In Jerry Pournelle and S.M. Stirling’s The Prince series, the human colony planet of Sparta has an elaborate constitution designed by political scientists. There are two kings and two royal families, as in ancient Sparta. There is a Senate – at one point, discussing how the Senate is elected, Prince Lysander, heir of one of the Spartan thrones, says, “I’d hate to have to explain it.” Public elections play a role. Citizenship is not a birthright, but must be earned through militia service and various tests; nevertheless, some families are definitely more likely than others to produce citizens. A substantial portion, probably a majority, of the world’s population are “helots” – noncitizens with no vote; this class includes nearly all recent immigrants or the children of such. What legal or other advantages citizenship carries with it, other than the right to vote or hold office, is never made clear, but helots are definitely of lower socioeconomic status. At any rate, the helots feel oppressed enough to start a political movement, and ultimately an armed rebellion, demanding universal suffrage. It’s a lot like the situation in Apartheid South Africa except we’re supposed to sympathize with Botha, not Mandela. The heroes of the story are the defenders of the system – Prince Lysander, and Falkenberg the mercenary general, and their followers. The leaders of the rebel movement are portrayed as hypocrites or fiends, their foot soldiers as dupes and brutes. At the end, the helot rebels have penetrated the streets of the capital, and the city’s merchants, professionals and other petit-bourgeoisie – all of them citizens, militia-trained and currently mobilized – fight them down in a to-the-knife street battle in which the rebels are all but exterminated. A genuine class war, with the upper and middle classes completely defeating the lower. And this is the happy ending.
What about “The Penal Colony”? The conflict between the last follower of the old commadant and society could qualify.
The Caine Mutiny? Lt. Greenwald’s defense case rested on the idea that the mounting incompetence of one ship’s captain is nothing compared to the sanctity of the chain of command in wartime.
Greenwald lost, but said aloud that the shouldn’t have, and that the mutineers should have been ashamed of themselves.
You have it backwards. Greenwald won, by arguing that the mutiny was justified because Queeg was unfit.
Then, after, he said aloud that he shouldn’t have won, and all that.
I was thinking of the other novella that often accompanies it - “The Double.”
One of my fondest memories of my Madness in Literature class came when pretentious git who enjoyed the sound of her voice so much that no one else could get a word in edgewise most classes was arguing at length that
That the main character really did have a doppleganger who was doing everything wrong and even the professor who usually let her dominate the class told her that she was wrong and being tiresome! We all wished he’d done that more often…
Zombie, by Joyce Carol Oates (story from the POV of a Dahmer-esque serial killer)
Grendel, by John Gardner (Grendel is a man-eating monster, so it’s not so much man v. society, it’s more monster v. society, but he is self-admittedly wrong)
Oedipus Rex, by Sophocles (though arguably Oedipus is a victim of venomous fate, he’s also an arrogant, violent man who is somewhat responsible for his own downfall)
As Captain Amazing notes, you’ve given a perfect example, but the explanation is all wrong.
The men who rebelled against Lieutenant Commander Queeg thought they were heroes standing up to a tyrant. While Greenwald gets the mutineers exonerated, he also makes them realize that they were wrong. He gets them to see that Queeg’s paranoia was justified. After all, Queeg WAS surrounded by disloyal officers (most noably Keefer) who disrespected him, undermined his authority, made him a laughingstock to the crew.
Even if Queeg was a petty jerk (and he often was!), he might not have become utterly isolated if his men had shown him some small sign of support. Perhaps Maryk could have swayed Queeg away from the dark side if Queeg hadn’t become (justly) convinced that his junior officers were his enemies.
Thanks, Brain, you’ve confirmed what I’ve thought since I threw the first POS Draka book at the wall - I should steer well clear of Stirling just to keep my blood pressure down. Pity, I mostly like other things Pournelle’s collaborated on.
Fiver, I don’t think TSMD qualifies - Foyle has to break the society he’s in to save it, so how right can it be?
mmm, I’m just being contrarian, but I’m struggling to come up with any good examples here.
This is the novel I came in to mention. I’d also like to add my support for Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment.
If the conflict was Man vs. Nature instead of Man vs. Society, Moby Dick would be a fine example. But it’s not…
I dunno. It’s a short story, but how about Dickens’ A Christmas Carol? If you include plays, Shaw’s Man and Superman would be a good one. Can’t think of many novels, though, except for crime fiction where the criminal is the protagonist.
How about Bartleby the Scrivener?
That “I prefer not to” schtick got really old, really fast.
(Was that written by Hawthorne, or Melville? Been too long since high school.)
The Turner Diaries.
Well, if you think the Draka are supposed to be the heroes, I guess you shouldn’t have thrown the book away. The Draka are monsters. The fact that one or two of them have smidgeons of concience doesn’t make them any less monstrous. They are clearly and unambigiously presented as monsters, more and more monstrous as the series continues.
OK, I gotta admit, Stirling has a thing for lesbian warrior women. And fuedalism. And sexual slavery. But the fact that he’s obsessed with sexual slavery doesn’t neccesarily mean he’s in FAVOR of slavery.
Melville, first published in 1853. My reply to Bartleby: “You’d ‘prefer not to’? Fine. You’re fired. Clear out your desk.”
I would have mentioned that one too, but every time I try to read that book I get too depressed and never end up finishing it.
You’d probably have to find something in the original Russian.
For real literature. . .maybe “Goofus & Gallant”.
Or “Diary of Anne Frank”.
Wait, “Anne Frank”? So the Nazis were right? In what way is “The Diary of Anne Frank” an example where the protagonist was wrong and society was right?
Were the Nazis Anne Frank’s society?
Probably not if you broke it down, but that’s the kind of joke I was going for.
Well, The Prince would appear to be far more reflective of Pournelle’s politics than Stirling’s. It’s far from clear Stirling has any politics (and if he has, they are probably better expressed in such solo projects as the Nantucket series.) Pournelle, OTOH, definitely has definite politics, and is as close to a Buchananite paleocon as an educated and sane person can be – just check out his blog.