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A Problem of Lordship and Comradeship
Dec. 8th, 2011 01:28 pmBecause I'm in the preliminary stages of revising my fantasy novel, I've found myself dwelling on the ways in which its chief hero's methods do and don't work. This, not from the point of view of learning to be a better politician than she is - I almost certainly never shall be, either morally or pragmatically - but from the perspective that some of the things we each want to achieve aren't obviously compatible with some of the others.
Today's episode of Things People Inside My Head Told Me:
Good lordship is helping persons weaker than oneself, and acquiring a cut of power and status from every such deal. The good side of this path is that one becomes powerful in direct proportion to one's beneficence. The bad side of it is that after one has acquired a certain amount of power, one isn't so dependent upon the good opinion of the sort of people one is mostly helping, and has an obvious incentive to ...help... in ways which don't eliminate the need for one's lordship and assistance. This approach is also pretty much designed, by definition, to concentrate agency in oneself and leech it from humbler folk - indeed, to humble them further with every interaction. In a kindly way, to be sure, but not necessarily a less poisonous way for that.
There again, one thing a relatively good lord can be very good at, is the concentrated effort of fighting a worse one.
Good comradeship is also helping persons weaker than oneself, but sharing any net gain of power and status as far as possible. The good side of this path is that one deliberately diffuses power and agency amongst peers, eliminating the temptation to become a boss who can dole out good or ill with equal facility. The bad side of it is that strength won by good and frank action is thus diffused away from those most likely to repeat it, whereas well-meaning or downright malicious lords who do want to become bosses concentrate the power they win much more rapidly, and may therefore end up becoming the boss of the would-be good comrades in pretty short order. The personally egalitarian approach fosters independence and respect, but can't compel - and certainly may not receive - either.
One thing about a good comrade is that you don't necessarily notice one until you need them.
Another way to look at this is in terms of heroism. A hero is a sort of good lord, at least in reputation; a villain is a sort of bad one. A good comrade is just a mate, a good neighbour, the sort you want beside you in a pinch. A bad comrade is, I suppose, a lowlife, a mook, a no-count bum. They'll do you a bad turn as soon as look at you, but they haven't the mind to make any real gain from their dirty tricks in the long run. That would mean taking on responsibility, if only to themselves, which they would enjoy about as much as a shit sundae.
Three Katherines of Allingdale is partly about the desperate need for, and desperate vulnerabilities of, the 'comradeship' mode of doing good stuff. As a left-libertarian, that appeals to me both intellectually and by instinct - or perhaps I ought to say that this dual appeal is why my politics are like that in the first place. But the lordly/heroic/villainous approach is strong in places where comradeship is weak, and sometimes it defends places where weakness can't be afforded. Then the problem is how to get off the @$&!ing tiger afterwards!
I don't have much more of an answer to that, than I did before I thought of the story, or imagined this dichotomy explicitly. Better questions, though.
Interested to know how far this makes sense to anybody else, or what other takes people have on it, and on how to handle it fictionally or in reality. The heroic narrative is mighty dominant in fantastic literature especially, where its intuitive opposite seems to be not so much the comradely as the - well, anti-heroic! - mook-o-rama. But an anti-hero doesn't look to me like the other positive pole from the Exceptional Levelling-Up Hero, at all, at all...
Today's episode of Things People Inside My Head Told Me:
Good lordship is helping persons weaker than oneself, and acquiring a cut of power and status from every such deal. The good side of this path is that one becomes powerful in direct proportion to one's beneficence. The bad side of it is that after one has acquired a certain amount of power, one isn't so dependent upon the good opinion of the sort of people one is mostly helping, and has an obvious incentive to ...help... in ways which don't eliminate the need for one's lordship and assistance. This approach is also pretty much designed, by definition, to concentrate agency in oneself and leech it from humbler folk - indeed, to humble them further with every interaction. In a kindly way, to be sure, but not necessarily a less poisonous way for that.
There again, one thing a relatively good lord can be very good at, is the concentrated effort of fighting a worse one.
Good comradeship is also helping persons weaker than oneself, but sharing any net gain of power and status as far as possible. The good side of this path is that one deliberately diffuses power and agency amongst peers, eliminating the temptation to become a boss who can dole out good or ill with equal facility. The bad side of it is that strength won by good and frank action is thus diffused away from those most likely to repeat it, whereas well-meaning or downright malicious lords who do want to become bosses concentrate the power they win much more rapidly, and may therefore end up becoming the boss of the would-be good comrades in pretty short order. The personally egalitarian approach fosters independence and respect, but can't compel - and certainly may not receive - either.
One thing about a good comrade is that you don't necessarily notice one until you need them.
Another way to look at this is in terms of heroism. A hero is a sort of good lord, at least in reputation; a villain is a sort of bad one. A good comrade is just a mate, a good neighbour, the sort you want beside you in a pinch. A bad comrade is, I suppose, a lowlife, a mook, a no-count bum. They'll do you a bad turn as soon as look at you, but they haven't the mind to make any real gain from their dirty tricks in the long run. That would mean taking on responsibility, if only to themselves, which they would enjoy about as much as a shit sundae.
Three Katherines of Allingdale is partly about the desperate need for, and desperate vulnerabilities of, the 'comradeship' mode of doing good stuff. As a left-libertarian, that appeals to me both intellectually and by instinct - or perhaps I ought to say that this dual appeal is why my politics are like that in the first place. But the lordly/heroic/villainous approach is strong in places where comradeship is weak, and sometimes it defends places where weakness can't be afforded. Then the problem is how to get off the @$&!ing tiger afterwards!
I don't have much more of an answer to that, than I did before I thought of the story, or imagined this dichotomy explicitly. Better questions, though.
Interested to know how far this makes sense to anybody else, or what other takes people have on it, and on how to handle it fictionally or in reality. The heroic narrative is mighty dominant in fantastic literature especially, where its intuitive opposite seems to be not so much the comradely as the - well, anti-heroic! - mook-o-rama. But an anti-hero doesn't look to me like the other positive pole from the Exceptional Levelling-Up Hero, at all, at all...
