R.U.R.

Perhaps like many young people, I was first exposed to Karel Čapek through an episode of Futurama. In the Futurama episode inspired by R.U.R. the robots are not synthetic humans manufactured in a factory, but the episode embedded the name Čapek into my mind. Finally, several years later, and on a whim, I read the short play which introduced the word robot to science fiction. The story seems to borrow elements from Island of Dr. Moreau (island setting where questionable experiments are conducted by a dangerous scientist) to offer a warning of the dangers of progress, industrialization, and exploitation. Written in 1920, the recent memory of World War I and the Russian Revolution surely influenced this, as the belief in boundless progress and further technological advances led to horrific wars, social unrest, and loss of life. 

Intriguingly, a Soviet film adaptation of Čapek's play exists, which presumably highlights the theme of alienation and exploitation of the proletariat. Helena's husband, Domin, does seem to have genuinely good intentions through the use of robots to alleviate the labor burdens on the working-class, but R.U.R., like the bourgeoisie, had also planned to turn robots against each other through the creation of "national robots." Thus, the manufacturer of robots was plotting to exploit the labor of beings and, through the exploitation of race and nationality, turn them against each other to prevent rebellion. By the end of the play, the robot revolution is at the doors of the R.U.R. factory, and the extinction of humanity is all but ensured. Yet, in the epilogue, despite never learning the formula to manufacture additional robots, two robots have managed to develop emotion, particularly love. Thus, in spite of humanity's misguided belief in progress and elimination of the need for humans' labor, there is a glimmer of hope among the robots for life to continue (Adam and Eve, or Helena and Primus).

Of course, R.U.R. is not quite great writing. It's interesting as a testament of its era of science fiction. It possesses an assured position in the annals of science fiction for the word robot. But subsequent writers have done a much better job with the themes of robot revolt or human-like sentient synthetic beings. Philip K. Dick, for example, did a better job at it. One cannot forget the plethora of science fiction films and TV that became hits in recent memory, either. Still, one owes a great debt to Karel Čapek for his use of the idea and the term robot, a great gift to the world of science fiction. 

The Masses Are Asses

Pedro Pietri's The Masses Are Asses is both disturbing and hilarious. A couple living in a slum building (ex-hallway toilet) in the South Bronx are pretending to be on vacation in Europe, dining at a fine restaurant (La Plume de Ma Tante). During the short play, the man and woman argue, emulate the rich and poor (including speech patterns, slang, vacuous conservation, and ersatz ostentatious display of wealth), and do nothing as a series of crimes and a fire seemingly threatens to engulf their building. It's somewhat difficult to truly describe this bizarre play and its bitter satire, but it certainly does suggest that the masses are indeed asses. The main couple, whose voices are described as being the same as the various residents, criminals, and delinquents in the building, suggests that the main characters are part of an entire problematic worldview of the lumpenproletariat. 

Not only are they pretending to be rich, but there is a breakdown of social solidarity as they do nothing to assist victims of violent robberies, rape, and disasters. They have internalized the dominant ideology's view of the urban underclass that there is really no escape from the South Bronx. Perhaps Pietri wrote this as a response to the failure of the militancy of the Young Lords, Black Panthers, and other revolutionary groups to enact change. Of course, the cultural conservatism and consumerism of the 1980s, with the urban poor embracing much of neoliberalization openly or indirectly, perhaps also explains why Pietri's play suggests such a rather low opinion of the masses, both rich and poor. The righteous anger of Puerto Rican Obituary remains palpable in this play, but it's subtle and hidden beneath a rather dismal view of the masses, or mass. Cynicism appears to have infiltrated Pietri's work by the 1980s.

As a wild tangent, reading this brings to mind Ortega y Gassett's influence on Pedreira's classic study of Puerto Rican character. Although it would be difficult to argue for such an influence on The Masses Are Asses, perhaps it indirectly shapes the work as the revolt of the masses (through the lower classes and the pseudo-aristocracy) has succeeded in creating stagnant slums where the masses languish under the almighty dollar. Perhaps there is still lingering hope, as the "terrorists" described in the play continue their activities, disrupting the routine of the masses, but it seems unlikely. Regardless, one finds it hard to believe Pietri would ever go as far as Pedreira's classist views, but it would be interesting to explore this theme through his other works.

Toussaint Louverture

CLR James's play on the Haitian Revolution, Toussaint Louverture, is an excellent companion to his classic, The Black Jacobins. Focusing on Toussaint Louverture as a tragic hero, which is not uncommon when writers of African descent wrote literary works on the "fathers" of Haitian independence, the play, written in 1934, foreshadows arguments of James in the future. For instance, the presence and influence of the masses is a consistent theme in the play, although it is certainly centered on Toussaint Louverture. The play also features historically accurate portrayals as well as some composites, but the omission of certain actors (such as Sonthonax) is intriguing and raises more questions. Indeed, James even includes Macaya (rendered here as Macoya) in the narrative, the African-born slave revolutionary whose seeming monarchical leanings complicate the question of ideology and the role of the French Revolution. 

As a play, the work functions quite well with the tragic hero of Toussaint Louverture and powerful monologues. Little action or combat scenes are in the play, but its an intriguing work that reflects the importance of Haiti and the Haitian Revolution in the Black Atlantic of the 1930s. For example, Christian Hogsberg's introduction explains the context of the play in the leftist scenes of London as well as opposition to the Italian invasion of Ethiopia and European colonialism in Africa and the West Indies. Included in the text are additional essays and writings, as well as reviews of the play. One of the supplementary readings is an essay by CLR James refuting white supremacy, which argues against it using Toussaint Louverture.