by Lainelle Brazee
Would you choose to die of cancer knowingly and in full consciousness or would you choose to be healed, self-indebted for eternity at the cost of autonomy? How would you feel if this choice was made for you, without any input or consideration of your thoughts or feelings? In Dawn, Octavia Butler untucks just enough of the tarp so we can see what’s under it with a glance in its direction, the corner of plastic fluttering madly in the wind. The Oankali offer humanity a ‘choice’ to escape extinction: at the cost of self-determination. While picking away at human autonomy like the nail beds of an anxious teenager, genetic manipulation, hybridization, and sterilization are services insisted to be in humanity’s best interest.
Something I indignantly discovered upon reading the novel was the tendency for the Oankali to alter humans without their full consent, or any consent at all! When Lilith awakens at the beginning of the novel, she finds an unexplained scar across her abdomen, which is evidence of an unknown procedure performed on her in her unconscious state. This immediate violation sets the tone for the Oankali’s approach to humanity: they act in what they believe is the human’s best interest with disregard for real choice. Their sterilization of all humans until they (the Oankali, not the human of course) decide otherwise underscores their control. Even as they value (repeatedly) to claim consent, they assume it rather than seek it. Perhaps they don’t know the difference, and as we talked about in class, mental blocks don’t apply to the Oankali. Just because, for example, Joseph clearly had apprehensions about sleeping with Nikanji, those weren’t enough of a reason to halt the process because his body wanted it. I think we as humans don’t just do things because our body wants/needs to, we think about things and potential consequences first. The Ooloi and the Oankali both seem to lack this ability, or they choose to ignore it. I’m not sure which. Even though the Onkali aren’t great at consent, they do help. Preventing genetic disorders and curing diseases is helpful, Lilith, for example, no longer has cancer. However, the underlying costs make their interventions feel disturbingly akin to colonialism- and slavery.
The Oankali’s insistence that humans must be participants in their genetic hybridization process is even more terrifying. They view this as inevitable and necessary (it is important to note that without this process the Oankali will die), but in the process, they strip humanity of our own choice in shaping the future. This echoes the historical justifications (thanks Octavia) of colonial powers, who imposed their own definitions of progress and civilization upon those that were subjugated. Butler’s narrative forces us to question whether survival under such conditions is any different than enslavement.
A small part of me is annoyed at Butler for untucking the tarp. I’d like to read without guilt, thank you very much (however, this doesn’t outweigh my fear of ignorance). But of course, she lays these traps knowing we’ll fall into them willfully, even eagerly. We were warned before we even opened the book by Dr. McCoy, and I have spent a fair amount of time wondering if it’s better or worse that we knew of these traps’ existence beforehand. We would have fallen into them either way, but if we know about them beforehand we can be more mindful of our thinking process and recognize the ruts our minds pull into, not because they’re correct, but because they’re convenient. Even though Butler passed almost twenty years ago, I feel as if her writing is so incredibly transcendent. She knows that although what’s under the tarp isn’t easy to see, it’s imperative that we see it rather than live our lives in blissful ignorance. She must have been so incredibly intelligent and observant (we can see that from the hysteria Parable of the Sower has caused thirty years after its publication) to be able to not only pinpoint problems but write them down, tactfully integrating them into stories as narrowly disguised traps for the observant reader to fall into. It’s also admirable that you could read her work while staying on the surface level. It’s definitely not recommended, but it’s entirely possible.
Are humans really doomed to destroy ourselves? Butler (loudly) suggests that humanity’s combination of intelligence and hierarchical thinking makes us inherently self-destructive. This view presents a grim assessment of human nature. Butler seems to remove herself from the rest of us while implying that left to our own devices, humans will always fall into endless circles of war and destruction. The Oankali see themselves as ‘saving’ humanity from this fate, but the methods they choose to employ are arguably coercive. Are the Oankali truly serving humanity, or are they replacing one form of destruction with another? I have come back to this question again and again while reading the novel. I honestly don’t know if an answer exists. I don’t know if one is supposed to. Lilith also seems to struggle inherently with this question. She’s forced to accept the Oankali change to ensure humanity’s survival, as are the other humans who have been Awakened. The bleak perspective of the Oankali (of Butler in disguise?) suggests humans’ incapability to change without external forces. Free will and destiny come into play here, left blowing in the wind like the corner of the tarp for us as we read to ponder.
It also hasn’t escaped me that as Lilith becomes more integrated with the Oankali, the more she adapts to them, the less human she feels. Butler’s painful nudging in our ribs leads us to notice the broader metaphor unsheathed as the tarp falls away; cultural assimilation and the fear of losing heritage under an overwhelming foreign influence sounds pretty similar to Lilith’s situation. The loss of human-ness can also be related to the way people are treated, a problem that has existed for as long as people have. I don’t think the Oankali caused this lessening self-identity as a human on purpose, or maliciously. Just their existence forces humanity into a sort of hybrid model, not alien but not wholly human. The loss of autonomy once again comes into play here not just externally but biologically, as humans become something fundamentally different (through unconsenting procedures consisting of forced genetic alterations).
Butler forces us again and again to be uncomfortable, and for that solely I don’t think is reason enough to dispute her or feel tricked. By facing harsh realities through the fantasy world of the Oankali, we see that survival under oppression isn’t a victory. Just simply surviving is not a win. It’s just a different form of defeat. We, along with Lilith, are forced to look into what is left, the fragments of what it means to be human, questioning if survival without choice even counts as survival at all. With lots left to be desired and seen, Butler walks away with the corner of the plastic tarp fluttering madly in the wind, departing with the coveted key that unlocks the question of whether it’s better to look or to live in ignorance.