Foundation and Empire

“‘Where the stars are scattered thinly,’ quoted Barr, ‘And the cold of space seeps in.’ ‘Is that poetry?’ Riose frowned. Verse seemed frivolous at the moment.”

Barr responds to Riose’s question about magicians who live at the edge of the Galactic Empire and who may pose a threat to Imperial power. His quotation serves as a warning: Those magicians are in fact the technologists of the Foundation; they bring their engineering know-how to the breakaway worlds of the galactic edge, to keep those planets from sinking into barbarism. To the average citizen, and lately to the leaders of the deteriorating central Empire, that technology can seem magical. Barr’s point is that the chill of the darkly distant realms is also a warning of doom for the Empire, a threat that comes violently true in later decades. Riose, a man of action rather than deep thought, misses the implication to his ultimate regret. 

“After all, the essential point in running a risk is that the returns justify it.”

Foundation fleet owner Sennett Forell explains the underlying attitude of a commercial enterprise: that risks must be calculated, and those with the best odds must be undertaken. Such an approach doesn’t always win, but over time it does so more often than not. His rationality is part of what makes the Foundation so coolly effective in collecting more and more planets into its growing empire. In a way, the rational becomes the inevitable, and inevitability is a watchword of the Foundation. 

“Riose’s voice trembled with indignation. ‘You mean that this art of his predicts that I would attack the Foundation and lose such and such a battle for such and such a reason? You are trying to say that I am a silly robot following a predetermined course into destruction.’ ‘No,’ replied the old patrician, sharply. ‘I have already said that the science had nothing to do with individual actions. It is the vaster background that has been foreseen.’”

The central controversy that surrounds the Foundation’s work is whether individuals can change history. Seldon’s research demonstrates that, with enough information, the course of a society’s history can be reckoned well into the future, no matter what its leaders may try to do. The sheer force of the forward motion of a society pulls those leaders and everyone else along with it. No matter what they try, their actions end up supporting the historical trend. This flies in the face of Riose’s intuition that his deeds are independent, and that his choices can alter history. 

“Cleon II was Lord of the Universe. Cleon II also suffered from a painful and undiagnosed ailment. By the queer twists of human affairs, the two statements are not mutually exclusive, nor even particularly incongruous. There have been a wearisomely large number of precedents in history.”

Leadership often relies on myths of personal greatness and invulnerability, and successful leaders soon believe their own press. Like everyone, though, they put their trousers on one leg at a time. It is possible to be a powerful, successful leader and yet still be subject to the suffering of mortals. Cleon faces such an ailment; it makes him grouchy, and perhaps it influences his decisions. The ailment is kept out of the press and away from his subjects’ awareness, lest they discover that he is not a god. 

“‘Get this,’ the Trader spoke forcefully and earnestly, ‘there are five or six fat slobs who usually run an average planet. They get the rabbit punch, but I’m not losing peace of mind over them. See. The people? The ordinary run of guys? Sure, some get killed, and the rest pay extra taxes for a while. But it settles itself out; it runs itself down. And then it’s the old situation again with a different five or six.’”

Wars determine who rules, and for a time the people suffer, but they recover, things go back to normal, and the new rulers look about the same as the old ones. The Trader suggests that none of this matters to him, even if it happens to his own realm, the Foundation. He presents to his interrogators the cynicism of an average person long abused by whoever is currently ruling their world. 

“[…] I would remind you that there is a difference between boldness and blindness. There is a place for a decisive gamble when you know your enemy and can calculate the risks at least roughly; but to move at all against an unknown enemy is boldness in itself. You might as well ask why the same man sprints safely across an obstacle course in the day, and falls over the furniture in his room at night.”

General Riose replies to Imperial secretary Brodrig that, though bold, he is not foolish. Battles must be planned carefully; enough will go wrong during action that it is vital to remove as many variables as possible. To do so is to shine the light of day onto an otherwise dark encounter. To use the language of the metaphor, Riose doesn’t trip over furniture. 

“Assassination isn’t the way out, Devers. I once tried it, under provocation, when I was twenty—but it solved nothing. I removed a villain from Siwenna, but not the Imperial yoke; and it was the Imperial yoke and not the villain that mattered.”

