The Martians are coming

The Martians Are Coming! War, Peace, Love and Reflection in H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds and Kurd Laßwitz’ Auf zwei Planeten.

1. Introduction

At the end of the nineteenth century, ‘news from Mars’ excited scientists, writers, journalists, and the general public.[1] More than a hundred years later, the successful Pathfinder mission in 1997 and a string of Hollywood movies have rooted the planet in our consciousness again. But while NASA’s programme of Mars exploration is viewed rather prosaically in the context of our continuing quest for knowledge, our great-grandparents were entertaining much more daring, romantic and even apocalyptic notions about the planet. They dreamed about intelligent life there, and what might happen if mankind were to encounter it. Imagining the encounter with the alien, they began to reflect on their own rapidly changing world, and their role in it.

Giovanni Schiaparelli’s discovery of the lines on the Martian surface in 1877 and Percival Lowell’s suggestion in 1895 that these were ‘canals’ cut by intelligent Martians prompted two writers to explore what it would be like if Martians were to land on Earth. One of these writers, Herbert George Wells, famously published The War of the Worlds in a newspaper serial in 1897, describing the invasion of peaceful Victorian England by technologically superior, ‘unsympathetic’ Martians. Wells’ monsters wreak havoc in Surrey and London, and almost succeed in wiping out the population with their heat rays and black poison gas, before Earth’s bacteria destroy them themselves.

What is little known is that in the same year that The War of the Worlds was first read in England, a German writer, Kurd Laßwitz, quite independently published a book about Martians coming to Earth[2], entitled Auf zwei Planeten. Laßwitz, a scholar, physicist and humanist in the tradition of Goethe and Kant, came up with a vision at least as exciting and thought provoking as Wells’. His Martians are humanoid and come to Earth as benevolent culture-bearers. They have reached a highly advanced stage of technical and scientific development, but, more importantly, they have reached a moral and ethical maturity, which makes them appear almost god-like in the eyes of men. Their home world is presented as a technological and social utopia, and it is this advanced state that they want to share with us, albeit on their terms.

Like Wells, Laßwitz explores what happens when men who thought of themselves as lords of creation are suddenly confronted with a race that is far advanced in its technology and science. In contrast to Wells’ repulsive, malevolent monsters, though, Laßwitz shows us a highly sophisticated culture with a truly democratic decision-making process and an evolved sense of personal freedom and public responsibility based on the Kantian imperative. Mankind’s exposure to this advanced race inevitably leads to conflict between the two cultures and has far-reaching effects on individuals and entire societies.

Auf zwei Planeten reached high circulation figures in Germany, especially after WW I, and was translated into most European languages. Full of astonishing technological predictions, it inspired several generations of German scientists, amongst them Hermann Oberth, the father of German rocketry, and Werner von Braun, who worked on the German V2 rockets in the 1940s and the American space programme in the 1960s. Laßwitz’ vision of a space station in geo-stationary orbit provided the blueprint for the International Space Station currently under construction.[3] Yet in spite of its popularity, the novel was considered ‘too democratic’ by the National Socialists[4] and no longer printed. After 1945, the book was forgotten and is hardly known in Germany today[5], let alone in the wider world: an (abridged) English translation was not available until 1971!

In this paper, I aim to show how Wells and Laßwitz started from the same premise and yet came up with completely different visions of the future. We will see how Victorian England and Wilhelmine Germany shaped their imagination, in particular their critique of the main threat to world peace posed by their respective regimes: colonialism and imperialism. Furthermore, both authors offer unique responses to the challenge of the scientific revolution, and pose fundamental questions about mankind’s moral and ethical evolution in the face of scientific and technological progress. Inventing an ‘aesthetics of the future’ by writing about science and technology, ethics and morals, the fate of the individual and that of the human race, love and duty, culture and nature, they set the ground rules for the most popular genre of the twentieth century: Science Fiction.

Their tales have encouraged a mode of thinking that fuels our present endeavours in space, and suggest solutions to problems that still beset us on Earth: an ecology in danger, rampant nationalism, and social injustice. They explore the age-old problems of war and peace from a unique vantage point, and while countless followers have mined the books for their sensationalist aspects, I want to focus on their original ideas on war, peace, love, and scientific progress, ideas that have lost none of their relevance.

2. War

In his seminal study of literary depictions of future wars, I.F. Clarke ranks Wells’ The War of the Worlds as “the perfect nineteenth-century myth of the imaginary war” (Clarke, I.F. 84). By this he means that Wells had combined a number of elements already in the public psyche at the time, and given it expression and meaning in a symbolic representation that was immediately understood. The elements or ideas were all based on scientific or technological discoveries: Darwin’s theory of evolution, the experience of changing methods of warfare, and the theory that man might not be alone in the Universe. Wells drew his own conclusions from the violence with which colonial wars were fought, which seemed to support the Darwinian idea of the ‘survival of the fittest’. He was also quick in realizing that military technology had advanced to such an extent that any future war would not just involve the combatants but the civilian population as well, that these wars would be mechanical, and that the side with the most advanced technology would prevail.

