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Reimagining Science Fiction, from C.S. Lewis, Out of the Silent Planet, Australia: Harper Collins, 2013 edition. 

In our increasingly secular society, the phrase “Christian fiction” probably elicits more discomfort than it does excitement, even for Christians. Often rightfully criticised as clunky and overly tactless in its messaging, the ability to hammer home biblical truths without altogether breaking a good story seems to be a lost art!

Perhaps this is why the work of C.S. Lewis often stands out in my mind. Lewis understood that good stories and allegories are essential in helping people to think about areas of life they would otherwise ignore or take for granted. No clearer illustration of this can be seen than in his frequently overlooked science fiction series, the Ransom Trilogy.

Originally published in 1938, the first instalment, Out of the Silent Planet, depicts Dr. Elwin Ransom’s journey to Malacandra, a fictional version of Mars. Along the way, Lewis delivers a classic story that is in equal parts riveting and theologically rich. Here are just two reflections I took away from Lewis’ book.

1. Not Space, but Heaven

In modern science fiction stories, space is often depicted as a lifeless, empty void, filled only with the occasional asteroid or star. But where did we get this idea from? We might not think about it, but this understanding of space comes from the modern view which sees the universe as a product of chance, a random splattering of matter originating from the Big Bang. And if this is so, then space is ultimately devoid of intelligence or purpose. Sure, it may have some outward beauty, but in the end, it is only crude material.

However, in his book, Lewis argues for a very different understanding of space. Far from being a product of cold, random chance, Ransom’s surroundings are viewed as an “ocean of radiance” with “life pouring in,” always testifying to the majesty of the creator, Maleldil. In fact, Ransom decides that the term “space” is not at all an adequate word to describe what he sees, for it implies that it is all dead room, devoid of intelligence. Instead, Ransom begins to use the phrase “deep heaven,” as what he witnesses is a vibrant place where Maleldil’s presence is recognised and felt deeply.

He had thought it barren: he now saw that it was the womb of worlds, whose blazing and innumerable offspring looked down nightly even upon the earth with so many eyes-and here, with how many more! No: Space was the wrong name. Older thinkers had been wiser when they made it simply the heavens. The heavens which declared the glory.

The parallels are clear. For Lewis, outer space (or as he would call it, deep heaven) is not a lifeless, empty void. Rather, it is a warm and vivid testimony to the majesty of the creator God, much like how the Psalmist speaks of our earthly skies “proclaiming the work of his hands” (Psalm 19). Lewis wants his readers to view the study of astronomy not as a mechanical breakdown of material, but as a spiritual exercise that points back to the creator of the universe.

2. Not progress, but depravity

Another fascinating aspect of Lewis’ work is his depiction of human progress. Generally, secular progress in science and culture is depicted in a positive light within science fiction stories. In fact, popular franchises like Dune often posit religion or religious figures as being responsible for stagnating human progress or leading to abuses in scientific advancements. In contrast, however, Lewis displays a high degree of scepticism towards the fruits of atheistic progress, suggesting that progress without God leads to disastrous consequences.

This can be clearly seen in the character of Weston, whose commitment to the progress of the human race, whilst appearing noble on the outside, disguises a cruel Darwinian streak. When faced with the Oyarsa (chief angel) of Malacandra for charges of murder and theft, Weston defends himself by proposing:

“Life is greater than any system of morality; her claims are absolute. It is not by her dictation that men rule, but by their own. If we are to survive, we must practise the hardest of virtues—ruthlessness.”

In Weston’s view, might makes right. The stomach to do whatever it takes in the pragmatic advancement of human progress is, in his view, a great virtue. Through his depiction of Weston, Lewis critiques the secularisation of academia and government policies in his 20th-century context, which invited horrific developments in eugenics and political ideology in the name of social progress.

Indeed, Lewis’ insights remain piercingly relevant today, in a time where the language of “progress” has been used to justify everything under the sun. From so-called “gender affirming surgeries” to the murder of children in the womb, the “Westons” of our world assure us these atrocities are done in the name of social advancement. In turn, all must approve of these exercises in pragmatism to remain on the “right side of history”. More than ever, Lewis’ work is a timely reminder that the heart of man is sinful, and that any attempts to “make a name for ourselves” (Genesis 11:4) will surely lead to depravity.

The Takeaway

Far from your conventional space operas or robot uprisings, Lewis’ first foray into science fiction proves an exciting and challenging read. Although the book demands a certain level of attention and thoughtfulness, it proves rewarding when approached with patience. With intriguing allegories that double as parables for the real world, Lewis draws us away from a godless vision of secular science and social progress. Readers should close this book with a higher view of God, and a deeper appreciation of his mercies to us.

– Shun Kwong