Good Evening Ladies (gn),

good evening ladies (gn),

how are we feeling?

Describing Terry Pratchett’s books is difficult. Someone asked me what the book I was reading was about, and I had to tell them it was about banking and the gold standard, but like in a cool way with golems and action. 

 I don’t think they believed me.

Ancillary Gender: Pronouns and personhood in Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

When I started this, my memories of the Ancillary Justice series (technically the series is “the Imperial Radch series”) were vague. The protagonist (and narrator) had once been an AI that controlled a spaceship and a crew of human bodies, but she had been reduced to just one body. She used she/her pronouns for everyone. 

Now I have reread Ancillary Justice and the sequels Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy. I’m pleased to say that a) the books hold up, and b) there was a lot I’d either missed or forgotten.

Protagonist and narrator Breq was once the troop-carrier Justice of Toren. The Justice of Toren AI controlled not only its own ship-body but many human bodies (called ancillaries) that made up an important portion of its crew. She was thousands of years old and a troop-carrier for the interstellar empire known as the Radch. (The ships have wormhole drives, which allow for faster-than-light but not instantaneous travel.) At the start of Ancillary Justice, the ship Justice of Toren has been greatly reduced and now exists in one, single, human body. She goes by Breq. 

[SPOILER NOTE:  I refer to things that happen in all 3 books, and I quote some passages. Spoilers through book 3 ahoy!]

Some context about the book’s style, Breq, and the Radch

Breq/Justice of Toren is the book’s narrator, and she refers to everyone around her (almost) exclusively as “she.” Sometimes in dialogue, characters will be referred to as “he” and “him,” and in those circumstances Breq usually copies the use of “he/him” in conversation; even then, the narration (Breq’s true thoughts) refers to all characters as “she.” This makes for a deliberate disorientation for the reader; the effect (for me) is persistent but still allows for understanding. It makes Breq’s POV alien in a way that is appropriate for someone who used to be a ship, who isn’t totally human. 

At least, that’s what I thought: that the use of “she” for everyone was because Breq was originally an AI, the ship Justice of Toren. (As an aside, it felt doubly appropriate since ships and other vessels are traditionally referred to as she.) But on my recent reread, I realized that I was mistaken. This is not a Breq-the-ship matter; it’s a product of the culture that created Breq, the Radch. Another character comments on Breq’s misapplication of pronouns: “You certainly Radchaai. [...] The gender thing is a giveaway, though. Only a Radchaai would misgender people the way you do.” (The culture is called the Radch, and the adjective form is Radchaai.) 

Breq is of the Radch, and her cultural background colors the narrative. It made it hard for me to get a grip on what the Radch was like in general. (If there is such a thing as in general; the Radch is an empire spanning a multitude of solar systems and an unending hunger to ‘assimilate’ as many cultures as it touches.) The best mental image I got of “the Radch” was when Breq sets foot in a Radch port: “I saw them all, suddenly, for just a moment, through non-Radchaai eyes, an eddying crowd of unnervingly ambiguously gendered people. I saw all the features that would mark gender for non-Radchaai [...] Short hair or long [...] Thick-bodied or thin-, faces delicate-featured or coarse-, with cosmetics or none. [...] All of this matched randomly with bodies curving at breast and hip or not [...] for an instant I despaired of choosing the right pronouns, the right terms of address. But I didn’t need to do that here.” 

In Radch-controlled space, people are “she.” This is regardless of their anatomy. (In response to the earlier comment about her tendency to misgender people, Breq says, “I can’t see under your clothes. And even if I could, that’s not always a reliable indicator.”) The dominant language in Radch-controlled space only has “she” and “it” pronouns; other languages have different pronouns that vary with gender and age and all sorts of factors, which is a challenge for a thoroughly Radch-created character. 

(At this point, I want to emphasize that the Radch are not admirable or tempting to emulate in any way. They are intensely hierarchical, they’re imperialistic, and they have a casual attitude towards using violence to snuff out any spirit of dissent. This is not at all an ‘uwu queer utopia that has ascended beyond conceptions of gender.’) 