Much of this was standard fare for the contemporary readers of sensationalist novels and pamphlets. The future had become the canvas for war games: the arms race on land and sea inspired authors in England, France and Germany to ever-bloodier depictions of imaginary battles. In direct response to the Franco-Prussian War, where the efficient Prussian army with its superior technology had won an unexpectedly swift and decisive victory against the supposedly greatest military power in the world, English writers focused on the potential threat coming from the new German empire. The future war novel had been pioneered in George Chesney’s ‘Battle of Dorking’ in 1871, with no fewer than 21 imitations in the same year. Chesney’s response to the emergence of Germany as a potential enemy that might threaten the existing balance of power gave his readers a first taste of what it might feel like to be on the losing side: in his narrative, the invading German soldiers behave with ‘insolence’, arising from ‘a sense of immeasurable superiority’ (Chesney 71). His intention was obvious: as a retired general, he wanted to lobby the English government to step up its armament programme, for “a nation too selfish to defend its liberty could not have been fit to retain it.” (Chesney 73)

In The War of the Worlds, Wells picked up on the fashion of novels predicting war in Europe after the unification and militarisation of Germany. However, he gave his tale a new dimension by elevating it onto an interplanetary scale. As this required a leap of faith from his readers, he used Chesney’s semi-documentary style. :

It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days. At most, terrestrial men fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet, across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And early in the twentieth century came the great disillusionment. (Wells, War of the Worlds 9)

In contrast to Chesney, though, Wells and his narrator appear much more distanced from the events, viewing them almost with scientific detachment. Indeed, Wells applied Darwin’s evolutionary theory to the threat, pointing out that what the Martians were doing to mankind was no worse than what the colonial powers themselves had done to other, ‘inferior’ races. (Wells, War of the Worlds 11)

It is a moot point whether the Martians in The War of the Worlds are Germans dressed up as bogeymen. True, there are passages in the novel which seem to signify that Wells was thinking about the threat coming from Germany (after all, two years earlier, in 1895, Emperor Wilhelm II had declared that Germany had become a ‘world power’), but I believe that in this case the novel is really depicting a more general threat. That doesn’t mean that Wells was not taking the threat of a war with Germany seriously - he does his very best to prepare his readers for what they might encounter.[6]

The reality of this new type of war is brought home in shocking detail: the limited conflict, conducted between two nations almost like a ritual, is replaced by the conception of universal war, which totally annihilates the opponent.[7] The Martian style of war that Wells depicts is all-engulfing, it enters every home, it does not discriminate between classes, it does not spare women, children or the clergy, and it offers no quarter. The narrator in The War of the Worlds who is himself initially swept up by the ‘war fever’ is deeply disturbed by such a ruthless and ‘efficient’ enemy: after a near mental breakdown, he realises that he has to come to terms with this new reality. Mankind has been pushed from its throne: ‘the fear and empire of man had passed away’.(Wells, War of the Worlds 154)

Charles Gannon points out that The War of the Worlds represents the radical extreme of Wells’s technological and military inventiveness: “Although dismissed as pure fantasy in Wells’s own time, a modern reader may find his descriptions of the Martians’ weapons suffused with urgent implications” (Gannon 40). Indeed, there is a fine line between the artistic imagination toying with the idea of a new technology that might shock or astound the readers, and thinking through a technological or scientific process and extrapolating from it a likely future development. Both Wells and Laßwitz were to retain their fascination with technological progress and its likely consequences for warfare, in Wells’ case right up to the outbreak of World War I.[8]

Wells was convinced that the ability to build and control machines would be the decisive factor in a future conflict. His Martians employ excavating and building machines, which in turn assemble the Martian tripods. These tripods themselves are highly mobile, impervious fighting machines, they can destroy the English guns and warships at will and cover ground quickly.

The ability to manoeuvre freely also occurred to Laßwitz as a major advantage in any armed conflict. But while Wells drops the idea of flight once the Martian projectiles had made their way from Mars to Earth, Laßwitz imagines a whole civilisation built on a technology that is able to control gravity, with armed and armoured Martian airships that can reach any point on the planet in a matter of hours.

Auf zwei Planeten thus takes a global viewpoint: following the moment of first contact, when three German scientists in a balloon expedition to reach the North Pole are rescued by Martians who have built a base there, it soon becomes clear to the explorers that the Martians are planning to conquer Earth. The Martians, an old civilization, have a keen sense of their own superiority. This attitude is partly based on their observation of the Eskimos, the only humans they have encountered so far. The Martians believe that if the rest of mankind is on the same cultural level, they are justified in taking control and using the planet’s resources for their own benefit. Any objections by the protesting German explorers are brushed aside with the comment: “We come to you to bring you the benefits of our culture” (Auf zwei Planeten 264; tr. IC). When it becomes clear to the Martians that the humans don’t want to be conquered, they are faced with an ethical dilemma, and have to reconsider their plans. They conclude they must get a clearer picture of mankind first, and set out on an expedition to learn more about us.

Unfortunately their next encounter with ‘civilized’ human beings is with an English warship. A misunderstanding leads to exchange of gunfire, Martians are taken hostage, and the Martians in the airship try to force the English to release the hostages. Captain Keswick and his hotheaded Lieutenant Prim, self-important lords of the sea, cannot bear the humiliation. For them, it is a question of honor to defeat the new enemy, and to bring the Martians to London in triumph. They continue the unequal fight, and even though the Martians try not to inflict any damage, the English warship is lucky to escape the awesome power of the Martian weapons. The Martian restraint is taken as a sign of weakness, and upon their return the English fleet is made ready for a possible invasion.

The Martians conclude that mankind is simply too immature to master its own affairs. They demand compensation from the English government, and set an ultimatum for the English to comply, otherwise they will be put under quarantine. The English government refuses to acknowledge these conditions, which in turn forces the Martians to embargo all English harbors. In an ironic reversal of sides the greatest colonial power becomes the helpless victim of Martian gunboat diplomacy.[9] At Portsmouth, where the English fleet is concentrated, the English try to break the embargo and in the ensuing battle they lose most of their ships. In spite of all efforts by the Martians to prevent any loss of life, the English only surrender when their flagship is sunk.

