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Null States, an appreciation
Null States is the second book in Malka Older’s Centenal cycle, following on Infomocracy and preceding State Tectonics.
The trilogy takes place some 60 years in the future, when much of the world has embraced micro-democracy, a system of sovereign states of 100,000 people each (called centenals), with a multitude of amusingly named and affiliated political parties vying to lead them—USA!USA!, for example, a party described as
Aiding and monitoring this system is a supranational organization, Information—think Google on steroids. Infomocracy centered on an election, and part of the delight of that story was enjoying Older’s sharp wit and keen observations around election theater and the contrast between an ideal of democracy and the reality. In that story you more or less accept Information as a given because the focus in on electoral dirty dealings.
In Null States, the merits and problems of Information are front and center. People struggle to circumvent, co-opt, or neutralize Information, both at the top of the micro-democratic power structure and at the bottom, in states new to the system in parts of the world with a history of turmoil and struggle. Our viewpoint characters are all affiliated with Information in one way or another and are varying degrees of supportive of it, a narrative choice that I heartily endorse (which will surprise no one who knows my Tales of the Polity), in part because I think it puts readers in a mildly uncomfortable position that’s thought-provoking in a beneficial way.
The story also highlights the fact that although much of the world has adopted micro-democracy, not all of it has. Among the holdouts are Switzerland, a rump-state China, and Russia (aggressing on its neighbors in a very recognizable way). These states are called “null states” not because they’re nothing but because there’s no Information there—although Switzerland and China, the two null states we visit in the course of the novel, do have equivalents to Information:
I like this storytelling decision because it acknowledges the fact that no human system is total. There are always places beyond the long arm of whatever your power is, and those places-beyond are always interacting with the places-within, and so it is during this story, both in the highest echelons of power and in the newly formed state governed by the DarFur party in, you guessed it, the Darfur region.
The happenings in the DarFur centenal are a great critique of real-world humanitarian organizations. You get a strong inkling of how things are going to go from the initial encounter of Roz, an Information operative, with Suleyman, the deputy governor of the centenal. Suleyman speaks first.
As you can see from that verbal sparring, the leaders in this new DarFur centenal are going to do their very best to preserve their autonomy. They’re capable and discerning—the only things they lack are resources and power—just like people in regions in our present world that rely on/are subject to humanitarian intervention.
Roz has a few missteps that seem a little unlikely for someone with her field experience (but maybe not! What would I know: I’ve never been an NGO field worker) that let readers see more clearly the kinds of cosmopolitan-centric mistakes aid workers can make (like wishing she could supply every child in the centenal with translator devices—she needs to be reminded that that’s not actually high on local people’s list of priorities) but in the main she’s an adroit, thoughtful, respectful representative of Information truly intent on both being of service and supporting her organization.
At the high end of the power spectrum, Older brings back her Information agent extraordinaire, Mishima, for sleuthing. It’s always fun to watch a nearly unstoppable force at work. Mishima is undercover several times and manages to accomplish some very tricky, very important negotiations—at a uniquely terrible cost for a secret agent. I won’t say more, but believe me; it’s highly satisfying.
Yes, Mishima, you so are.
The story wraps up pleasingly (including an understated romance that had me DYING when it reached the declaration stage) and introduces an ominous new direction for the concluding novel. With regard to Information’s panopticon role, a character from a centenal that puts strict limitations on it has the final word, here in conversation with Roz. Roz speaks first:
Muse upon it, friends!
The trilogy takes place some 60 years in the future, when much of the world has embraced micro-democracy, a system of sovereign states of 100,000 people each (called centenals), with a multitude of amusingly named and affiliated political parties vying to lead them—USA!USA!, for example, a party described as
a tiny government popular mainly in Europe that claims to emulate the culture and values of the former superpower. (No one has ever been able to figure out whether they’re being ironic; even the citizens seem confused.)
Aiding and monitoring this system is a supranational organization, Information—think Google on steroids. Infomocracy centered on an election, and part of the delight of that story was enjoying Older’s sharp wit and keen observations around election theater and the contrast between an ideal of democracy and the reality. In that story you more or less accept Information as a given because the focus in on electoral dirty dealings.
In Null States, the merits and problems of Information are front and center. People struggle to circumvent, co-opt, or neutralize Information, both at the top of the micro-democratic power structure and at the bottom, in states new to the system in parts of the world with a history of turmoil and struggle. Our viewpoint characters are all affiliated with Information in one way or another and are varying degrees of supportive of it, a narrative choice that I heartily endorse (which will surprise no one who knows my Tales of the Polity), in part because I think it puts readers in a mildly uncomfortable position that’s thought-provoking in a beneficial way.
