers hidden behind the initials, gender-neutral names and pseudonyms used in the pulps, arguing that they had different concerns from male writers. Unfortunately, except for the best known names like Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Robert A. Heinlein and a few others, the male pulp writers have not been much studied. But even among the best known writers, only Clarke was concerned primarily with technology. Asimov may be best known for his robots, but even these stories generally turn on some challenge to the limits built into the robots, a challenge that endangers human life if not answered.

But much 20th-century dystopianism is explicitly anti-science, beginning with one of the classic dystopias, We (1924) by Yevgeny Zamyatin, in which the desire to organize a world with mathematical precision produces a dystopia in which the efficiency expert Frederick Winslow Taylor is a hero and old railroad timetables are great literature. But it is Aldous Huxley's Brave New World (1932) and Brave New World Revisited (1957) which speak most forcefully on the issue. Eugenics, through controlled breeding in hatcheries, the misuse of drugs and the radical skewing of psychoanalysis, all used for controlling the population, show us just how important the phrase 'properly used' is with regard to science and technology. In Brave New World, science is not properly used, but Huxley returns to the issue and shows in Island (1962) how science 'properly used' can be part of a eutopia. Since these classics, there have been hundreds of stories and novels depicting the misuse of science, so many that it is clear that the position of science and scientists was one of the fundamental conflicts of the 20th century. (27)

Nuclear power may be the best example of this. As noted earlier, atomic energy was seen, as less directly it still is by some, as the solution to the world's power needs. The use of nuclear energy to kill did not eliminate the eutopian projections. But the growing recognition of how difficult it is to tame this particular genie, and of the damage it could do even accidentally, led to a continuing conflict over its use.

In the 20th century the distinction between hard, or high-tech, and soft, or low-tech or alternative, technologies is important. A slogan that would suit many of the low-tech utopias can be found in Aldous Huxley's Island: 'Electricity minus heavy industry plus birth control equals democracy and plenty. Electricity plus heavy industry minus birth control equals misery, totalitarianism and war'. (28) Most of the low-tech societies are very similar. Politically, they are decentralized, participatory democracies or operate on consensus. Economically, they are socialist and hold all productive property collectively. Socially, they are communal, though with room for eccentrics and a wide range of individual freedoms. Perhaps a better way of putting this point is to say that socially they are feminist or co-operative and nurturing rather than masculinist or competitive, hierarchical and authoritarian.

Technically they rely on what we now call 'appropriate' technologies, which are technologies that are non-polluting, are more likely to be based on biology than physics, and do not normally require substantial capital investment. As a result of this last characteristic, they are technologies that can be built and operated by local communities or even individuals, thus reinforcing or helping to create the decentralized political system. The best known are power sources with solar, wind or water-based systems. Methane systems are also popular. The Whole Earth Catalog (1968-81, with a final volume in 1994) was the low-tech Bible. (29)

One of the oddities of the 20th-century technological utopias is what I once called 'technological agrarianism', or societies that use sophisticated technology to maintain an agrarian way of life. (30) Sometimes the technology is so hidden as to make no sense. One example is contained in a short story in which, at first, the society appears purely agricultural, with the exception of blimps for longdistance travel. Then one discovers that there is a computer in each cottage. This society appears to be composed of fairly isolated extended families (in the 1960s sense). But where did that computer come from? Where is the technology that produced it? Computers simply do not get built by craftspeople. (31) A similar work does somewhat better by having a community computer and a vague notion of a technology to back it up. (32)

In most such works the people have decided that they cannot do without some specific thing, and the technology (again likely to be biologically based) is developed to sustain it. Usually such technologies are decentralized and under local control. The manufacture of components is also done in the least polluting and least capital-intensive manner possible. When substantial capital investment is required, it is community capital, not individual capital. This phenomenon reflects the ambivalence to technology and, since most of these cases are American, the recurring American belief that the best life is a simple life in contact with nature. This belief is so rarely put into practice that it is perhaps best thought of as one of the fundamental American myths.


I have wondered if perhaps contemporary writers think that antiscience may make a better story than successful science. Arthur C. Clarke once wrote, 'Marlan was bored, with the ultimate boredom that only utopia can supply'. (33) And Thomas M. Disch wrote, 'Paradise has a considerable flaw, however, from the narrative point of view. It is anti-dramatic. Perfection doesn't make a good yarn ...' (34) While these are general comments about why these writers write dystopias rather than eutopias, the attitude could have the effect of there being more ambivalence than there would otherwise be.