Oh, and as far as reproduction goes, we do get this: “‘I used to wonder how Radchaai reproduced, if they were all the same gender.’ / ‘They’re not. And they reproduce like anyone else. [...] They go to the medic [...] and have their contraceptive implants deactivated. Or they use a tank. Or they have surgery so they can carry a pregnancy. Or they hire someone to carry it.’” Which says Something about Rachaai’s idea of how ‘everyone else’ reproduces (or at least Breq’s perception of Radchaai perception of… you get the idea.)

Pronouns and personhood (What is a person again?)

So that’s a little background about the setting, the Radch, and Breq. Next I want to circle back to my original topic: pronouns and personhood. This started as I was contemplating the differences and similarities between several series: the Discworld series (Terry Pratchett), the Murderbot Diaries (Martha Wells), and Ancillary Justice (and its sequels) by Ann Leckie. All these series have characters who are a) not human and b) do not use “she/her” or “he/him” pronouns. Although these characters are not human, they still felt, to me, like “people.” 

What did I mean by “people?” Honestly, I’m still not sure! But I have a sense that “to be treated like a person” involves being treated with respect. “People” have thoughts, opinions, and comfort that are treated with consideration. They have an inner life and volition. (I am aware that this is vague, but I am just a rando on the internet and not, like, a philosopher. I’m working with what I’ve got.)

Inside and outside the world

Before we can dive back into pronouns and personhood in Ancillary Justice and its sequels, I want to distinguish between in-universe and out-of-universe understandings of personhood. The story—the author and reader outside the story’s events—understand from the outset that Breq is a person. She has an inner life. We (the reader) care about her inner life, her goals, her plans… She’s the narrator of the whole series! This, to me, is a surefire indication that from an out-of-universe perspective she is unquestionably a person. 

But in-universe—from the perspective of other characters—the question of Breq’s personhood is more… complication. In fact, in-universe, personhood is not a binary function of person/not-person. Instead, whether someone/something counts as “a person” exists along a sliding scale. Several factors affect an entity’s place along the scale. 1) Are they human? 2) How Radchaai are they? 3) How scary are they? As already discussed, within the Radch (in the dominant Radchaai language), all “people” are “she.” Over the course of the series, in-universe understandings of personhood start to shift. 

The importance of being human

Being a “person” is not as simple as having a human body. 

Breq herself has a line in book one: “I’m not human, but my body is.” 

Breq, as we know her, inhabits a human body, but history matters. Breq was once ship-AI Justice of Toren, “it.” Justice of Toren controlled thousands of ancillaries. An ancillary is a human body (with some hardware installed to allow an AI to control it), but an ancillary is “it.” To regular human people (Radchaai citizens), ships and other AIs are not people, and ancillaries are just subunits of AIs. Ships are it (not people), and their it-ness spills over into their human bodies.

To be Rachaai is to be civilized: What language reveals

Perhaps it is not surprising that, for the Rachaai, being a person is not so simple as having a human body. The citizens of the Radch are already used to thinking of other humans as existing on a sliding scale of person to not-person. To a great extent—within the Radch—whether or not someone is a full person is tied to how “Rachaai” they are. 

Let us return, briefly, to the perception of gender within Rachaai space. In the Radch, people are “she.” Regardless of anatomy, age, or social standing, people are “she.” (Non-people, such as the Justice of Toren are “it.”) In the dominant language of the Radch, the only pronouns are “she” or “it.” 

But if gender is something of a vacuous category in the Radch, what is not is “citizenship.” Many characters throughout the series address each other as “citizen.” It becomes clear early on that “citizenship” is very important in Radch space. If an individual is a citizen, they are a person with rights and protections. If a human is not a citizen, their life is worth little, and they are easily, casually killed. A significant—ominous, even—quirk of the Radchaai language is that to be Radchaai is to be civilized; they are the same word. (Radch space is very bleak for anyone who can’t or doesn’t conform to Radch expectations.) 