With the coastal blockade and the fleet destroyed, England’s power is broken. The most powerful nation of the time is ‘written out of history’. The colonies declare their independence, and other countries rush in to secure the trade regions for themselves. This brings the English to their senses. To save what is left of their empire, they sue for peace. Rather predictably, the squabble over English colonies starts further wars. Reluctantly, the Martians take on ‘the white man’s burden’: the Martian representative has no alternative but to declare the whole Earth as Martian protectorate, to outlaw any military confrontation, and to enforce the disarmament of all nations.

It is no accident that the English are singled out by Laßwitz as the main adversaries of the Martians. After all, they were the greatest sea power of the time, and it is with a sense of pride that he can set the explorer spirit of the Germans against the nation that rules the sea. Laßwitz is not above national sentiments,[10] but seldom jingoistic.[11] The English may be arrogant and unable to deal with the new realities, but their valor is undeniable. Whilst Wells’ sea battle with the Martians in The War of the Worlds is a struggle between good and evil, Laßwitz’ sympathies are more equally divided. The English defense in the ‘battle of Portsmouth’ is a matter of misplaced pride, and the ships sent against the Martians defend not just the English upper classes but also the freedom of mankind. On the other hand, the inability on the side of the English to negotiate and reason with the superior Martians simply because that would be an acknowledgement of their own inferiority shows a dangerous lack of common sense. Interestingly, Laßwitz does not portray the Germans to be any better than the English, and the German Imperial Guard is destroyed in an equally spectacular manner.

Even though the Martians behave most courteously towards the German explorers (who resist their benevolent captors to the best of their ability), they have no sympathies with Wilhelmine Germany and its militaristic social order. In a graphic chapter on the ‘unfortunate events in the fatherland’, Laßwitz presents a masterpiece of ironic political criticism, skillfully disguised to avoid prosecution by the Imperial censors. Like Wells he employs a narrative device to distance himself from the message he delivers: his narrator quotes from a newspaper report about the ‘shameful events’ which leave Prussia without an army and the Emperor without his clothes.

When the Germans do not follow the Martian order for global demobilization, Martian airships turn up over Berlin to force the Emperor to comply. The ‘report’ gives a detailed description of how the imperial guard was disarmed: the Emperor, mustering a parade designed to show off his military power, openly displays his defiance to the Martians. But the Martians use huge magnets and pull everything metallic into the air; the ‘invincible’ Prussian war machine is tossed about like straw in the wind. In a brilliant parody that foreshadows Heinrich Mann’s Der Untertan (1919), the belligerent emperor shouts: „Meine Herren! Hier gibt es nur einen Weg – hindurch!“ (A2P 607) (Gentlemen, there is only one thing to do – attack!). The Martians are ready for the stubborn advance – they calmly inform the Emperor that they have his son on board their ship and invite the Emperor to join him for peace talks, on their terms, of course. The mighty German army has been beaten without a shot fired.

Following a conservative backlash on Mars, where outraged Martian citizens demand that the ‘savage’ humans should be taught respect (A2P 458), the Martians on Earth embark on a programme of re-education, which every human is required to follow. Germany is governed by a Martian ‘Kultor’ in Berlin. Physically weakened by the effects of the Earth’s heavier gravity and moister atmosphere, the Martians are unable to resist the corrupting effect of power; and in time their rule becomes despotic. While the humans are benefiting materially from the way the Martians clean up production and end hunger, they lose their spirit because they have no say in their own affairs any more. Naturally, after several years of suppression, a resistance movement springs up: the ‘league of humans’. Across the Atlantic, American engineers and scientists manage to discover the secrets of the Martian technology and lead the war of independence to push the Martians out. The Martians back on their home planet are deeply divided over the question whether to use force to enforce their will or to recognize human independence.

Wells and Laßwitz don’t sit on the sidelines in their tales of war: Wells’ sympathies are clearly with those who have the spirit to resist the Martian monsters, but he prefers an intelligent approach to mindless heroism or wishful boasting. The artilleryman who dreams of surviving underground is a case in point – his talk is cheap, but it is the serious scientists chipping at the Martian secrets who ensure that mankind is better prepared if and when the Martians strike again. Laßwitz is similarly supportive of human resistance, but not simply because the Martians have disturbed the balance of power. No yoke is acceptable for enlightened human beings, and it is precisely by resisting that the humans show that they are worthy of recognition as equals.

Rudi Schweikert, the editor of the recent re-issue of Auf zwei Planeten, points out that there is a distinct difference between Wells and Laßwitz in their treatment of war. For Wells, the important point is the threat of an invasion, the danger to the survival of mankind. His Martians are inhuman killing machines; they are incapable of feelings and cannot be reasoned with.[12] For Laßwitz, on the other hand, the Martians are culture-bringers and willing to enter into a dialogue with humans once they realize that they too base their actions on moral and ethical considerations. It is only because of misunderstandings that the conflict between humans and Martians erupts into violence, and war is only one of many themes that Laßwitz explores.