Still, I think that the reality is both more complicated and more important. The ambivalence rests on the words 'properly used' and what those words mean in different periods. On the whole, although the details vary, the words mean for human betterment, but the problem shifts quickly to 'Who do you trust to use science this way?' The rich: hardly. Political leaders: of course not. Scientists: there is the problem. From Dr Faustus, Dr Frankenstein and Dr Moreau on, literature is full of scientists who cannot be trusted to use their knowledge for human betterment rather than their own obsession or personal power. Literature is also full of scientists of the other kind, however--those who could be trusted--but as the remarks made by Clarke and Disch suggest, they are less memorable.

* 'Utopia' and 'Eutopia' are related but different concepts used in this article. For the distinction between the two, see the Introduction.

(1.) F. E. and F. P. Manuel, Utopian Thought in the Western World, Cambridge Mass., Harvard University Press, 1979; N. Eurich, Science in Utopia: A Mighty Design, Cambridge Mass., Harvard University Press, 1967; R. Dubos, The Dreams of Reason: Science and Utopias, New York, Columbia University Press, 1961; H. Segal, Technological Utopianism in American Culture, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1985; H. Segal, Future Imperfect: The Mixed Blessings of Technology in America, Amherst, Mass., University of Massachusetts Press, 1994.

(2.) F. Bacon, New Atlantis, a Work Unfinished, reprinted in Francis Bacon: The Major Works, ed. B. Vickers, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2002, pp. 457-89. The original text has Salomon's House, but 'Solomon's' is now universally used.

(3.) See K. Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic: Studies in Popular Beliefs in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-century England, London, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1971; see also H. Baker, 'The Idea of Progress', in The Wars of Truth: Studies in the Decay of Christian Humanism in the Earlier 17th Century, London, Staples Press, 1952, pp. 78-89.

(4.) G. Plattes, A Description of the Famous Kingdom of Macaria, reprinted in C. Webster, Utopian Planning and the Puritan Revolution: Gabriel Plattes, Samuel Hartlib and 'Macaria', Oxford, Wellcome Unit for the History of Medicine, 1979, pp. 65-73. See C. Webster, 'The Authorship and Significance of Macaria', Past and Present, no. 56, 1972, pp. 34-48.

(5.) See C. Webster, The Great Instauration: Science, Medicine and Reform 1626-1660, London, Duckworth, 1975, p. 1.

(6.) J. Davis, Utopia and the Ideal Society: A Study of English Utopian Writing 1516-1700, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1981.

(7.) Webster, The Great Instauration, p. xv.

(8.) J. Swift, Gulliver's Travels, ed. A. Rivero, New York, Norton, 2002, pp. 202-3.

(9.) For example, see the three utopias by John Macmillan Brown: Riallaro; The Archipelago of Exiles, New York, G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1901; Limanora; The Island of Progress, London, Putnam's, 1903; and 'Beyond', Ms John Macmillan Brown Papers 118 B2, John Macmillan Brown Library, University of Canterbury, New Zealand.

(10.) See, for example, R. Dahrendorf, 'Out of Utopia: Toward a Reorientation of Sociological Analysis', American Journal of Sociology, no. 64, 1958, pp. 115-27; and K. Popper, 'Utopia and Violence', Hibbert Journal, no. 46, 1948, pp. 109-16. For criticisms of this position, see the following articles by B. Goodwin: 'The "Authoritarian" Nature of Utopia', Radical Philosophy, no. 32, 1982, pp. 23-27; 'Utopia Defended Against the Liberals', Political Studies, vol. 28, no. 3, 1980, pp. 384-400; and 'Utopie und Rationalitat', in Verfassungen, Gerechtigkeit und Utopien, K-P. Markl (ed.), Opladen, Westdeutscher Verlag, 1985, pp. 254-78.

(11.) On the wild man, see R. Bernheimer, Wild Men in the Middle Ages: A Study in Art, Sentiment, and Demonology, Cambridge Mass., Harvard University Press, 1952.

(12.) W. Godwin, Enquiry Concerning Political Justice and its Influence on Modern Morals and Happiness, ed. I. Kramnick, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1976.

(13.) R. Wallace, Various Prospects of Mankind, Nature, and Providence, London, A. Millar, 1761; W. Hodgson, The Commonwealth of Reason, London, Printed for the Author, 1795.

