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Family abolition seems like a timely idea — but what are we even abolishing here, anyway? In his series of novels The Dancers at the End of Time , the science fiction author Michael Moorcock described a fantastical historical endgame for the human species, a polymorphously perverse utopia in which everyone — what few individuals still remain on a planet that has for millennia witnessed nothing genuinely new — has the power to remake the world and themselves however they choose.
Ethics, morality, no longer exist: there are only aesthetic standards, good or bad taste. No-one needs anything, people can genuinely change sex or size or even superficially species at the drop of a thought, and no-one need permanently die. In the opening chapters of the first book, the central character, Jherek Carnelian, who is described as one of the few individuals now living who was born naturally rather than being created in some other way , has casual sex with both of his biological parents.
The Dancers at the End of Time describes a world of limitless fantasy and freedom from need. This world also, basically, sucks. No-one can imagine anything new: all they can do is play, pointlessly, with whatever forms have washed up in their world from the past.
Reading Dancers , I am glad to have what I happen to: a young family, who I care for, and work on behalf of. But it gives my life meaning — and it gives me a kind of hope in the future: maybe my kids could be a bit better, a bit happier, than me. Certainly nothing else ever really worked before — I remember feeling utterly superfluous before I became a father.