What unites Wells and Laßwitz when writing about war is their satirical and enlightened approach to the colonial politics of the imperialist powers. Both present a mirror to the greedy nations that carve up the planet amongst them, a satirical mirror that turns all the colonial powers into well-organized Martian colonies. Wells allows his native England to suffer the fate that it was forcing upon its colonies at the very time the book was published, and Laßwitz criticizes the imperialistic stance of all powers involved by ridiculing them. What he is after, Schweikert suggests, is the ‘die Läuterung der menschlichen Moral’(Schweikert 849/850) (the purification of human morals), and this is achieved by suffering under and then emulating the lofty Martian spirit, while resisting the oppression when the Martians are ‘contaminated’ by human egotism.

There is a certain grim satisfaction in seeing one’s own side beaten, especially when they deserve to be beaten. Wells’ mixed feelings towards the ruling classes in Victorian England are well known, and one could construct an argument that Laßwitz also took delight in humiliating his blinkered, arrogant and unscientific superiors. However, mankind does not deserve to be beaten in The War of the Worlds because it is simply overpowered by an adversary that literally fell out of the sky. It is a different story in Auf zwei Planeten: the English deserve to be beaten in the sea battle because they don’t use their brains, and the Germans deserve to be made an example of with their stubborn pomp and misplaced pride. The decisiveness of the defeat is a clear signal that change is going to come, that the old order and the old certainties are no more. Yet while Wells and Chesney look back to what used to be, bemoaning the loss of that ‘safe’ feeling pervading Victorian society, Laßwitz looks forward, embracing the change and the opportunities the exposure to the Martian culture can bring to mankind. That is not to say that he condones the behaviour of the Martians when they begin to imitate the humans and start to act as cultural and economic imperialists. As William Fischer points out, Laßwitz’ criticism of war was highly perceptive with regard to his own society. [13]

3. Peace

Wells argues in The War of the Worlds that peace can only be found at the other side of war. Laßwitz on the other hand expends considerable energies in Auf zwei Planeten to show how peace could be achieved even when faced with a superior adversary. Born eighteen years before Wells in 1848, Laßwitz had actually served in France during the Franco-Prussian war when still a student, though he did not see action. William Fischer notes that:

[…] he was affected not so much by the shock of combat and suffering, or the philosophical implications of war in general, as he was by the political significance of the particular conflict he experienced, the growing importance of science and technology which it so clearly demonstrated, and the spirit of confidence which the victory reflected and in turn encouraged in his society. (Fischer 57/58)

At a time when the German Empire set out to claim its ‘Platz an der Sonne’ by acquiring and extending its own colonies, Laßwitz added his voice to those who warned of the fatal consequences of such militaristic adventures. This did not go down well with the critics of the time. His noble Martians were described as ‘Typen der internationalen Friedensapostel’, and he was accused of undermining the German spirit by spreading the ‘kühlen Atem der Tendenz’ (Bölsche 337). His views were compared to those of the controversial pacifist Bertha von Suttner,[14] who was one of the few who had favorably reviewed Auf zwei Planeten in 1898. Indeed, von Suttner was perceptive enough to recognize that what Laßwitz was offering not only went completely against the grain of the dominant Zeitgeist, but also mapped out an alternative to the pursuit of ‘Machtpolitik’. To her it was obvious that the function of the Martian ‘takeover’ was to create ‘international solidarity’ amongst human beings, and that the book contained ‘socialist thinking’. [15]

Perhaps this interpretation exaggerates the impact of the book, but Laßwitz, a descendant of classical Weimar and fully committed to its ideal of humanism and its sense of cultural mission, firmly believed in the amelioration of mankind. By portraying a morally and ethically advanced civilisation, he aimed to show by what steps humanity itself could reach this higher level of maturity. These steps are: an advancement in science and technology, moral education, and a general appreciation of the miracle of life which teaches us to respect other cultures instead of forcing them to adhere to our own values. His Martians are teachers on a path that mankind has to follow to reach this goal.

We get a clear sense of what science and technology might deliver to counter the main reason for war, namely the economics of scarcity, the lack of basic resources which forces mankind to engage in endless battles for survival, control and domination. The scientific dream that we could somehow create our basic resources and end the vicious circle of hunger and greed is splendidly described in Auf zwei Planeten in the way the Martians have used their technological mastery to eradicate want and hunger:

Steine in Brot! Eiweißstoffe und Kohlehydrate aus Fels und Boden, aus Luft und Wasser ohne Vermittlung der Pflanzenzelle! – Das war die Kunst und Wissenschaft gewesen, wodurch die Martier sich von dem niedrigen Kulturstandpunkt des Ackerbaues emanzipiert und sich zu unmittelbaren Söhnen der Sonne gemacht hatten. (A2P 393, abr. tr. in Two Planets 181, modified by IC)

Stones to bread! Protein and carbohydrates from rocks and soil, from air and water without the photosynthesis of the plant cell! This had been the art and science by which the Martians had emancipated themselves from the early cultural stage of farming and how they had become direct sons of the sun.

Laßwitz is not content with presenting a utopian technology, he also gives us an idea how the Martians actually reached this enviable state. In a Martian museum, the German explorers learn that the Martians, too, had had their wars and civil wars, competing for basic resources, but that this period was at least 18,000 years ago. Interestingly, when the scientific breakthrough was achieved that allowed the synthetic production of food, the farmers would not accept the change, and for thousands of years there was civil war (a veiled criticism of the rule of the Junker in Imperial Germany?). But the Martians are admanent about the outcome: “nur die Intelligenz ist es, welche der ewigen Idee entgegenwächst.“ (A2P 412) (It is only intelligence which grows towards the eternal idea)

Science and technology as life-enhancing and peace-making factors are visible in other aspects of Martian life as well. In order to find out the truth about the events surrounding the confrontation with the English warship, the Martians use a ‘Retrospective’, a kind of telescope that allows them to observe events in the past. Thus they find out what really happened in the conflict with the English warship. When it turns out that the English were justified in thinking the Martians were attacking them, the papers, even those who carried jingoistic headlines and demanded revenge, inform the population accordingly, and the Martians change their mind. Any danger of nationalistic fervor is countered by another wise invention: Martians are required by law to inform themselves by reading a variety of papers with opposing views. If they don’t, they loose their right to vote.