The story also highlights the fact that although much of the world has adopted micro-democracy, not all of it has. Among the holdouts are Switzerland, a rump-state China, and Russia (aggressing on its neighbors in a very recognizable way). These states are called “null states” not because they’re nothing but because there’s no Information there—although Switzerland and China, the two null states we visit in the course of the novel, do have equivalents to Information:
China has its own version of Information,见闻网. It is more top-down than Information while also oddly gossipy. Yes, there are topics that don't show up at all or deviate from the more broadly accepted definition (looking up micro-democracy, for example, triggers an impressive academic barrage of snark and shade).
I like this storytelling decision because it acknowledges the fact that no human system is total. There are always places beyond the long arm of whatever your power is, and those places-beyond are always interacting with the places-within, and so it is during this story, both in the highest echelons of power and in the newly formed state governed by the DarFur party in, you guessed it, the Darfur region.
The happenings in the DarFur centenal are a great critique of real-world humanitarian organizations. You get a strong inkling of how things are going to go from the initial encounter of Roz, an Information operative, with Suleyman, the deputy governor of the centenal. Suleyman speaks first.
”And what are you here to do?”
Roz looks at him in surprise. “We were asked to support your new government in relations with neighboring centenals.” Her words trail off … The sheikh’s expression hasn’t changed, but somehow she knows he’s not asking about the official job description …
“You are checking up on us? Policing us?” The question is hostile, but his tone is level, courteous even …
“We’re here to provide support,” Roz repeats. “You can request for us to leave if you don’t want us here.” …
“Of course we won’t ask you to leave. You are our guests. But we like to know what our guests are looking for here, so we can be sure that they are satisfied.”
“Very hospitable,” Roz says.
As you can see from that verbal sparring, the leaders in this new DarFur centenal are going to do their very best to preserve their autonomy. They’re capable and discerning—the only things they lack are resources and power—just like people in regions in our present world that rely on/are subject to humanitarian intervention.
Roz has a few missteps that seem a little unlikely for someone with her field experience (but maybe not! What would I know: I’ve never been an NGO field worker) that let readers see more clearly the kinds of cosmopolitan-centric mistakes aid workers can make (like wishing she could supply every child in the centenal with translator devices—she needs to be reminded that that’s not actually high on local people’s list of priorities) but in the main she’s an adroit, thoughtful, respectful representative of Information truly intent on both being of service and supporting her organization.
At the high end of the power spectrum, Older brings back her Information agent extraordinaire, Mishima, for sleuthing. It’s always fun to watch a nearly unstoppable force at work. Mishima is undercover several times and manages to accomplish some very tricky, very important negotiations—at a uniquely terrible cost for a secret agent. I won’t say more, but believe me; it’s highly satisfying.
“You didn't take any injuries directly to your torso, and you seem to have avoided any stress spikes throughout the encounter.”
For a brief moment, Mishima feels like the consummate badass she is.
Yes, Mishima, you so are.
The story wraps up pleasingly (including an understated romance that had me DYING when it reached the declaration stage) and introduces an ominous new direction for the concluding novel. With regard to Information’s panopticon role, a character from a centenal that puts strict limitations on it has the final word, here in conversation with Roz. Roz speaks first:
“Do people think Information threatens their autonomy? I mean, I can understand privacy as a concern, but autonomy? Governments can do whatever they want with their centenals.”
There’s a long pause, and when Maria answers, it’s with a patient tone … “Privacy is part of autonomy.
Muse upon it, friends!
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Some reviewers ding the characters as flat (but then, some reviewers ding the romance, and it was PERFECT for me--like Asakiyume wish-fulfillment romance, right there], but I don't think they are. The major ones reveal who they are through their thoughts and actions, and while it's true that we don't get backstories on them, they're interesting in the now.
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Re: *
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The international aid/human rights industry has a big problem with diversity. Not just the skin colour and sexual habits shibboleths, but real differences in values and mores. And ultimately these differences are resolvable only by direct competition between worldviews with the end-result of absorption of one or the other (by violence or otherwise), or adjustment of both, when there is no major difference in power.
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Malka Older has worked for humanitarian agencies, so she's definitely sharp when it comes to skewering the problems with NGOs. And yes, I agree with you 100% about the problems with diversity. It's not real diversity at all. NGOs are as firm about what beliefs and lifestyles people should have as missionaries were in the 1800s. And in the end I think you're right about how the differences are resolved.
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NGOs are as firm about what beliefs and lifestyles people should have as missionaries were in the 1800s.
And now there are more NGOs from non-Western countries, including some very rich ones, who also have very firm beliefs. Just different ones. The clashes of cultures are now much more complex.
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Personally, as Chun Woo draws near the end of his junior year of high school and I find myself suddenly spending evenings as a sounding board for a history essay he should have started earlier, I think it possible that when he's at university I'll have more time. I mea, I *ought* to-- but I also feel as if I shouldn't count on it....
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