Victor Saparin’s “The Trial of Tantalus”: A Utopian Depiction of the Khrushchev Thaw Period?

Kexin Deng

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In 1962, “The Trial of Tantalus”, a short story by the Soviet science fiction writer Victor Saparin, was translated into English and published in the US, within an anthology named More Soviet Science Fiction. Born and educated in Moscow, Saparin was a professional journalist and editor of the Soviet popular geographic magazine Around the World, and wrote science fiction short stories throughout the 1950s and 60s. While Sarapin’s work was relatively obscure outside the Soviet Union and has not received much attention in both popular and academic circles, it is valuable in providing us insight into Soviet history, and highlighting the complex relationship between works of fiction and larger political ideas and realities. Through an analysis of Saparain’s story, the historical context of Soviet science fiction and history, and other seminal works of science fiction, I argue that “The Trial of Tantalus” provides a valuable contribution to Soviet science fiction and science fiction as a whole, as it challenges the dichotomy between utopic and dystopic visions. Specifically, “The Trial of Tantalus” challenges common ways of understanding utopianism, showing that it involves not just the act of imagining a perfect society defined by harmony, peace, and equality, but also by hiding dystopian elements that actively exist within it. Saparin’s story does so by shedding light on dystopian elements of Soviet history that are less commonly understood in the popular imagination: including the negative aspect of Soviet aid that shattered non-communist regimes, and the pervasiveness of dictatorships in the election mechanism. Therefore, viewing Saparin’s story in comparison with other notable sci-fi works, such as that by Ursula K. Le Guin, grants us new insights into the significance of the genre of science fiction, in reflecting and critiquing the social and political issues of the time. “The Trial of Tantalus” offers us a new perspective on utopianism and prompts us to consider the potential negative consequences of blindly pursuing a perfect society.

The science fiction plot of the story “The Trial of Tantalus” revolves around the investigation of a virus named Tantalus and its impact on the world, leading to a trial that determines its fate. The story is set in a world where global boundaries have been eliminated and a worldwide organization is working to combat diseases. The main character, Barch, was a past veteran of Biological Defense and visited the “gaol,” a town covered with plastic pavement and dorms made of transparent plastic material, where new varieties of diseases are developed and conquered (Saparin 125). Barch’s investigation was interrupted several times by new troubleshooting missions that took him to different parts of the world, allowing him to witness the devastating effects of the virus on Jamaican sugar cane plantations, elephants in Africa, and on the rapid growth of bamboo in the Pacific (Saparin 132). As Barch delves deeper into the mystery of the Tantalus virus, he discovers that it originated from the Amazon River and developed into ten different forms with unique characteristics due to human activities (Saparin 144). The story reaches its climax during the trial of the virus, where Tantalus is accused of causing widespread damage and wasting resources in quarantine (Saparin 145). Yet the virus is not all harmful, as it has also been found to facilitate the growth of plants, including early-stage sugar cane and bamboo (Saparin 146). During the trial, Karbyshev, the founder of the microbe preserve and a well-known figure, proposes that the virus be sentenced to a life of containment, where it will be studied and kept under strict control until experimentation obtains permanent forms with positive characteristics (Saparin 148). After much deliberation, the verdict is reached with all support and none against, thus the virus is found guilty and locked up for further study (Saparin 148).

The plot of “The Trial of Tantalus” reveals a sense of optimism about utopian beliefs, such as the removal of harmful individuals from society, reflecting Soviet scientific advancements and the slight political reforms that occurred during the Khrushchev Thaw period. This was a brief period of political liberalization in the Soviet Union from 1956 to 1964, marked by a relaxation of censorship, a loosening of restrictions on cultural and intellectual life, and a shift towards a more consumer-oriented economy. This period of political liberalization coincided with space exploration achievements in the USSR, including the launch of the Soviet Union’s first artificial earth satellite in 1957 and Yuri Gagarin’s first entering space in 1961 (Sautkin 121). In this context, “The Trial of Tantalus” reflects certain utopian beliefs, such as removing harmful individuals from society, especially in its depiction of how human beings treat a fictional virus and the natural environment. The narrator conceptualizes the containment of the natural environment, described as chaotic and primeval, through the use of ecological and gardening metaphors. For example, Barch traverses through the environment by placing a “net over a tropical forest” which is “green with a mesh,” keeping the area separate from the outside (Saparin 137). Such a physical barrier suggests that man is capable of controlling nature, which is depicted as “primeval” and dangerous. The explorers from the “Biological Defence” like Barch himself are portrayed as nearly heroic figures, with Barch depicted as “[striding] forward confidently” in spite of the dangerous environment they were in, and even finding this work to be “thrilling” (Saparin 137). Through his attentiveness to such physical barriers and the construction of Barch as a nearly heroic figure, Saparin reflects a sense of optimism about man’s ability to tame and control the natural environment, using scientific technology.