Science and technology, their application to ease life, the will to progress morally and ethically, and to develop one’s aesthetic sense are all part of ‘Numenheit’, the sense of being a Martian, dedicated to its culture and spiritual life. The German explorers and later on the whole of humanity perceive that these beings have reached a level of awareness that only thousands of years of education and culture can achieve. Outwardly, the Martians look almost human apart from their big, expressive eyes, which convey their superiority. Their trained minds pick up all human languages with ease, though they do prefer German which is closer to theirs and capable of expressing more complex themes.

Perceiving that war is a constant threat for all humanity, the Martians set about the task of re-educating man: to show them how he can escape ‘seiner selbstverschuldeten Unmündigkeit’ (his mental immaturity for which he himself is responsible).[16] They know that humans are capable of this because they have seen the integrity and selfless behavior of the German explorers. What unites the two races, bridging all differences, is their dream of peace[17], and their peaceful pursuit of knowledge. One instance of this common disposition is the scientific exploration of the planet, as exemplified by the three German balloonists who encounter the Martian explorers on the North Pole. A second, more powerful bridge is built when the Martians take the Germans up to their space station high above the Pole. Looking down on Earth, they realise that they share the capacity for awe in the face of creation:

„In tiefem Schweigen standen die Deutschen, völlig versunken in den Anblick, der noch keinem Menschenauge bisher vergönnt gewesen war. Noch niemals war es ihnen so klar zum Bewußtsein gekommen, was es heißt, im Weltraum auf dem Körnchen hingewirbelt zu werden, daß man Erde nennt; noch niemals hatten sie den Himmel unter sich erblickt. Die Martier ehrten ihre Stimmung. Auch sie, denen die Wunder des Weltraums vertraut waren, verstummten vor der Gegenwart des Unendlichen. Die machtvollen Bewohner des Mars und die schwachen Geschöpfe der Erde, im Gefühl des Erhabenen beugten sich ihre Herzen in gleicher Demut der Allmacht, die durch die Himmel waltet. Aus der Stille des Alls sprach die Stimme des einen Vaters zu seinen Kindern und erfüllte ihre Seelen mit andächtigem Vertrauen.“ (A2P 212, TP 92, modified by IC)

In deep silence the Germans stood, completely lost in the view which no Earthly eye had ever beheld. More clearly and more overwhelmingly than ever before, they realized what it meant to be whirled about in space on a small particle named Earth. Never had they seen the sky underneath them. The Martians respected their thoughtfulness. They, too, to whom the wonders of space were familiar, became silent in the presence of the infinite. The powerful inhabitants of Mars and the weak creatures of Earth, in the presence of the sublime, bowed their hearts in reverence to the omnipotence that rules the heavens. From the silence of the universe sounded the voice of the one father to his children and filled their souls with solemn confidence.

In this moment we see the link between Martians and Humans, a link which is stronger than the differences. We are accepted as potential equals, a spiritual band linking the two planets while there is only the vastness of empty space in The War of the Worlds.

Significantly, the final step on the way to peace between the two planets is the unselfish act of Ell, son of a stranded Martian explorer and a human mother, who had instigated the German polar expedition in the hope that it would encounter Martians there. When the human resistance[18] has taken Martians hostage and Martian public opinion demands the extermination of the ‘barbarians’, it is he who sacrifices himself in order to avoid a catastrophic confrontation.[19] Interestingly, this ultimate sacrifice is not only dictated by Martian logic (following the path that the mind has recognized as the right one), but also by human love.

4. Love

Wells’ Martians are all brain but have no heart. The narrator believes that they communicate telepathically, though the content of their communications is beyond his comprehension. He witnesses how the Martians produce buds on their bodies, small copies of themselves, and from this he deduces that they have no genders. For Charles Gannon, the symbolism of this method of reproduction has complex and crucial implications, in that “Wells eliminates a basic reason for, and force in, communal relations, love, compassion, selflessness, and sensuality.” (Gannon 42)

The consequence of their advanced mental evolution ‘may entail horrific social, even physiological, alterations’ (ibid.). Their dedication to self-interest and efficiency is shown to lead to egoism, narcissism, intolerance for the different, and indifference to other species. This is in marked contrast to the very human form of love represented by the close relationship between the narrator and his wife, who are separated at the beginning of the conflict. Only at the end, against all hope, are they reunited, and the narrator can reflect on the ultimate value of their relationship.

Laßwitz, too, shows human suffering in separation, and presents love as the greatest bond between humans, a bond that actually defines our humanity. The twist in Auf zwei Planeten lies in the fact that one of the explorers, Saltner, actually falls in love with a Martian woman, La. Laßwitz’ portrayal of ‘loving the alien’ may have been his greatest risk, but it is also one of his greatest achievements. The developing relationship between Saltner and La shows up vital differences between the races. In addition, Laßwitz confronts us with a beautiful female Martian who is vastly superior in intelligence and spirit.