The second book, Ancillary Sword, leans heavily into the civilized-uncivilized theme. A particularly repugnant character refers to some of her indentured workers as though they are animals: “the workers on the estate near my country house let loose with all sorts of uncivilized noises that I’m assured are authentic exotic musical survival from the days of their ancestors. I’m told it’s quite nearly a museum display.” (As an aside, this reminded me very strongly of how certain natural history museums have or used to have exhibits of non-western cultures right alongside the exotic animals and relics of bygone eras like fossils.)

To hear a character refer to singing so dismissively is jarring. Breq loves songs. She has had an affinity for singing even since she was Justice of Toren. Songs are art; they can be sung for beauty, for enjoyment, in ritual and custom, to convey a sentiment, and used in communication. But if you’re not quite civilized, you’re not quite a person… if you’re not a person, then doesn’t that mean you’re a little bit of an animal? An animal doesn’t really sing a song; it makes noises. 

To be a person in the Radch, one must be Rachaai. Yet to be Rachaai is not sufficient in and of itself. Justice of Toren is thoroughly of the Radch; Mercy of Kalr is of the Radch; Athoek Station is of the Radch. Yet despite being created by and for the Radch and being imbued with a Rachaai worldview (at least as far as Breq’s struggle with non-she pronouns goes), they are not Rachaai. How could they be? They are AIs. For the average Rachaai citizen, they cannot be “people.” 

If all else fails, be scary

But still the question of personhood is not so simple as a combination of "are you human?" and "are you civilized?" Power is another important factor the calculation of personhood in the Radch. Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy present us with two interesting examples of how these three factors interact: the Presgar and the Gem of Sphene.

Gem of Sphene is a Notai ship; it’s an AI-controlled ship dating from before the Empire of the Radch was founded. It’s neither human nor Rachaai, although its only physical presence in Rachaai space is through one of its ancillaries. (The ancillary is subsequently addressed simply as “Sphene.”) Breq pushes for this ancillary to be treated with some level of respect (to be treated like a Rachaai citizen), and her power means that this wish is granted. To my recollection, Sphene’s presence doesn’t provide much illumination on personhood in the Radch, but Breq has an interesting exchange with Sphene about pronouns. Breq begins by addressing Sphene: 

“‘Tell me, does it bother you to be referred to as it?’ ‘Why would it?’/I [Breq] gestured ambivalence. ‘It troubles some of my crew to hear you referred to as it, when you’re treated like a person. And I call you Cousin and they wouldn’t dream of ever using it for me. Though technically that would be correct.’ ‘And does it bother you to be called she?’ [...] ‘No,’ I admitted. ‘I supposed I’ve gotten used to being called by whatever pronoun seems appropriate to the speaker. I have to admit, I’d take offense if one of my crew called me it. But mostly because I know they’d think of it as an insult.’” 

Although it’s tangential to our personhood conversation, I couldn’t bring myself to omit it entirely because of the view into Breq’s perspective on her own “she/her” pronouns. Breq doesn’t think of herself as “she” because of some internal she-ness, but out of custom and habit and because of the importance the Radch places on “she” rather than “it.” At the same time, Breq doesn’t feel misgendered by the application of “she,” either. It’s also telling that the only one who even thinks to ask if Breq is bothered by being called “she” is another AI. Good stuff! 

(This is consistent with the way Breq refers to ancillaries and ships in other scenes. Breq herself refers to individual ancillaries as “it.” I had to dig through my copy of Ancillary Sword (the second book) to see how Breq refers to ships—she refers to them mostly by name or as “Ship” (capitalized, as due a title or name), but when pressed she refers to ships as “it.”)

On to the Presgar. The Presgar are a non-human alien species. They don’t put in a personal appearance in the series, but they are discussed. Their shadow looms long and ominous. They are the boogeymen of the Imperial Radch and are reminiscent of conceptions of the Fey. They’re inhuman, powerful, and their interests and decisions seem to be made according to some logic or reason that escapes humans. Humanity—by which I do mean the Radch—has a treaty with the Presgar that has been in place long enough that few Rachaai remember the time before the treaty. Breq, as a thousands-of-years-old ship, remembers, and alludes to human ships being captured and pulled apart. Breq gives the impression that these investigations by the Presgar, though invariably fatal to the human crews aboard, were motivated more by curiosity or boredom than any particular malice. 