Saparin’s descriptions of human characters and the natural environment reflect a view in the Soviet Union that an ideal state must seek to remove what is deemed as ‘harmful’ to society, as a means of ‘improving’ it. As noted by Amir Weiner, in his conception of a “gardening state theory” – the Soviet state viewed groups and individuals perceived to be hostile in “biological-hygienic term,” where “whether vermin (parazity, vrediteli), pollution (zasoren- ost’), or filth (griaz’), and were subjected to ongoing purification” (1121). Here, Weiner’s notion of “purification” illuminates the significance of Saparin’s descriptions of the natural environment and the virus: where the utopic desire to remove elements that are considered deficient or less than ideal for society is reflected in the removal of harmful viruses in the “Trial of Tantalus” by locking them in a virus “prison,” the “germ gaoler” (128). Saparin’s descriptions of nature reflect a desire and confidence in the ability of human beings to mold society and its perceived harmful elements into an ideal image of prosperity and utopianism. In this light, “The Trial of Tantalus” can be seen as a reflection of utopian ideals in the Soviet state.

However, when we consider the historical context that the Soviet science fiction writers were working under, dystopian undercurrents come to light. In particular, it is important to consider this story in the context of The Soviet Science Fiction Committee, which advocated for science fiction that would strengthen political aspirations by inspiring individuals to contribute towards the Soviet Union’s progress in scientific development (Csicsery-Ronay 340). The Soviet Science Fiction Committee used incentivizing and disincentivizing means to control its writers, one featuring financial reward and occupational honor but a restrictive discourse that obstructs individualism. This control suggests that Saparin’s writing style of portraying dystopian traits under a utopian disguise reflects the tensions at the heart of the Khrushchev Thaw period – where Stalin’s dictatorship was eased, but the nightmare-like control persisted even after his death. As Istvan Csicsery-Ronay observed in “Science Fiction and the Thaw,” incentivizing methods include state-provided financial benefits like “health insurance, pensions, grants and loans, vacations, and lecture fees” (340). Disincentivizing procedures meant that writers’ language was limited to “highly restricted, formalized, and ritualistic official discourse” (340). From this context, we see that authoritarian control remained embedded in the structures of the Soviet state, even in a period of seeming liberalization and the supposed easing of the Stalinist regime.

This understanding of the historical context leads us to be attentive to the portrayal of control in Saparin’s story. Saparin alludes to the lack of freedom in creative expression and control over the subject matter of stories, in the narrative devices and structure of the story.  Saparin structures “The Trial of Tantalus” as a series of diversions for the protagonist, who is constantly diverted to secondary objectives from his original mission of investigating the Tantalus virus, by his supervisors. For example, in the middle of the story, Carey the Biological Defence Chief appoints Barch, the main protagonist, on a new mission of looking into sick elephants in Africa, calling it a “break” from the Tantalus mission, suggesting that Barch goes down there at once (133). These trips are portrayed as diversions away from Barch’s original mission of investigating the Tantalus virus. Through such diversions, Saparin highlights the reality of working as a writer within the Soviet state, where science fiction writers were compelled to engage with political concepts in their writing, rather than write fiction that was set in imaginary worlds. Saparin’s work reveals how such demands were perceived as diversions from sci-fi writing, especially by writers who had to grapple with making their works acceptable under a censorship regime. In fact, there was strict censorship before publication, as Istvan Csicsery-Ronay pointed out that “even the faintest manifestation of originality and individuality might be fatal” (340). These incentivizing and disincentivizing mechanisms worked together to obstruct the individualism of science fiction writers. With this context, Victor Saparin’s work should be seen both as a reflection of utopianism and carrying an undercurrent of dystopianism.

Given these insights, “The Trial of Tantalus” reveals how the presence of utopian ideals masks the totalizing control asserted over writers and other individuals in the Soviet era. This itself is present in the attentiveness to material objects and technological advancement in the story. As previously mentioned: Saparin does portray technological advancement as a means of restricting the chaos and dangers posed by the natural environment. However, the story also uses the material of plastic as a metaphor for the control asserted over individuals and the environment. We can see utopic connotations when Saparin describes “a town of smooth plastic pavement covered with a huge dome of transparent plastic material,” with a detailed examination of its transparent wall of “resilient material, crack-proof and bullet-proof” (Saparin 125). Here, the descriptions of plastic, such that an entire town is shown to possess a “smooth plastic pavement,” demonstrate a sense of order and perfection that lies in contrast with the chaos and unruliness of the natural environment.