La falls for Saltner in rather conventional, sentimental circumstances: he saves her life when she falls into a crevasse, and she realises that he has qualities such as courage, selflessness and generosity of spirit which a more logical thinking Martian would lack. La and her girlfriend Se initially play with the humans, making them fall in love to test their reactions. But for Saltner, who interprets these signals within a human framework, her affection is an unexpected gift from the gods. Overcome by the overwhelming sense of awe on board the space station, looking down on his home planet, Saltner gives La a timid kiss. She allows it, but immediately warns him: „Vergiß nicht, daß ich eine Nume bin. […] Die Liebe der Nume macht niemals unfrei.” (A2P 214) They journey to Mars together, but she increasingly withdraws from him, and, when he is required to return to Earth, she stays on Mars.

Saltner doesn’t understand that La makes a clear distinction between the pleasures of love and the independence of the individual. For the Martians, the human concept of love, encompassing both affection and a desire of possession, is equally confusing.

Laßwitz illustrates the possessive nature of human love by introducing a secondary love story: a triangle between Ell, the scientific director of the expedition, Hugo Torm, and his wife Isma, who was Ell’s first love before she married Torm. Ell is torn between using the opportunity to make her ‘his own’ when Torm is declared lost, and his sense of duty towards his friend. Ell renounces his emotions after a difficult inner battle, and Isma always remains faithful to Torm, but there is a strong sense that Martian morals would be more liberal had ‘human virtues’ not proved the stronger.

One could debate whether the triangle is melodramatic or experimental – but the love story between Saltner and La shows possible paths that, in more conventional narratives of the time like Fontane’s Effie Briest (1895), would have scandalized a German readership. William Fisher writes that “Laßwitz seems to have patterned La, like Isma, after the noble female figures of German classical literature, to which he added touches of late nineteenth-century sentimentalism” (Fischer 139/140). I would go even further:

In La, Laßwitz has fashioned a strong female character, superior to any human male, able to live by the principles she chooses, but also willing to question received wisdom if her heart tells her so. After a separation of two years, La returns to Earth in her own luxury cruiser. She has realised that she can’t live without Saltner, but wishes to explore human life before committing herself to the indignities and the burden of terrestrial gravity for good. She and her friend Se dine in Berlin, then visit Ell’s house in Friedau, where they are surprised by a summer thunderstorm. La realizes in the storm that nature gives sensations that the Martians have forgotten. She begins to understand that physical sensations are a necessary part of the human experience, and decides for herself that the Martian way of life is poorer with its rarified tastes. She rescues Saltner from the bureaucratic Martians he has offended, and offers him asylum in the private room on board of her airship. The investigating Martian officer respects the inviolability of her bedroom (marriage in Martian culture being a bonding of equals), which gives Saltner the status of a Martian. From her ‘impregnable’ dress to the sanctuary in her private room, Laßwitz uses sexual imagery rather as a thought-experiment than a simple male fantasy. If, as Müller points out, the highly developed culture of Martians is due to their exclusion of the body (Müller 161), then the terrestrial sensations of gravity, food, rain, even smells and light, are the counterbalance required to lead a complete life.

La’s decides to help Saltner to flee Europe, and, by sharing her Martian technology with the resistance, to give mankind a chance to fight against their suppressors. This is more than simply a message that love conquers all. In contrast to Wells’ artilleryman, who fantasises about an underground life where the men reproduce the human race by being with plenty of women, Laßwitz shows us that an evolved humanity must necessarily also lead to more a mature relationship between the sexes: it “demonstrates the fundamental worth of terrestrial humanity” (Fischer 137)

Laßwitz explores human love in very modern terms of dependence vs. freedom: love becomes a utopian theme, a bond between Martians and humans that gives substance to the possibility of emancipation and equality, as training ground for the mature individual. La explains it to her friend Se in a moving monologue that may be full of pathos but is nevertheless a programmatic statement that underlines Laßwitz’ ability to go beyond the framework of Kantian philosophy:

Die Bestimmung ist nur eine, es ist die der Vernunft im zeitlosen Willen, daß ich sein soll und daß wir das eine, dasselbe Ich sein sollen – das ist die Liebe. Dieser Bestimmung folgen ist Freiheit. Dieser Bestimmung genügen ist Würde (A2P 712, TP 335/336).

Destiny – this is reason within timeless will, that I am to be and that we are to be this one being consisting of two creatures: namely, love. To follow destiny is freedom; to satisfy it is dignity.

5. Reflection

The War of the Worlds sends us on a circular journey: the narrator returns to his house, and re-reads the paper he was working on when the first Martian cylinder landed:

It was a paper on the probable developments of Moral Ideas with the development of the civilising process; and the last sentence was the opening of a prophecy, ‘In about two hundred years,’ I had written, ‘we may expect – ‘ The sentence ended abruptly. (Wells, War of the Worlds, 187)

At the end of the novel, we know what to expect. We may be wiped out by a ruthless enemy, just like the ‘primitive’ races that were wiped out by colonial powers. However, this message, transported by a narrative that so obviously sets out to entertain and terrify its reader, gives us the chance to ignore it. We may escape into fatalism: what good is all ‘development of moral ideas’ if we can’t survive, or if survival is a matter of chance? Or we may put the grim moral of the book down to Wells’ personal situation. After all, as Wells’ biographer Bergonzi pointed out, “the dominant note of his early years was rather a kind of fatalistic pessimism, combined with intellectual scepticism […]. It is, one need hardly add, a typical fin de siecle note.” (Bergonzi 22)

And yet the message seems so full of idealism. Even at the turn of the century, Wells was already campaigning for that ‘conceptual breakthrough’, to which he would devote most of his energies after the First World War.[20] It was clear to Wells that advanced technology wasn’t the same as superior intellectual capacity, a notion that dominated the imperialist ideologies of the Victorian period.[21] Somehow, mankind had to adapt to the material world it had created. How this could be achieved was a question that would exercise him for the rest of his life. Reading The War of the Worlds closely, we can make out the direction his thoughts would take: man would have to abandon his supreme confidence in the future, accept that the evolutionary process would continue, improve through universal education and unite in a league of nations to avoid destruction by the very means he created to establish his power. The odds that Wells was prepared to give us, even before WW I, were not good, though.

