Harris on the rise of the machines

It's high time for a book-themed post – only, unsurprisingly, it won't be about a Nobel Prize winner. It is safe to say that the Nobel Prize Project is languishing somewhat. I gave up on A Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez after only 40 pages (why I lasted the course with Vargas Llosa and not García Márquez I really would not want to speculate). With Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak, I'm doing somewhat better – I've made it 150 pages in, and am just interested enough to keep reading. But it's going slowly, and I find myself starting and finishing far lighter fare in parallel to plodding through Zhivago.

One of the books I had no problem finishing while leaving Zhivago aside was The Fear Index by Robert Harris. This was how badly I wanted a gripping read; although I had made up my mind not to try this Harris offering, I ended up reading it anyway, while inwardly steeling myself.  When I saw on the blurb that the main character was a hedge fund manager, Alex Hoffmann, who is suddenly targeted by an unknown enemy set on pushing his fear buttons, I imagined I knew what kind of story I was in for. I thought Alex would be an arrogant city slicker and the main aim of the novel would be to Teach Him A Lesson. 

Luckily, this enjoyable thriller wasn't the cautionary tale for the rich I had feared it would be. True, it is a bit sniffy about wealth-creation, but the main target is not supposedly greedy individuals (as in, more adept at making money than you or me or Harris), but the potential dangers of artificial intelligence. Alex is not some smooth city type, but rather a socially awkward scientist who's perfecting an algorithm designed to make better market choices than any traders of flesh and blood. It's his business partner Hugo's job to do the smooth-talking while Alex can go on working with his algorithm – only, sometimes he has to show himself and make a suitably brainboxy impression. It's on a day like this, when he's set to present a new and improved algorithm to a bunch of hard-nosed clients, that his life starts spiralling out of control.

Now, generally I'm favourably inclined towards technological advances, especially if they make my life more comfortable. But I'm not above indulging in some mild technophobia if need be – it's preferable to wealth-bashing, anyhow. It was a bit alarming, I must confess, to learn that algorithm-based market trading is apparently A Thing. Hugo complains at one point that the fund's office is full not of tough traders with balls of steel, but of nerdy boffins with dandruff in their hair. For my part, I always imagined market traders to be of the steel-balled, human kind. I've been impatient with the lemming-like tendencies of financial markets to drop and keep dropping at the slightest hint of alarm. Why are city boys so jittery, I've asked myself – can't they exercise some restraint and common sense? If a lot of financial decisions are indeed made by computers following a pre-programmed pattern, it would explain a lot; common sense is hard to program.

Having said that, this is not by any means a realistic thriller, nor is it meant to be. It reminded me of Harris's earlier book Archangel in that it starts off from a premise you can get on board with and then takes it to such lengths that you end up shaking your head in disbelief. All the same, the notion that the same kind of AI that comes up with suggestions for further viewing on your streaming service might one day decide on how your savings are invested is chilling enough to build a paranoia-feeding thriller on. In a way, I'm glad it went over the top, because it has the calming effect of reminding you that this is all fiction. Whatever happens financial-algorithm-wise in the real world, it will never turn out like this. Surely?

Yes, Andor is very good indeed – but what is the Rebellion up to?

I know everyone isn't a fan of the Star Wars TV shows (animated and live-action) airing on Disney+. But I generally like them, and I'll make this bold claim for them: they give you a better understanding of why the Empire had to be defeated. The fact that the Empire randomly blew up a planet (where there was rebellious activity, to be sure, but it was a whole planet) and that their leader is a cackling megalomaniac who believes in channelling hatred and anger may be enough for some, but not for me. Seeing as there are so many cool Empire villains, and I'm not a firm believer in the Jedi code (the Sith code seems much more sensible), I have to be reminded now and again that the Rebellion was actually a good thing. 