However, when read in the context of other works of Soviet science fiction, we can understand how the material of plastic simultaneously serves as a metaphor for control and surveillance, and an implicit critique of Stalinist control. For example, Vladimir Nemtsov’s 1947 short novel “Apparatus SL-1,” a well-known and seminal work of Soviet science fiction, features a character named Omegin who builds a plastic house with “no sharp edges and is stable, stainless, and completely transparent” (qtd. in Schwartz 428). Similar to the transparency and resilience of Saparin’s plastic dome, the plastic over Omegin’s home hints at the pervasive use of surveillance in society, where individuals are constantly watched from outside the dome, or beyond the transparent walls of their home. By noting the similar descriptions of plastic in these two stories, we can see how Saparin uses such descriptions to introduce utopian ideals, where advancements in material science and the construction of plastic objects become a symbol of order in society, while also conveying an underlying fear about surveillance and the possibility of oppressive control over individuals. Matthias Schwartz similarly notes that plastic served as a metaphor for the oppressive and intrusive conditions in the era of late Stalinism, where individuals are “totally observ[ed], control[led], and monitor[ed]” and for scientists in particular, who were once “formerly enthusiastic writers and supporters of the Socialist project, were banished to the Siberian Gulag” (Schwartz 430). Through his descriptions of plastic, Saparin engages with the tensions of utopian visions and such dystopian practices of censorship, surveillance, and isolation. When read in the context of other science-fiction works in this time,  “The Trial of Tantalus” subtly alludes to the presence of and critiques Stalinist control.

Furthermore, “The Trial of Tantalus” advances its subtle critique of Stalinist control and the Soviet state by exploring the dystopian implications of foreign aid, drawing parallels with the historical acts of Soviet Aid to other countries. The story depicts aid as a mechanism to exert control and interfere with other nations’ governments, resulting in subordination and instability. In “The Trial of Tantalus,” Barch and his team flew around the world helping other countries with different problems, namely the damaged sugar plantation of Jamaica, a sick elephant reserve in Africa, and the rapid growth of bamboo in the Pacific region (132-140). While this aid may seem to be a utopic expression of goodwill, Saparin demonstrates how such aid challenges the possibility of an equal partnership between the Soviet states and these other regions. For example, Saparin demonstrates how the Pacific region lacks a sense of agency or participation in the trial or the fate of the Tantalus virus, even when the virus is shown to be beneficial for the growth of crops like bamboo, but is only informed about the outcome when “the announcer broadcast the decision to the world” (148). Such a lack of decision-making suggests that aid to various countries fails to prevent the consolidation of power and the establishment of a top-down sense of control by Soviet states, at the expense of a loss of self-determination and agency by other states. Such a portrayal reflects the fundamental contradictions in actual aid policies by the Soviet Union – for example, the Soviet Union’s aid in authoritarian state building in Vietnam in 1955-1991 parallels the release of a Tantalus virus in the region, where Soviet involvement led to its economic and technological strength, but also became a mechanism to exert control and interfere with other nations’ governments. When studying the relationship between Soviet aid and the stability of countries receiving the aid, Christopher Heurlin demonstrates how Soviet aid enhanced the durability of communist regimes while also shattering non-communist regimes, using various statistical models (970). Therefore, aid in “The Trial of Tantalus” holds dystopian implications when we place the behavior in the Soviet Union’s historical context.

The Soviet Union’s election mechanism, which resembled a dictatorship, is also reflected in the dystopian implications in “The Trial of Tantalus.” The voting system in the Soviet Union allowed for only one candidate and made it difficult for dissenting voices to be heard, where individuals are far more inclined to agree with the collective decision in an unthinking manner, instead of engaging in careful and personal deliberation. In the story, Saparin depicts members of the courtroom engaged in a fevered debate about what to do with the Tantalus virus, one that leads to a sudden proposal to confine all Tantalus viruses in the germ gaol, where “planned experimentation [on these viruses] can replace Nature’s hit-and miss-methods…” (Saparin 148). Such a solution is unanimously accepted, described with a voting procedure where each member of the courtroom “pressed the button on the arm of the chair and the figures changed. The results were 500 for, none against” (Saparin 148) Here, Saparin’s depiction of the trial, especially the quick way that opinions coalesced unanimously around a single figure, serves as a subtle critique of the Soviet election mechanism, pointing out ways that it gave people and their representatives a faint illusion of choice.