Laßwitz was, generally speaking, more optimistic. He held high hopes that there was a way to overcome our “Unfähigkeit, das Ziel zu sehen, dieser Eigensinn, daß die Dinge nicht auch anders gingen” (A2P 286). Writing against the Zeitgeist, he created a vision of a golden age of happiness and peace, if only we would give up our outdated way of thinking. By supplying us with a vantage point from which to view our ‘folly’, he magnified man’s flawed activities and criticized the shortsightedness of his greed. To give an example: when the Martians see the smog over our cities, they ask:

“Woher kommen diese Nebel über Ihren großen Städten?“ [...] „Hauptsächlich von der Verbrennung der Kohle“ [...]. „Aber warum nehmen Sie die Energie nicht direkt von der Sonnenstrahlung? Sie leben ja vom Kapital statt von den Zinsen.“ (A2P 223, TP 98)

„What causes these fogs over your large cities?” […] “Mainly the burning of coal.” […] “But why don’t you take energy directly from the sun-rays? You should not be living on the capital but on the interest instead.”

What is apparent here is Laßwitz’ belief that if only we had the proper insight into things, we would act rationally and do what’s best. The Martians recognize that our inability (or unwillingness) to follow the ethical course of action is a general human trait, on which they comment with the remark: “Ko Bate!” (poor Earthlings).

Laßwitz expounded this view on several levels. In Auf zwei Planeten, Ell explains to La that the humans simply lack the ability to act rationally, that they need help to grow up. The problem, as he sees it, is that humans tend to attach emotional value to simple rational decisions. Religion, Fatherland, and self-preservation are all causes of destructive egoism. Only enlightenment can lead mankind onto a higher level (A2P 451/452).

Focusing on the main shortcomings of the imperialist age, and using the enlightened view of the Martians as a blueprint for our own ethical and moral development, Laßwitz can combine his social criticism with a constructive vision of the remedy that is required. In a brilliant passage written in a style reminiscent of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels or Johann Gottfried Schnabel’ Die Insel Felsenburg, he provides us with a mirror in which we can see what exactly is wrong with our society. In a Martian newspaper, conditions on Earth are described as hair-raising: humans have no concept of justice, honesty and freedom; they are divided and fight constantly. The economic consequences of war lead to squalor, and the population then has to be kept in check by brutal force. Corruption is rife, classes are divided, and the more powerful states do not hesitate to make a massacre of so-called ‘uncivilised’ peoples. The article concludes: “Es sind wilde Tiere, die wir zu bändigen haben (A2P 457).“ (They are wild animals, and we have to tame them)

From this extreme point of view, there isn’t a big difference between ‘Wilde Tiere’ and the image of microbes under a Martian magnifying glass used by Wells. And yet Laßwitz’ and Wells’ reflections are worlds apart. For Laßwitz, the only chance to make headway in the ‘civilizing process’ was to anticipate the future and then strive to be worthy of it. Thus he evokes the idea of an enlightened humanity in combination with the dream of a different way of life made possible by scientific and technological progress. In his essay ‘Über Zukunftsträume’ (1899), he laid the foundation for a different aesthetics. This ‘aesthetics of the future’ was to refute traditional assumptions, to embrace science and technology, and to speak of them in poetic terms. By acknowledging that man’s scientific and technological activity was in fact a paradigm for his ability to progress, his poetic efforts would encourage the reader to make similar efforts on the side of ideas, ethics and morals. The ‘scientific fairy tale’ would thus convey to the reader the new discoveries on a subjective, emotional level: “Es gilt, das neue Naturgefühl persönlich zu gestalten.”[22]

It follows that Laßwitz was never intending to paint the grand utopian state – it is the perfectibility of the individual that he is interested in, to such an extent that his creaking plot, wooden dialogue and lack of characterization, all points of derision for the traditional literary critic, seem all but irrelevant. What he focused on was the noble idea, the fascination with the wonders of science, the opening of the mind in the context of ever-new discoveries of the universe around us, which could not fail but have a ‘civilizing’ effect on us.[23] As mind and organs have evolved to adapt man to his environment, so scientific and technological progress are extensions of this process. The key to further progress is greater and greater understanding and mastery of nature, and a higher level of morality.

One problem remains. Laßwitz’ solution is just too good for the average reader to believe in. It reminds us of the view of mankind that motivates the various series of Star Trek and similar fare. As in Star Trek, different races unite in Auf zwei Planeten, out of idealism, but also out of necessity. As in Star Trek, it is the ‘First Contact’ with a superior race that encourages mankind to end its self-destruction and start raising its sights to the stars. In both instances, though, there is no explanation how this miraculous change might have taken place. The Noumenon has become Phainomenon overnight.[24] All experience tells us that this is wrong. Even the scientific analogy doesn’t hold here – the majority of scientific discoveries are the result of endless tests and constant development. The miraculous conversion of mankind is no longer part of a logical development – it touches the realm of make-belief, the well of a ‘modern mythology’. This is of course what modern Science Fiction has become: a modern mythology, telling its audience that mankind has the potential to radically alter its own development, history, destiny, in short, that it is capable not only of a conceptual, but also a spiritual breakthrough.