Ducem Barr explains to cellmate Lathan Devers that the main forces of history don’t travel through individuals but surge forward in the actions of millions. He also points out that removing one tyrant from a system of tyranny doesn’t solve the problem, since the system will replace the old ruler with a similar new one. It’s all part of the larger viewpoint of psychohistory, which studies trends rather than individuals. 

“‘Psychohistory or not, they’re terribly strong, and we’re weak. What can Seldon do about it?’ ‘There’s nothing to do. It’s all already done. It’s proceeding now. Because you don’t hear the wheels turning and the gongs beating doesn’t mean it’s any the less certain.’”

It is hard to rely on a process that is inevitable but invisible, like trusting that rescuers are coming even when they are nowhere in sight. Barr understands the theory of psychohistory well enough to comprehend that, despite appearances, the Foundation will escape the current conflict relatively unscathed. Devers, however, wants to see proof and wants to take up arms himself, just to do something for his side. Doing so, however, may make things worse, not better. 

“The gleaming metallic towers that surrounded him and continued onwards in never-ending multiplicity to beyond the horizon oppressed him; the whole busy, unheeding life of a world-metropolis cast him into the horrible gloom of isolation and pygmyish unimportance.”

Trader Lathan Devers feels the spiritual darkness of the Imperial capital, where bureaucracy grinds away constantly, pulverizing whatever lingering freedoms remain among the Empire’s planets. Trantor is the perfection of oppression—smooth, stable, automatic, and unstoppable—and its world-girding steel building, with its 40 billion inhabitants, symbolizes the sheer power and overwhelming domination of the Imperium. It is a sight to depress any freewheeling Trader. 

“There was a dead hand pushing all of us; the mighty general and the great Emperor; my world and your world—the dead hand of Hari Seldon. He knew that a man like Riose would have to fail, since it was his success that brought failure; and the greater the success, the surer the failure.”

Ducem Barr explains to wealthy and influential Foundation citizen Sennett Forell how Seldon’s plan, backed by psychohistory, makes inevitable the success of the Foundation. No matter who challenges the Foundation’s growing empire, they either fail or succeed, and success also leads to failure. General Riose’s battle gains got the attention of the emperor, who realized Riose was now a threat to his rule and had to be eliminated. The Foundation wins again. 

“The laws of history are as absolute as the laws of physics, and if the probabilities of error are greater, it is only because history does not deal with as many humans as physics does atoms, so that individual variations count for more.”

Bayta sums up neatly the reasoning behind psychohistory, which makes predictions strong enough to overcome the noise in the data that arises from human variability. She also demonstrates her sharp mind to in-laws on a Trader planet that doesn’t entirely appreciate the contributions women make to the Foundation. 

“Indbur the Third was a peculiar combination of ersatz characteristics to all but himself. To him, a stilted geometric love of arrangement was ‘system,’ an indefatigable and feverish interest in the pettiest facets of day-to-day bureaucracy was ‘industry,’ indecision when right was ‘caution,’ and blind stubbornness when wrong, ‘determination.’”

The author neatly illustrates the character of a third-generation hereditary ruler with all the bureaucratic tendencies of ingrained rule and none of the brilliance, inspiration, or even cruelty of his predecessors. His case demonstrates the speed at which a government can deteriorate from dynamism to bureaucratic inertia. 

“It is the invariable lesson to humanity that distance in time, and in space as well, lends focus. It is not recorded, incidentally, that the lesson has ever been permanently learned.”

People are often overwhelmed by the intensity of current events. It takes time for those events to take their proper place in the scheme of things. Meanwhile, people focus on the wrong events and make mistakes that history later will point to as the explanation for their failures. 

“‘Were I to use the wits the good Spirits gave me,’ he said, ‘then I would say this lady cannot exist—for what sane man would hold a dream to be reality. Yet rather would I not be sane and lend belief to charmed, enchanted eyes.’”

Magnifico the clown introduces himself to Toran and Bayta as they sunbathe on the shores of planet Haven’s inland sea. He speaks in limpid, Shakespearian tones that suggest more intelligence than most people might suspect in a common street entertainer. He and Bayta bond instantly in friendship. For the strange-looking clown, Bayta’s kind eyes are a rarity. 

“Gratitude is best and most effective when it does not evaporate itself in empty phrases.”