This critique is reflected in an examination of the Soviet Union’s voting system by Jerome Gilison, who noted that while the voting mechanism stated that voters could select their preferred candidate’s name and cross out all the others, each ballot contained one name from the “people’s bloc of Communists and non-party members” (815). Dissent was “difficult, at least potentially disadvantageous, and largely ineffectual,” as voters may have feared the dictatorship and dared not to revolt or dissent against the will of powerful leaders (Gilison 815).  Saparin reflects this reality in the trial of the virus, where the wholehearted and unanimous faith in “planned experimentation” demonstrates how the trial fails to serve as a venue for robust and nuanced discussion, but merely reflects and reinforces majority opinion and ignores all other dissenting opinions (Saparin 148). Furthermore, the way that representatives coalesced and agreed with the single opinion of Karbyshev, “the founder of the microbe preserve…a well-known figure and his opinion was respected” (Saparin 148) reflects the dominance of authoritarian-like figures over these election mechanisms. By referring to Karbyshev as the “founder of the microbe preserve,” Saparin constructs Karbyshev as one who imposes order on the chaotic populations of microbes, and even over the discussion and debate between members of the courtroom. Saparin’s depiction of the courtroom’s quick and unanimous agreement with Karbyshev, whose proposal brings a sudden resolution of a very rancorous debate through his intervention, recalls the way that Soviet elections enforced unanimity upon individuals. Therefore, “The Trial of Tantalus” implicitly features a fictional society with institutional flaws such as predetermined elections and the illusion of choice.

From the points above, we have demonstrated that Saparin’s work contributes uniquely to our perceptions of utopian and dystopian concepts, highlighting ways that both are not mutually exclusive. Saparin’s work participates in a larger conversation about the complexities of utopias and dystopias, as apparent when we place his story in the context of acclaimed works of science fiction, such as that of Ursula K. Le Guin. As a major sci-fi writer, Le Guin represents a tradition of politically engaged sci-fi works in the US, one that seeks to embed ambiguity in our conceptions of utopias and dystopias, emphasizing the connections between these two seemingly opposing conceptions of society. Comparing the two authors’ works draws attention to the ways that science fiction works lead to a more complex view of societal structures, and highlights how Saparin’s work is significant in stretching and redefining our understanding of the genre of science fiction itself.

This sense of ambiguity that both writers engage in is especially apparent in Le Guin’s most representative science fiction novel, The Dispossessed. Published in 1974, the full title of the novel “The Dispossessed – An Ambiguous Dystopia” draws attention to the imperfections of a post-revolution utopia, and redefines the concept of a utopia, at large. As Bülent Somay notes: “Utopia for her accordingly becomes a glimpsed and elusive hope founded on a consecutive set of negations and realized by personages who produce and reproduce meanings and purposes… and thereby alter both their environment and themselves” (Somay 36). In other words, a utopian society is not inherently perfect but is fundamentally unstable, and can be destabilized by its own dystopian undercurrents.

Saparin’s story adds to Le Guin’s portrayal of inherent instability and ambiguity by depicting the pursuit of a utopia as an act of continuously reconstructing and re-envisioning societal structures. In particular, Saparin suggests that the quest for utopia cannot end, unless society mistakenly believes that it has already constructed a utopia for itself. Saparin appears to envision a utopian society when the narrator notes that people no longer hold court trials against one another in this constructed world and that the “trial” of the virus was unique and singular. (Saparin 144). The lack of trials in this fictional society may be interpreted as a utopian indication that humans have become so perfect that judgments and punitive measures against criminal activity are no longer needed. However, the need to host a trial of the virus itself suggests that even such a utopian society continues to require a means of removing or dealing with that which is conceived as imperfect, such as the Tantalus virus. Saparin thus highlights a fundamental contradiction in the idea of a utopian society, whereby a perfect society without trials can only be achieved through the removal or trial of what is considered imperfect. Such a conception of society reflects the Trotskyist notion of “permanent revolution,” which Bülent Somay defines as “[the idea that] revolutionary change never ceases, then permanent deconstruction and reconstruction of ourselves… [is] an ever-changing inner mirror, in which self-reflection, as well as self-reflexivity, becomes a real possibility” (244). Somay suggests that the ambiguous structures of utopia and dystopia challenge our views of self.

In conclusion, “The Trial of Tantalus” exemplifies how science fiction is not only a product of imagination but also a reflection of the historical and social contexts in which it is created, revealing fundamental tensions and connections between utopian and dystopian visions of society. While the novel celebrates scientific progress and seems utopic in its setting, it also presents dystopian implications that may be interpreted as a commentary on Soviet history: revealing the Soviet Union to be an ambiguous mix of utopian ideals and deep dystopian undercurrents. While our current context may seem distant from the complexities of Soviet history, “The Trial of Tantalus” resonates deeply in the 2020s, especially with the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic. During this time, many have grappled with the effects of the pandemic: including the pervasive presence of authoritarian regimes and restrictive pandemic controls, while also experiencing technological advancements in the form of medicines and vaccines. In the face of these current challenges, science fiction serves as a medium to reexamine our world and imagine new possibilities: alerting us to the ways that our societies may be inclined towards utopian ideals and dystopian undercurrents in many ways. Ultimately, science fiction reveals the imperfections of our reality and inspires us to imagine a better future and a more equitable world.

Works Cited

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Gilison, Jerome M. “Soviet Elections as a Measure of Dissent: The Missing One Percent.” American Political Science Review, vol. 62, no. 3, 1968, pp. 814–826.

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