The Disney+ shows give me these useful reminders. In The Bad Batch, we see the Empire clamping down on Separatist and Republic planets alike, much to the consternation of the latter, who have been encouraged to see the Empire as the Republic's natural successor. In The Book of Boba Fett, tough guy Cad Bane – who hasn't been above working for Palpatine in his day – reminds the people of a freedom-loving town that Boba Fett is no hero and "worked for the Empire"; even Bane understands that the Empire are the baddies in everyone's eyes, and he may even share a bit of that disdain. In several shows, we see characters who start out in the Empire's employ – Sergeant Kallus in Rebels, Tala in Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mayfeld in The Mandalorian – but become disillusioned and turn against it when they realise just how murderous Palpatine's reign is. This is a particularly good ploy in my opinion. These characters didn't always turn up their noses at the Empire; they were convinced by what they themselves experienced that their employer was evil. 

Meanwhile, the Rebellion is shown doing noble things such as rescuing Force-sensitive children from the clutches of sinister Inquisitors. Surely, though they may be less fun than the Empire character-wise, not even I can question that the rebels are the good guys and needed to win.

And then, Andor comes along.

Now don't get me wrong, Andor is a really good TV series. There's a reason it's been so critically acclaimed. The writing is zingy, the characters are interesting, and we get a different, thrilleresque view of the Star Wars universe. The only complaint I've heard against the show is that some find it "slow", but it's not, at least not in the way House of the Dragon and The Rings of Power are slow. There are always two or three episodes that serve as build-up for action-packed payoffs, but even in these build-up episodes there's no slowing down of the pacy dialogue. Instead of someone saying something weighty, followed by a pause where we see everyone's reaction to it, the lines whip back and forth at a fair lick. After having watched shows like the two I just mentioned, I found this very refreshing. It made me want to check out the Bourne films, also created by Tony Gilroy, and that's not something I've felt a need to do before.

However, for me, one of the show's strengths is also one of its weaknesses. It adds nuance to the black-and-white Star Wars struggle, showing that the rebels are far from squeaky clean and that not everyone who works for the Empire is a monster. But maybe it does a little too good a job of muddying the waters. There were times during this series where I watched the rebels at work and said to myself "Remind me again why I should root for these bastards?". An especially memorable interlude is when a band of rebels, seeking to rob an Imperial station of their workers' payload, hold an Imperial officer's wife and son (who happens to be sick) hostage in order to get away with the loot. When the officer's colleague threatens the rebels and tells them to "let the boy go", he is unceremoniously killed. To cap it all, when the officer complains that "you'll kill us all anyway", the rebel commander, Vel, answers sanctimoniously: "No, that's what you would do." Say what? Did she just try to claim the moral high ground over the guy whose family she's holding at gunpoint? 

This is just one example of the dodgy morals of the Rebellion as presented here. We do still get chilling examples of what the Empire is up to (some of which don't make a lot of sense), and moments that will fuel the revolutionary ardour of anyone, like a desperate prison break (Andy Serkis is killing it as the old lag nearing the end of his sentence who realises that there is, in fact, only "one way out"). But I for one found the message that you have a free pass to be as dastardly as you like if it takes down a greater evil somewhat troubling. 

After all, the rebels of today are the rulers of tomorrow. I wouldn't want the likes of Vel or the shifty rebel leader Luthen anywhere near the executive power of my galaxy. Luthen, at least, knows that he is compromised: Stellan Skarsgård's monologue on the subject is a strong moment (though I'd argue that Luthen has "sacrificed" less than the innocents who have been put at risk by his strategies). But at the end of the day, I can see both Vel and Luthen able to find excuses for using a weapon of mass destruction such as the Death Star themselves if it was in their hands. In which case, how much has the Galaxy gained by them winning?

Questions like these are interesting to dwell on. I like the way Andor, while being very entertaining, also gets me thinking about the ends and means problem. If I'm not such a natural born rebel as Gilroy, it doesn't matter; I don't feel the show is pointing a finger at me and saying "if you don't think what we think, you're dumb". That's worth a lot these days. I will say this, though: the questionable rebel tactics make the Rebellion look very different from the one Luke and Han joined and Leia was already a part of in Star Wars: A New Hope. Andor is a great thriller series, and I highly recommend it as such (not one for the kids, though). But to me, it doesn't quite feel like Star Wars.