Over-expressing thanks can make a listener suspicious. This observation flows from the mouth of a wisely foolish clown; they hint at the author’s great interest in how people communicate. The way a person talks can speak volumes about their character, and character is an important issue in the Foundation series. 

“Inevitably, he said, ‘What is the meaning of this?’ It is the precise question and the precise wording thereof that has been put to the atmosphere on such occasions by an incredible variety of men since humanity was invented. It is not recorded that it has ever been asked for any purpose other than dignified effect.”

The Foundation’s ruler, Mayor Indbur, uses words to enhance his authority. To an unruly person causing trouble, the words are meant to demean their behavior and establish his superiority. The other person simply must respond with an explanation, which puts them on the defensive. The mayor’s words are simple but effective. They are never pleasant, but they always work. 

“‘You and your bandit father and pirate grandfather have been blood-sucking the Foundation long enough anyway.’ ‘This is treason,’ gabbled Indbur. ‘It certainly is,’ gloated Mis, ‘but what are you going to do about it?’”

Scientist Ebling Mis, no respecter of decorum and especially contemptuous of the despotic mayors who lately occupy the Foundation throne, taunts fussbudget Mayor Indbur with knowledge only Mis possesses about the next Seldon Crisis. Indbur wants to kill Mis for his insolence but cannot, because mishandling a Crisis could be lethal to a mayor. Thus, during the height of Foundation corruption, someone speaks truth to power. 

“It’s true that so far there’s been more drinking than thinking, and more wooing than doing […]”

The author loves to take humorous jabs at the ironic foibles of humans. The conference at Radole stalls because the Trader delegates do not yet have enough information about the Mule’s purpose to know whether to join or oppose him. The result is the classic condition of many conventions, where more recreation gets accomplished than business. 

“He said, ‘Married?’ ‘Yes. We went through the legal formalities.’ Mis paused. Then, ‘Happy about it?’ ‘So far.’”

Bayta’s honest answers to psychologist Ebling Mis’s frank questions reveal a woman of straightforward intelligence, who understands herself and doesn’t fall for the bromides and fantasies most people hold about marriage. She is practical, glad to be connected to her husband, yet not naive about the difficulties of a relationship. Her answers reassure Mis that he is dealing with someone who is likely calm and competent under pressure. 

“Juddee was crying, biting woefully at a moist handkerchief, and choking back sobs until her complexion was blotched with turgid red […] Bayta joined the three girls who were taking turns at the eternally applied and eternally inefficacious remedies of shoulder-patting, hair-smoothing, and incoherent murmuring.”

Sorrow and loss cause tears, and tears cause efforts to comfort the mourner in a classic process that, if it soothes anyone, soothes those who apply the affection. The loss, in this case, is universal: The planet Haven must soon give up its freedom and surrender to a powerful invader. The all-too-human response is grief; the helpless can merely hug one another. 

“[T]he friend of a conqueror is but the last victim […]”

Inchney, ancient ex-lord of the fallen Empire and now servant to Jord Commason of Neotrantor, makes one of the shrewdest comments in a book replete with skillful politicking and chess-like strategizing. As planetary systems fall to the inevitable power of the Mule, they struggle with how to succumb gracefully, and some behave like simpering sycophants. This gets them a short-term reprieve but long-term suffering because they are perceived by the victors as weak and therefore to be treated callously. 

“[…] I have been sitting here and brooding on the fact that with all my cleverness and forethought I could make a mistake, and lose so much.”

Great leaders often rise and fall based on their strengths and weaknesses. The Mule’s tragic flaw isn’t arrogance, the most common weakness of the great; it is love. His entire purpose is to avenge the cruelties visited on him by others by conquering everyone; so focused is he on his plans that he doesn’t realize that his affection for Bayta, the one person who has treated him from the start as a friend, makes him oblivious to the possibility that she might foil his efforts. 

“It isn’t easy to be a freak—to have a mind and an understanding and be a freak. Laughter and cruelty! To be different! To be an outsider!”

The Mule confesses his motivation in conquering the galaxy: He wants to make everyone suffer as he suffered. His is the vengeance of the downtrodden, and his unique mental powers make irresistible the temptation to teach the galaxy a lesson. It is also a form of megalomania, in that, to him, the cruelties visited on him constitute the only important issue in a galaxy of trillions of people.