Abstract: This chapter argues that Utopia is groundbreaking because it established the notion of ‘imperial settler utopias’ that influence attempted and fantasized manifestations of utopianism. Unlike settler utopias that are isolated and focused on inward development, imperial settler utopias—whether real or fictional—are settler colonies so entranced by their own ideals that they envision themselves as predestined to be dominant on the merit of their superiority. The interaction between fictional and attempted imperial settler utopias is cyclical. More’s Utopia influenced the development of real-world imperial settler utopian colonies and in return these colonies, combined with the legacy of Utopia, contributed to the rise of literary genres that extrapolate on imperial settler colonialism. These rising literary genres, again, continue to feed fantasies of imperialism. This chapter illustrates this cyclical interaction by, first, examining More’s influence on the development of settler colonies that eventually made up the United States. Then, it explains how, in return, the United States’ imperial settler utopian foundations led to the development of science fiction that fantasizes expansion into space as exemplified in Star Trek. These science fiction fantasies, again, affect actual attempts to explore space. This cycle of influence is one of the best examples illustrating More’s remarkable influence on the direction of history and literature since the publication of Utopia.


Abstract: In the current rush to Space ‘colonization,’ a term which moved from Science Fiction to reality in just a few decades, it becomes necessary to (re)define not only the borders of the known ‘world’—which projects itself far beyond the galaxy where we live—but also the lexicon of exploration, invasion, and belonging. The analogies with the ‘conquest’ of the New World—something that, as far as the US is concerned, went down in history under the mythopoeic term ‘Frontier’—are striking. In my essay I intend to deal with the linguistic and cultural implications of the terms used by those who wish or are planning to organize interplanetary travels aimed at taking human beings onto the Red Planet in the next decades. Such projects are based on a shared vision of ‘new worlds’ waiting to be discovered and occupied: therefore, their lexicon is heavily influenced by such a vision, though at international conferences you may happen to meet someone who prefers the more neutral term ‘settlement’ to ‘colony.’ On the opposite side we find ethic environmentalists, the defenders of post- and de-colonial thought, and the supporters of an equitable future. Language, which is never neutral, does, in fact, reveal in its choices and in its prefixes (re-, de-, trans-, inter-, post-, neo-, un-, etc.) what really lies behind these projects. Rarely do they concern the safety of the whole human race or a sustainable use of resources: on the contrary, they are more often driven by economic profit, safety just for a few, and total indifference to ecology and ethics.




Reviewing Julianne Schultz, The Idea of Australia: A Search for the Soul of the Nation, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, 2022, 472 pp., $34.99 (paperback), ISBN: 1760879304





Excerpt: This is a story of hubris, settler colonialism, and waterWalking onto the University of Arizona campus the dissonance of the lawns is instantly and oppressively apparent. In Tucson there are not a lot of lawns; they still appear in some parks, but it is certainly not a prevalent landscaping decision. Grass, however, is perhaps meant to be inviting to incoming first-year students. The green, green grass of home. I begin here as a way of articulating the construction of spaces through water infrastructure as illustrating the imagination of water in a landscape that cannot support the excess of water necessary for that imaginary project. In “Decolonization Is Not a Metaphor,” Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang describe settler colonialism as a process that is different from other forms of colonialism because “settlers come with the intention of making a new home on the land, a homemaking that insists on settler sovereignty over all things in their new domain” (2012, 5). These lush lawns on a land-grant university are a symptom of hundreds of years of violence and domination in which infrastructure plays an integral part. As a non-Indigenous queer white man who has just arrived in Tucson, who is writing on and occupying Yaqui and Tohono O’odham land, it is perhaps not my place to blithely enter a conversation about the long history of pervasive violent extractive practices and logics that still continue around Indigenous water rights. Moreover, as a new transplant to Tucson, I don’t want to be taken in by a desire to assume a sense or right of knowledge that I cannot necessarily possess. However, sometimes the newness of a place can cause forms of estrangement that make certain narratives rise to the surface that illustrate ways ideology works through banality. Tracking shifting examples of climate chaos in different locales illustrates the interlocking localities of the large-scale and wide-ranging effects of anthropocentric climate change.