KURT VONNEGUT'S NEOCON AMERICA: WAR & SOCIALISM
                  IN PLAYER PIANO
                  by Thomas M. Sipos, managing editor. 
                  [May 1, 2005] 
                    
                    
                   
                   
                    
                   [HollywoodInvestigator.com] 
                        Although released in 1952, Kurt Vonnegut's dystopian Player
                      Piano serves as a satire of modern America. That may not be readily
                      apparent to those who focus only on its theme of technology obsoleting
                      workers.   
                  Seemingly influenced by Fritz
  Lang's Metropolis and foreshadowing The
    Twilight Zone's "The Brian Center at Whipple's," Player
      Piano paints a future America where a technocratic oligarchy has established
  a corporate command economy and cradle-to-grave socialism. The leaders
  think they've created a utopia but the proles disagree.  
One big problem is that advancing
  technology makes more people useless every day. Retraining is no
  answer; even engineers are being replaced by computers. Society has
  become a player piano, creating flawless music without aid of human hands. 
However,
  this Darwinism is not untempered. The useless do not go homeless
  and hungry. On the contrary, everyone's basic needs are met: pre-fabricated
  homes, washers, TV, even national health care. And twelve years of
  free education, which is pretty pointless, as most people graduate to idleness. 
 Well,
  not quite idleness. Those with top test scores enjoy free college,
  then join the ever-diminishing ranks of engineers and managers. They
  run those computers.  
The less-brainy
  majority must choose between the Army or the Reconstruction & Reclamation
  Corps (aka, the Reeks & Wrecks), and begin a life of menial make-work
  rather than real jobs. 
Yes, that
  includes the Army. Wars are primarily fought with machines, so millions
  of soldiers remain idle in the US, training with wooden guns. Only
  those stationed safely abroad are trusted with real guns. 
The less-gifted
  wealthy can go to private college, though I'm not sure what they'd become
  in this meritocratic society.  Perhaps politicians. Player
    Piano's America enjoys complete separation of politics and power. Elections are free, but elected officials are impotent PR shills. The President is a goofy dunderhead whose main job is telling everyone
  how great things are, while publicly "ooooing" and "aaaahing" over the
  engineers' latest computer.  
Despite
  their safety net, men feel useless and miserable because they're paid for
  make-work.  Women feel useless because of all those kitchen appliances,
  and miserable because they're married to losers. (Yeah I know, but
  it's a 1950s book.) With few exceptions (entertainer, athlete, politician),
  it's mostly engineers and managers who enjoy meaningful work and its concomitant
  prestige. They also make more money, but that's not the main gripe
  of the useless majority. Player
    Piano has an anti-materialist theme. Despite calling himself
  a socialist, Vonnegut has written a novel in which national health care
  doesn't bring happiness. 
 How does Player
  Piano parallel modern America? There is the loss of good jobs;
  in the book through technology, in modern America through outsourcing.  
Both Americas
  relegate ever more people to menial, government-subsidized work (Wal-Mart
  reputedly advises employees how to obtain food stamps to supplement their
  paychecks). 
Both Americas
  employ rising police surveillance to fight terrorism, and feel rising suspicion
  toward dissenters. In Player
    Piano, terrorists are also called "saboteurs," the ugliest of obscenities. 
  Alleged saboteurs cannot appeal to a judge. Judges have been replaced
  by computers that analyze precedents and spit out verdicts.  
 Most importantly,
  in Player
    Piano, the centralization of corporate/government power over the economy
  and security forces is a legacy of the last war, which was largely responsible
  for putting engineers and managers in charge of a command economy. It was a big war, fought overseas with drones and nukes and Gamma rays. A real turkey shoot, except for the soldiers attending the high-tech weapons
  during a return fire. Young engineers and managers were exempt from
  combat, their brain power too important to the home front. 
Vonnegut's
  book was doubtless inspired by America's command economy during World War
  Two, but libertarians have long noted that "War
    is the health of the state." Some conservatives may not like
  to hear it, but even "good wars" invariably expand government and diminish
  liberties. Just ask Louis XVI what the American Revolution did for
  his treasury. Thus, true conservatives, like all true patriots, are
  always sceptical of war, and suspicious of those who say we must not question
  or doubt our elected leaders in time of war. 
				  
				
				
				  
				  
				
                
				Player
  Piano's neocons imagine that they've ended history. The last
  war is referred to as the Last War. America's high-tech weapons and
  economy dominate the globe. Yet freedom does not abound, not even
  in the US. "Anti-machine" books are banned for encouraging terrorism,
  the authors risking jail. Indeed, a visiting autocrat, hosted by
  the State Department, mistakes average Americans for slaves. 
Vonnegut
  regards himself as a man of the left, but I've met many libertarians, conservatives,
  and objectivists who admire Vonnegut's work. Libertarians admire him because he's antiwar and distrusts government. Objectivists mostly enjoy his atheism and Bokononist satire of religion. And conservatives discern a patriotic nostalgia
  for small town America in some of his work. While I think that's
  especially true of his short
    stories, I've met one conservative who was taken with Vonnegut's midwestern
  family history in Palm
    Sunday. Ralph Nader has praised
      such "true conservatism," distinguishing it from corporatism or
  empire building.  
With a
  little updating, Player
    Piano would make for a fine film satire of modern America. Vonnegut's
  never been adapted effectively, though he was reportedly pleased with Slaughterhouse-Five. The problem is that his greatest strength is not his plots or characters,
  but his unique authorial voice.  Mother
    Night was adapted with unusual faithfulness to the plot, yet the film
  was dreary and grim, unlike the often hilarious
    book.  
Player
  Piano shouldn't have this problem. It was Vonnegut's first novel,
  his voice still undeveloped and not yet evident, so the book's merits are
  not based on something unfilmable.  
Unfortunately,
  a critique is not a solution. I don't know what can be done about
  the outsourcing of jobs. Socialism breeds poverty, corruption, nepotism,
  and ethnic clashes. Protectionism leads to trade wars, and then,
  say some, to shooting wars. What we have today -- a sort of statist
  crony corporatism? -- produces government favoritism and contracts for
  politically-connected insiders. But even an authentic free market
  would drain good jobs to the lowest foreign bidder. Good for foreign
  workers and consumers, bad for domestic workers.  
Like many
  satirists, Vonnegut is better at identifying and ridiculing a problem than
  in offering a solution. Player
    Piano ends on a pessimistic note. That may be because some problems
  have no solution. 
  
	
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