6. Conclusion

Writing at a time when Science Fiction hadn’t yet separated from mainstream literature, Wells and Laßwitz established the ground-rules that all subsequent works in this genre would follow. They focus on the opposition between human and non-human, science and nature (Rose 38). They also introduced the key ‘icons’ of the new genre, including the spaceship, ruined landscapes, and monsters (Wolfe 225-227). Reading The War of the Worlds and Auf zwei Planeten today, one is struck by their ability to reflect the dreams and aspirations, fears and nightmares of a world changing at an ever-increasing speed. Wells evokes a keen sense of loss, our reluctance to let go of the world we know (think of the loving care with which he describes the vanishing Victorian world), while Laßwitz welcomes the new age with open arms. Both writers are clear, though, that the social fixities that their contemporaries were taking for granted: class, nation, gender and political power, were to change radically. Both believed that man needed to grow up and be prepared for the fundamental changes that scientific progress would inevitably bring.

One last nagging question remains: Why is The War of the Worlds still so popular while Auf zwei Planeten is relatively unknown? Franz Rottensteiner suggests that it has a lot to do with the culture and language in which these works were published. If Auf zwei Planeten had been published in English, it would be widely recognised today as a classical work of early Science Fiction. But language isn’t the only problem. As a pacifist, anti-authoritarian, democratic and liberal-minded outsider, Laßwitz was ostracized in Wilhelmine Germany. Following a period of relative popularity in the Weimar Republic, the Nazis seized on this critical writer and suppressed any further printing of his work. After the war, the ‘normative’ Anglo-American Science Fiction dominated the market, and by the time that efforts were made to remember his contribution, his labored conventional style and apparent inconsistency prevented a wider audience.[25] In addition, we Germans may still have to come to terms with our utopian heritage. William Fischer makes the point that:

[…] the study of SF in Germany has also been obstructed over a longer period of time by the persistent ideological conservatism and the aesthetic and social elitism of German cultural and intellectual life. (Fischer 11)

Whatever the reason, one must concede that Laßwitz, with his unquestioning faith in the humanizing effects of science and technology, did not anticipate the evil uses that science would be put to in the 20^th Century, abuses in part inspired by his writings.[26] And while opinions about his style vary between ‚turgid’ (Müller 162) to ‚eminently readable’ (Hillegas 157), Auf zwei Planeten remains the classic German Science Fiction novel that few have actually read.

In terms of impact and legacy, Wells has given us one of the most enduring images of Science Fiction, that of first contact with aliens who have evil intentions. With these inhuman and technologically superior attackers, he has fuelled our paranoia, and spurred society to arm itself, to be prepared. There was a peace only to be had on the other side of war, and as much as Wells wished for a utopian, social peace to arrive, he was realist enough to see that mankind required some form of discipline or controlling force to move towards this goal. This is where Laßwitz would have agreed with Wells, but he drew different conclusions, or at least wished that things could be different. For him, the ability to seek knowledge and improve ennobles mankind, provided we employ our knowledge for the right causes. The only cause worthy of our enlightened spirit and our social organisation is the freedom and dignity of the individual.

The problem with Auf zwei Planeten is perhaps that Laßwitz tried too hard. On the one hand, his Martians have developed a tolerant society based on the ideals of reason and humanity. On the other hand, they represent a satirical counterfoil for human behavior. For the modern reader, Wells’ depiction of Martians as monsters is simply easier to grasp. This does not mean, though, that the novel fails to make its mark. Whilst in the Anglo-American realm, it was (just) possible to write Science Fiction and remain within the cultural mainstream, in Germany utopian and fantastic thought was cut off. Utopian thought smacked of socialism, which was brutally suppressed in Wilhelmine Germany. It went against the grain of a society that refused to come to terms with its (belated) industrial revolution until this progress was turned into nationalistic sabre rattle by the ruling elites. People were looking backwards to a simpler time when the tools of progress were not yet idolised. German humanistic education had solidified to create an authoritarian mentality characterised by unquestioning obedience to the Emperor and his power-hungry generals. Laßwitz’ dogged insistence on the potential of the human spirit to rise up against repression, his unwavering faith in the ultimate freedom of the individual, provides a powerful antidote to the dominant Zeitgeist. It is for this reason that Auf zwei Planeten deserves to be regarded as a premier work of Science Fiction.

Laßwitz asked the question that Science Fiction asked throughout the 20^th century: if given the power through scientific progress to do whatever we please, what are we going to do with it? In the new millennium, the question is just as valid: we have survived the ravages of two world wars and the cold war, but the ecological impact of our activities on this planet, once hailed as progress, are now clear for all to see.

Laßwitz and Wells had a shared fate in that the reading public focussed on the sensational aspects of their books, overlooking their attempts to warn mankind of the dangers inherent in the arrogant use of scientific power without the balancing effect of higher ethics. In the end, Wells and Laßwitz stand together in their despair in the face of human blindness: ‘God damn it, I told you so!’ was Wells’ disillusioned parting shot, ‘Ko Bate!’ (poor Earthlings!) Laßwitz’ sigh.

Notes

Works cited