(14.) O. Goldsmith, Asem, The Man-hater: An Eastern Tale, London, Griffith & Farran, 1877, p. 7.

(15.) See G. Claeys, 'Ecology and Technology in Early Nineteenth-Century American Utopianism: A Note on John Adolphus Etzler', Science and Society, vol. 50, no. 2, 1986, pp. 219-25; G. Claeys, 'John Adolphus Etzler, Technological Utopianism, and British Socialism: the Tropical Emigration Society's Venezuelan Mission and its Social Context, 1833-1848', English Historical Review, no. 101, 1986, pp. 351-75.

(16.) W. Gilpin, The Cosmopolitan Railway. Compacting and Fusing Together All the World's Continents, San Francisco, The History Company, 1890, p. 292.

(17.) Gilpin, The Cosmopolitan Railway, p. 290.

(18.) O. Ross, The Sky Blue: A Tale of the Iron Horse and of the Coming of Civilization, Columbus, published by the author, 1904.

(19.) F. Cobbe, The Age of Science: A Newspaper of the Twentieth Century, London, Ward, Lock and Tyler, 1877; R. Davis, 'The Passing of Niagara', The Independent, 25 November 1897, pp. 3-4.

(20.) M. Eliav-Feldon, Realistic Utopias: The Ideal Imaginary Societies of the Renaissance, 1516-1630, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1982; R. Totaro, Suffering in Paradise: The Bubonic Plague in English Literature from More to Milton, Pittsburgh, Duquesne University Press, 2005; B. Richardson, Hygeia: A City of Health, London, Macmillan and Co., 1876.

(21.) F. Galton, 'The Donoghues of Dunno Weir' (1901?), ed. L. Sargent, Utopian Studies, vol. 12, no. 2, 2001, pp. 210-33; F. Galton, 'Kantsaywhere' (1911?), ed. L. Sargent, Utopian Studies, vol. 12, no. 2, 2001, pp. 191-209.

(22.) See J. Partington, 'H. G. Wells's Eugenic Thinking of the 1930s and 1940s', Utopian Studies, vol. 14, no. 1, 2003, pp. 74-81.

(23.) F. Carrel, 2010, London, T. Werner Laurie, 1914.

(24.) E. Forster, 'The Machine Stops', in The Eternal Moment and Other Stories, London, Sedgwick & Jackson, 1928, pp. 1-61.

(25.) E. Bulwer-Lytton, The Coming Race, London, George Routledge and Sons, 1874.

(26.) See R. Langer, 'Fast New World', Collier's, no. 106, 1940, pp. 18-19, 54-55; R. Langer, 'The Miracle of U-235', Popular Mechanics, vol. 75, no. 1, 1941, pp. 1-5, 149-50.

(27.) E. Zamyatin, We, trans. Clarence Brown, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1993; A. Huxley, Brave New World, London, Chatto & Windus, 1932; A. Huxley, Brave New World Revisited, New York, Harper, 1958; A. Huxley, Island, New York, Harper & Row, 1962.

(28.) Huxley, Island, p. 167.

(29.) The Whole Earth Catalogs were accompanied by CoEvolution Quarterly (1974-81), which was continued by The Whole Earth Review until 1996, when it became Whole Earth through to 2003.

(30.) L. Sargent, 'A New Anarchism: Social and Political Ideas in Some Recent Feminist Eutopias', in. M. Barr and N. Smith (eds), Women and Utopia: Critical Interpretations, Lanham, University Press of America, 1983, pp. 3-33.

(31.) See P. Novitski, 'Nuclear Fission', in T. Carr (ed.), Universe Nine, Garden City, Doubleday, 1979, pp. 43-66.

(32.) See B. Garskof, The Canbe Collective Builds a Be-Hive, New Haven, Dandelion Press, 1977.

(33.) A. Clarke, 'The Awakening', in Prelude to Mars, New York, Harcourt, Brace & Jovanovich, 1965, p. 264.

(34.) T. Disch, 'White Fang Goes Dingo', in White Fang Goes Dingo and Other Funny S. F. Stories, London, Arrow Books, 1971, p. 160.
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Title Annotation:Part VI: Bibliographical Essay
Author:Tower Sargent, Lyman
Publication:Arena Journal
Article Type:Essay
Geographic Code:4EUUK
Date:Sep 22, 2005
Previous Article:Framing catastrophe: the problem of ending in dystopian fiction.

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