My Thoughts on the Foundation Trilogy

I just finished reading Isaac Asimov's classic Foundation Trilogy. It is an incredibly strange series in a modern context.

The story spans several hundred years following the Foundation, a society founded by the great Hari Seldon: last Psychohistorian of the dying Galactic Empire. By applying his expertise in the field (a sort of futuristic science that combines math, political science, sociology, among other social sciences), he predicts the immenent collapse of the Empire, which through the laws of Psychohistory will be followed by 30,000 years of "barbarism" before a second Galatic Empire rises to take its place. In order to shorten the length of this "Interregnum", he establishes two "Foundations" on "opposite sides of the galaxy." By strategically placing these foundations in both time and space according to his psychohistoric equations, he aims to provide the conditions necessary for the Foundation to form the seed of a new galactic empire in merely 1,000 years time.

It is an incredible premise, probably lessened by my quick retelling of it, and it provides the backdrop for what many consider to be one of the greatest stories in science fiction of all time. With such lofty prestige, some might expect the story to be almost prophetic in its predictions of the future, for isn't that what science fiction is about? However, upon reading the series, it is clear that is not the case.

In fact, it has aged extremely poorly. This isn't to say that this makes it bad, but it is very clearly the future viewed through the lens of the 1940s/50s. There's the obvious things: people still smoke; it perpetuates gender stereotypes; certain technologies don't make sense; although there is some form of intergalactic communication network, people within a planet don't seem as connected as you would expect a society that has some Internet-equivalent. Even the series central driving force: that the course of humanity could be predicted with astonishing mathematical rigor across millenium through the science of Psychohistory, a bastard combination of mathematics, sociology, political science, and probably every social science imaginable, is incredibly unrealistic in modern standards.

What hasn't aged poorly, however, are the ideas present throughout the series. Asimov essentially provides a view into a future history, and what he misses with his 1900s-esque view of the world he gains back from the fundamental humanity of it all: although technologies change, and societies alter--human nature roughly stays the same. It is this fundamental observation of human nature: that while individuals are chaotic, mobs are predictable, which characterizes the work and makes it timeless, even if the particulars of the world or psychohistory are incredibly unrealistic.

And even though I mention that the books have an incredible amount of "humanity", that doesn't even necessarily mean that the characters are all that great. In fact, they are one of the greatest criticisms of Asimov's work. Even Paul Krugman's introduction in the introduction for the edition I read referred to them as "cardboard cutouts," and often times it was clear to me that the characters were just saying what Asimov was trying to say.

That isn't to say, however, that all the characters are bad. In fact, I greatly enjoyed reading about many of them, and there are a few that stand out (my favorites ironically being the only two female POV characters, Arkady Darell and Bayta Darell). But it is to say that they are not the strength, and there are times where that seriously shows. But the fact that this fatal criticsm of "cardboard cutouts" isn't enough to make the books bad just shows how impactful the ideas are in these books. And that is Asimov's true strength: the ideas. You read a Brandon Sanderson book for an amazing world and plot. You read a classic if you want incredibly in-depth characters and emotions. You read an Isaac Asimov book if you want to ponder some incredibly deep questions. (And be entertained in the process. Seriously, the amount of twists in these books is actually crazy. The final line of the entire series still stands out in my mind).

There's definitely a lot more to say about this series, and I doubt I'm original in any of the ideas I've talked about here, but there is one final thing I wanted to mention, namely about the ending of the trilogy. So if you don't want to get spoiled I would recommend you stop reading now, as I've already made my main point about the series as a whole. And it probably won't make too much sense unless you've read the series, or know enough about where it goes.

I was actually incredibly torn by the ending of the final book, although it was undoubtably good, and I think it can be summarized by a quote from one of the main characters in the second half of the book. The quote goes like this:

For fifty years, we've known that the Second Foundation is the real descendent and pupil of Seldonian mathematics. What that means, and you know that, too, is that nothing in the Galaxy happens which does not play a part in their reckoning. To us, all life is a series of accidents, to be met with by improvisations To them, all life is purposive and should be met by precalculation

I empathized with Dr. Toran Darell in his struggle against the Second Foundation and their attempts to fulfill the Seldon Plan, which was incredible because I had spent the previous 2.5 books rooting for the Seldon Plan and was excitedly reading to see how it would all play out. When the Seldon Plan was an idea, based on the truths of mathematics and science, and aimed at reducing human misery and suffering, it was incredibly powerful. But after seeing the methods that the Second Foundation used--essentially the same as the Mule, if not in intention--it really soured me to their cause. Would it all be worth it, if it came at the cost of controlling one's own destiny? Even if those who held the power in the shadows truly had all of our best interests at heart? Or could they even possibly have our best interests at heart if all of their actions were aimed at some inanimate point in the future 700 years from now?

It's an impossible question to answer, even in the bounds of a fictional series. Which is why, I imagine, Foundation persists in its popularity to this day, despite all of its well-enumerated flaws.