Stranger in a Strange Land

code which you consciously refuse to obey. All so automatically that you retched . . . and believed thereby-and continue to believe-that your reflex proved that you were 'right' and they were 'wrong.' Faugh! I'd as lief use trial by ordeal as use your stomach to test guilt. All your stomach can reflect are prejudices trained into you before you acquired reason."
                "What about your stomach?"
                "Mine is as stupid as yours-but I don't let it rule my brain. I can at least see the beauty of Mike's attempt to devise an ideal human ethic and applaud his recognition that such a code must be founded on ideal sexual behavior, even though it calls for changes in sexual mores so radical as to frighten most people -- including you. For that I admire him-I should nominate him for the Philosophical Society. Most moral philosophers consciously or unconsciously assume the essential correctness of our cultural sexual code-family, monogamy, continence, the postulate of privacy that troubled you so, restriction of intercourse to the marriage bed, et cetera. Having stipulated our cultural code as a whole, they fiddle with details- even such piffle as solemnly discussing whether or not the female breast is an 'obscene' sight! But mostly they debate how the human animal can be induced or forced to obey this code, blandly ignoring the high probability that the heartaches and tragedies they see all around them originate in the code itself rather than failure to abide by the code.
                "Now comes the Man from Mars, looks at this sacrosanct code-and rejects it in toto. I do not grasp exactly what Mike's sexual code is, but it is clear from what little you told me that it violates the laws of every major nation on Earth and would outrage 'right-thinking' people of every major faith-and most agnostics and atheists, too. And yet this poor boy-"
                "Jubal, I repeat-he's not a boy, he's a man"
                "Is he a 'man?' I wonder. This poor ersatz Martian is saying, by your own report, that sex is a way to be happy together. I go along with Mike this far: sex should be a means of happiness. The worst thing about sex is that we use it to hurt each other. It ought never to hurt; it should bring happiness, or, at the very least, pleasure. There is no good reason why it should ever be anything less.
                "The code says, 'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wif'e'-and the result? Reluctant chastity, adultery, jealousy, bitter family fights, blows and sometimes murder, broken homes and twisted children . . . and furtive, dirty little passes at country club dances and the like, degrading to both man and woman whether consummated or not, Is this injunction ever obeyed? The Commandment not to 'covet' I mean; I'm not referring to any physical act. I wonder. If a man swore to me on a stack of his own Bibles that he had refrained from coveting another man's wife because the code forbade it, I would suspect either self-deception or subnormal sexuality. Any male virile enough to sire a child is almost certainly so virile that he has coveted many, many women-whether he takes action in the matter or not.
                "Now comes Mike and says: 'There's no need for you to covet my wife . . love her! There's no limit to her love, we all have everything to gain-and nothing to lose but fear and guilt and hatred and jealousy.' The proposition is so naive that it's incredible. So far as I recall only precivilization Eskimos were ever this naive-and they were so remote from the rest of us that they almost qualified as 'Men from Mars' themselves. However, we soon gave them our virtues and instead of happy sharing they now have chastity and adultery just like the rest of us-those who survived the transition. I wonder if they gained by it? What do you think,
                "I wouldn't care to be an Eskimo. thank you."
                "Neither would I. Spoiled raw fish makes me bilious."
                "Well, yes-but, Jubal, I had in mind hot water and soap. I guess I'm effete."
                "I'm decadent in that respect, too, Ben; I was born in a house with no more plumbing than an igloo-and I've no wish to repeat my childhood. But I assume that noses hardened to the stink of rotting blubber would not be upset by unwashed human bodies. But nevertheless, despite curious cuisine and pitiful possessions, the Eskimos