A World Without Sin: Reconciliatory Fictions In "Serenity"

With each passing day, opposition to our political class and its institutions has started to feel increasingly untenable. Not in that we cannot present viable alternatives, but in that we are so inundated by constant controversy that engaging in any kind of political discussion feels futile. This is by no means a recent phenomenon, but it is certainly best exemplified by our relationship with the "truth" under Trumpism. Both fake news and the spectre of fake news are utilised as tools to confuse narratives and, furthermore, this all takes place within a journalistic sphere that is tired and perhaps even no longer fit for use. News media has now evolved to such a state that a consumer can choose which "truth" to buy into, leaving any search for a true "truth" superfluous. The fictionalising force of journalism, the turning of events and information into a story, has accelerated this evolution, curating fictions designed for informing that stand side-by-side with fictions designed for entertainment. Yet, simultaneously, it provides the means through which these concerns will be resolved. It is in fiction that our own anxieties with fictions can be expressed. Joss Whedon's 2005 sci-fi film, Serenity, the pseudo-finale to his untimely cancelled cowboys-in-space tv series Firefly, then serves as an example of how speculative fiction, particularly genre films, serve as attempted resolutions to unconscious political anxieties.

I want to begin by positing the question, would the space-cowboy's plan work in our own political context? In the film, the protagonists discover the film's "truth": that the dominant, fascist government covered up an experiment which, in their attempts to introduce an airborne sedative to a population, directly lead to the creation of the Reavers, a group of mentally degenerated cannibals and rapists that blight the 'verse. In a multifarious attempt to find justice for the initial victims, to prevent further attempts at this experiment and to expose the dominant government's true nature, the protagonists seek the delivery of a government-exposing tape to a source who will distribute it across the 'verse. The film positions this as the happy ending, clearly implying that once the footage is distributed to its audience, the protagonists intended societal change will occur and the hero's sacrifices will have been justified. This small act of delivery is emblematic of the synoptic, journalistic ideal- of the many holding the few to account. Let's imagine that plan in the context of Trumpism. Would the imagined outrage at the system even manifest? The Trump administration has courted controversy after controversy to the point where only the most politically ardent avoid desensitisation, would Serenity's distributed imagery be capable of shaking and emboldening a populace to action? Could the imagery simply be dismissed as propaganda efforts, as fake news? The film offers a simple premise, that truth yields consequences, yet this has proved, time and again, a myth for real world politics.

The Firefly/Serenity franchise is, in a way, the ideological antithesis of science fiction narratives like Aliens, Starship Troopers, Halo and the like; the myriad of stories which hold the space marine archetype to its core. These, parodic or sincere, cast in its heroes the very fascistic, militaristic qualities that Whedon's libertarian crew deny. The "world without a sin" that Nathan Fillion's Mal distributes to the 'verse is a world without choice and personal liberty and across both the series and, film, the totalitarian government is constantly presented as an impediment against Mal's (and his crew's) self-determination. It is this libertarian perspective that informs not only the film's climax, but also its attempt to reconcile the very illegibility of holding power to account in its political climate.

Serenity then must be read in its post-9/11, Bush-era context, as this shows two things: the first, that Trumpism does not hold a monopoly on post-truth sentiment, and secondly, that the film's narrative works as an effort to placate and ease concerns around truth and authority. This film arrived in the midst of an estrangement with American authority, as 2004, the year preceding the film's release, saw instances like the CIA admission that there was no immediate threat from Iraq and the Killian documents controversy. Serenity absolves its fictional universe of such concerns, presenting a world where the freeing of information will have direct, liberating consequences, rather than sewing further animosity and confusion in a populace. Mal sacrifices information to the fictionalising forces of distribution and relies, totally, on the hope that the fictionalised narrative will elicit change. In our world, the distributed image may not resemble its original at all. But, Serenity, as fiction, and a specifically speculative fiction, is allowed to treat truth as the monolith its audience believes it to be. The Mr. Universe mantra of "You can't stop the signal", proves true and the film's antagonist, the Operative, is pacified and rendered faithless after witnessing the true nature of the government.

Ultimately, this resolution only exists in the film. It did not have any metatextual reaction, it did not reconcile real world concerns with truth and political authority, nor did it impede the rapid degeneration of news media into the even less authoritative state it is in today, but that is more or less the point. It is a fantasy. The resolution works in the film, and can only work in the film, because it presupposes that certain features of our society have clear-cut constants. Particularly, it presupposes that journalism exists as a means to challenge the powerful and that it, both as an industry and as something received by audiences, is devoted to universal, unquestionable truths. The reality, of course, is that journalism has now become as much of a power as that it is meant to challenge, that the pursuit of truth often comes second to a sensational, fictionalising frame and that there is no longer a single, monolithic truth.

Therein lies the necessity of interrogating popular speculative fiction, as, above all, it serves as the way in which people engage with contemporary issues. Not in a meaningful way, as that is the very nature of our predicament, but, for many people, as the only way. Policy is detached so far from our lives that our only hope for reconciliation is to observe, to see it take place through fictional narratives. We can see it in the ever rising prominence of fan activism and the fierce identity wars that rage in fan communities; more and more the political battleground has been shifted away from the intangible phantasms of democracy and bureaucracy and to the more real, more tangible realm of storytelling and fictional world-building. Even engagements that supposedly have more intrinsic meaning, such as the ballot box and the protest, remain similar to popular fiction in a sense, as they are all attempts by people to solve the unsolvable; to gain entry to the political sphere of which they have been denied access.

Popular fiction is far more useful as a lens than it is as a toolbox. Serenity does not provide us with a blueprint or instruction manual to reach the film's idyllic relationship with truth. It does not seek any kind of transformative platform. It exists merely as a struggle to reconcile harsh reality through escapist fiction.