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Cloak of Burning Man
Aug. 19th, 2020 07:54 pmIn the March 1972 issue of Analog Science Fiction--Science Fact, Larry Niven had a short story, Cloak of Anarchy, part of his sprawling, thousand-year history of Known Space. I read the story as a kid, then came back to it several times as I appreciated more and more of its meaning.
The story itself centers on an Anarchy Park, a place where almost anything goes. The ever-present copseyes - floating observers that pack a powerful stunner - keep the peace. In theory, anything goes in an anarchy park. You can demonstrate, create art, tear down art, sing, dance, do whatever you want to so long as you don't cross the line into causing harm to another person or the park itself. This works fine until one of the characters in the story figures out how to disable to copseyes.
What happened next is a lesson in human nature as seen by Larry Niven. Disabling the copseyes also had the effect of locking the gates to the park. Everyone is trapped inside. Within hours, power structures form. A group of jocks seizes control of the only water supply. Other groups huddle together for safety or warmth. The story ends with the copseyes being restored and everyone leaving under their watchful gaze.
Like many of Niven's stories, the lesson is ham-handed and brutal "society good, anarchy bad." In general, I agree. But I'm currently read a book, Radical Ritual: How Burning Man Changed the World
by Neil Shister, that makes me think of that story and how it relates to Burning Man.
If you've never been, Burning Man is a place of creation. You, no matter how small, are part of the creation. Some people bring huge artworks, some bring mutant vehicles, some -like your humble narrator - bring stories to tell. Buty we all take part. There is also an amazing amount of pure liberty. Want to walk around naked but for an elaborate brass crown? Go for it. Juggling while reciting Greek poetry? I'd love to see it. Teach a class on cuneiform and let everyone make their own prayer? I'm still pissed I missed that.
But just underneath the surface, churning away, are the copseyes of Burning Man. The Black Rock Rangers, the various police agencies, and the social contract we all agree to without words when entering. Because what strikes me about Burning Man when compared to the Anarchy Parks of Niven's vision is that society forms without compulsion.
We don't need an absence of authority to form societies. We had that happen in 1996. That was the beginning of the rules that created a framework for radical self-expression. Ordinances were put in place to create more safe zones, places where the noise wasn't incessant, rules for mutant vehicles were established and evolved.
But what surprised the organizers was the growth of camps and villages. Camps are easy. Groups would band together to do something; support a mutant vehicle, run a bar, host live music, whatever. These groups would stay in contact all through the year, making plans and assigning jobs. Their growth really, in my opinion, made Burning Man a society. Camps then formed into villages, camps that worked together to make sure that Burners got the maximum interaction with their competent camps.
The organization had nearly nothing to do with this until it became a reality.
While admittedly the Anarchy Park in Cloak of Anarachy was designed for day visits, and Burning Man is a week in an unforgiving desert that will kill you, you can see where Niven almost predicted it.
If only we could get Larry out there.
The story itself centers on an Anarchy Park, a place where almost anything goes. The ever-present copseyes - floating observers that pack a powerful stunner - keep the peace. In theory, anything goes in an anarchy park. You can demonstrate, create art, tear down art, sing, dance, do whatever you want to so long as you don't cross the line into causing harm to another person or the park itself. This works fine until one of the characters in the story figures out how to disable to copseyes.
What happened next is a lesson in human nature as seen by Larry Niven. Disabling the copseyes also had the effect of locking the gates to the park. Everyone is trapped inside. Within hours, power structures form. A group of jocks seizes control of the only water supply. Other groups huddle together for safety or warmth. The story ends with the copseyes being restored and everyone leaving under their watchful gaze.
Like many of Niven's stories, the lesson is ham-handed and brutal "society good, anarchy bad." In general, I agree. But I'm currently read a book, Radical Ritual: How Burning Man Changed the World
by Neil Shister, that makes me think of that story and how it relates to Burning Man.
If you've never been, Burning Man is a place of creation. You, no matter how small, are part of the creation. Some people bring huge artworks, some bring mutant vehicles, some -like your humble narrator - bring stories to tell. Buty we all take part. There is also an amazing amount of pure liberty. Want to walk around naked but for an elaborate brass crown? Go for it. Juggling while reciting Greek poetry? I'd love to see it. Teach a class on cuneiform and let everyone make their own prayer? I'm still pissed I missed that.
But just underneath the surface, churning away, are the copseyes of Burning Man. The Black Rock Rangers, the various police agencies, and the social contract we all agree to without words when entering. Because what strikes me about Burning Man when compared to the Anarchy Parks of Niven's vision is that society forms without compulsion.
We don't need an absence of authority to form societies. We had that happen in 1996. That was the beginning of the rules that created a framework for radical self-expression. Ordinances were put in place to create more safe zones, places where the noise wasn't incessant, rules for mutant vehicles were established and evolved.
But what surprised the organizers was the growth of camps and villages. Camps are easy. Groups would band together to do something; support a mutant vehicle, run a bar, host live music, whatever. These groups would stay in contact all through the year, making plans and assigning jobs. Their growth really, in my opinion, made Burning Man a society. Camps then formed into villages, camps that worked together to make sure that Burners got the maximum interaction with their competent camps.
The organization had nearly nothing to do with this until it became a reality.
While admittedly the Anarchy Park in Cloak of Anarachy was designed for day visits, and Burning Man is a week in an unforgiving desert that will kill you, you can see where Niven almost predicted it.
If only we could get Larry out there.