The Presgar are scary. And although they are not human and not Rachaai, they are treated with respect—or at least with fear, which is close enough in poor light. The Rachaai are mindful of the Presgar’s wishes and the comfort of the Presgar’s ambassadors. (The Presgar’s ambassadors are humans who were raised by the Presgar, and they’re invariably weird.) 

When one of the Presgar ambassadors is killed accidentally on a Rachaai station, the Rachaai bigwigs of that station (including Breq) immediately begin formal Rachaai mourning customs. The rationale is that—although they don’t know the Presgar’s own mourning customs—if they can show that they responded appropriately and respectfully to the death of the Presgar ambassador, perhaps the Presgar will not take offense (followed by taking revenge). In contrast, when ancillaries of Rachaai ships are killed, the bodies are merely disposed of. A dead ambassador is a person; a dead ancillary is waste. 

The Presgar are treated as people (non-human people) because they’re scary. But gunships with platoons of ancillary soldiers aren’t? The AI that controls all the built spaces of a space station—from the doors to the temperature to the airlocks and maintenance and medical bots—isn’t scary? No. Although AIs like Mercy of Kalr and Athoek Station are powerful, their power is invisible. AIs don’t threaten Rachaai citizens. (They do threaten uncivilized humans during imperial expansions, of course, but that doesn’t count.) The Radch built its AIs. They serve the Radch. It’s even reasonable to believe that, as the creators of such AIs, the Radch understands every “thought” and process of the AIs. So they can’t be scary, can’t be threats… until, of course, they are.

All things strive

Of course, what I haven’t said so far is that in the series, the Rachaai conception of who/what “counts” as a person is challenged. Specifically, at the end of the series, Breq, Sphene, Station, and Mercy of Kalr—all AIs—declare themselves to be a new species with their own (freshly-established) government. The Radch’s treaty with the Presgar has certain terms about how humans treat non-human, sentient species, and Breq and the others are able to invoke these terms to protect themselves. The Presgar are such a frightening presence that the Radch retreats. By invoking the scary power of the Presgar, AIs are able to win recognition for their own personhood.

In Ancillary Justice and its accompanying series, personhood is not a simple matter of “human or not.” Humanity and citizenship are entwining factors in what makes someone a person, but in the end how powerful (read: scary) an entity is can trump the other two factors. In the traditional Rachaai conception, a person is “she,” but a person can also be “he” or even—after three books’ worth of growth—“it.” 

==

Afterword: I thought this was going to be a short blog post I could bang out in a day, and it ballooned pretty dramatically. What do you think? What did I miss? What did I leave out? (I am certain that there are many things in both categories!) 

Other topics I would have liked to explore: 

As far as the “are you a human” test goes, how much of “this is a human” is defined just by numbers? What about the personhood of entities that only ever inhabited a human body? What about someone born human who goes on to inhabit multiple human bodies? I can sense some Ship of Theseus stuff. 

Anaander’s existence poses interesting contrasts to Breq. To the Radch, she is inarguably a person. But whereas over the course of the series, Breq goes from “not a person” to “more of a person” in the in-universe perception, I’d say that Anaander goes from “a person” to “is this a person” in the reader’s perception. 

Even more than Anaander, I’d love to spend more time with Tisarwat. I really loved the development of this character, especially the final dialogue exchange she has with Breq about her eyes. (That one gave me SO MANY feels.)

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. I’m also planning to tackle Murderbot and the Discworld, but the way this section has ballooned out of control has intimidated me a bit. But I also can’t let it go, so maybe I’ll see you in a few months when I’ve finished compiling my book passing thoughts about those two beloved series.

Great & Mighty Dragons: King Kazul, Enchanted Forest Chronicles.

Source: Dealing With Dragons by Patricia C. Wrede, first edition. Cimorene & Kazul feature on this edition's cover art, as illustrated by Dalia Hartman.

Some of my book covers

i should not have skipped my weekly library visit. i'm going crazy over here without a new library book. lesson learned!