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The (First) Final Frontier: The Enduring Appeal of Star Trek and The Moral Imagination
One of the things that has been keeping me sane in (solitary) lockdown is movie nights with my friends. With two close guy friends from high school, in particular, I have a weekly date for a movie at 8 p.m. EST (1 a.m. GMT) and this week it was my turn to pick the film. I had given the selection a fair bit of thought ahead of time, and presented them with a few options that I thought would be fun to watch; we settled on Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.
One of my friends had never seen any Star Trek property, and the other had only seen the new films, although his dad had been pressuring him to try the older ones. At the end of the film, they were so taken by what we had watched that it was decided we are going to Zoom again to watch an episode of The Original Series (any of my selection) and Star Trek III: The Search for Spock on Friday.* Such an enthusiastic response left me wondering, what exactly is the magic of the original films and show?
I am not much of a sci-fi fan and tend to be picky about TV because I don’t watch particularly much, so it surprised even me how much I enjoyed TOS the first time I watched it in high school. Although I’ve dabbled in the other properties, none of them ever provoked the lasting affection or interest that the ‘66 series and its movies did for me. Likewise, the friend that had seen the new J.J. Abrams films had never bothered with the originals because, though he thought the new movies were good, he didn’t think they were special.
At its core, I think that the most outstanding part of the films and show is their fundamentally conservative message and embrace of the moral imagination. By a conservative message I don’t mean that TOS subscribed to the economic principles of Milton Friedman or celebrated the thought of Russell Kirk, but that, within the framework of a quite progressive society, it had surprising fidelity to some very Burkean ideals and ideas about man and his nature.
Part of what brings this message to the forefront is the setting of the show. A lack of physical money and the presence of the United Federation of Planets, among other things, suggests to viewers that the crew of the Enterprise hails from a post-scarcity system, something some fans describe as a “utopia.” They, though, have escaped the utopia and traded the sure and steady for danger and adventure. As much as anything, Captain James T. Kirk is a cowboy, setting off for brave new worlds armed with a phaser and a set of quite traditional principles (duty, honor, honesty, etc.) that he intends for both himself and those under his leadership to live by. Such an openly paternal, though not condescending, figure might find little affection among critics today.
And the crew of the ship is as much bound by personal fealty and love as shared ideals. Indeed, it is the true diversity of viewpoints resident on the vessel, especially among the three main characters (headstrong Kirk, logical Spock, and compassionate McCoy), that allows it to operate as smoothly and successfully as it does. I’ve always thought the conception of the triumvirate as the divided parts of a whole both beautiful and valid, and the idea of the divvied up heart, mind, and soul speaks to a view of man as a creature that needs more than reason to thrive, and at the same time benefits from control and strong moorings.
Those relationships form the most obvious manifestation of that conservative message, showing that even hundreds of years in the future, in space, and among aliens, the fundamental need of man for love and companionship has not perished (very Burkean, indeed). Each man judges the other for his actions and ideals, not his position on the ship or status as a part of a particular race (much as McCoy antagonizes Spock for his duel heritage, he extends the same fierce protectiveness and exasperated affection to the alien, albeit with a different flavor, as he does to Kirk), and they are improved by their tripartite bond. Purely as a viewer, this evolving, complex relationship is the most compelling part of the series, a high wire act of mutual love, annoyance, fear, and hope that becomes its narrative and emotional core.
I think it’s instructive to explore one episode for an example of the holistic reality of this message. Take “The Empath,” from Season 3. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy encounter and are imprisoned by a race of science-oriented, emotionless humanoids on a dying planet, and, after a series of failed escape attempts and injury at the hands of their captors, the captain must choose which of his two officers will undergo an “experiment” that has a high chance of rendering him either dead or insane. The morality play that ensues, both between McCoy and his superiors and Kirk and the Vians, would be, at its fundamental level, as at home in Shakespeare as in outer space. In other words, “human” nature, across species and time, never fails to assert itself, and the moral quandaries which plagued Elizabethan noblemen do likewise to 23rd-century space officers, their answers coming from a similarly ancient source.
Certainly, there is much to make fun of in the original Star Trek series. William Shatner’s sometimes hammy acting, and seemingly pathological need to be shirtless at least once an episode, aliens that look curiously like small dogs donning party store horns, Leonard Nimoy’s heavy eyeshadow, and Kirk-fu all strike a less-than-serious chord and render some parts of the series basically unwatchable, but its fundamental message, skillfully conveyed in so many aspects, makes it a special cultural product despite these shortcomings. The magic of Star Trek is in the world that it builds, full of fresh possibilities and diverse, full characters who encounter the inevitable challenges of every human life with all of their flaws and triumph and fail.
*Update: We watched The Search for Spock and, after some negotiation, an episode of TOS, “The Enemy Within,” last night/this morning (there’s a time difference between us and it was 5:30 a.m. by the time I got off the call), and I am happy to report that all enjoyed the movie and the show, and we learned the valuable life lesson that you can tell the evil product of a transporter accident by the (frankly unsightly) amount of eyeliner he is wearing.
Published in General
This and Conscience of the King have become two of my favorite episodes as I have gotten older.
That is an excellent episode, I think Balance of Terror is as well (who doesn’t love Spock’s dad, the Romulan commander?). It shines on a variety of levels, particularly because for once Shatner is reigning in the over acting, but especially seeing how different cultural values shape life and death decisions. The commander is similar to Kirk in many ways (devoted to his crew, skilled in combat, well read, etc.) and deeply tired of war, but ultimately choses to destroy himself because he can see no honorable alternative. For me, one of the most well written and wrenching moments in the entire series is when the Romulan commander sends the centurion’s body out with other debris in a last ditch effort to defeat The Enterprise. It’s clear just from the little we see of them that the centurion is dear to him, much in the way McCoy and Spock are to Kirk, as an advisor and a friend (particularly special because of how common backstabbing and power moves are in the Romulan military and politics), and he does everything he can even after he is hurt to protect and sooth him, but ends up shooting him into space like so much trash, with clear pain. It’s not a big or verbose moment, but I love what a depth of emotion and history so few words and only a handful of actions can convey.
A bit of trivia on The Trouble with Tribbles.
Robert Heinlein created a tribble-like creature called “flat cats” in his book The Rolling Stones (1951). According to Wikipedia, the producers noticed a similarity and asked Heinlein for permission to use the concept. He agreed and did not ask for compensation.
He told Starfleet, “Oops, my bad.” His remorse was genuine, so they let him off the hook . . .
There were a lot of good lines in TOS. A few of my favorites:
1. From “The Trouble With Tribbles:
Spock(to Cyrano Jones): “You must have realized that by removing the tribbles from their predator-filled environment you would put them in a situation where their natural multiplicative proclivities would have no restraining factor”
Cyrano Jones: “Well of course I….What did you say!!!???
2. From “I, Mudd”
Spock(to Harry Mudd): “ You went to considerable trouble and effort to bring a starship here. Logically, therefore, you must have a compelling motive.”
Harry Mudd(gleefully): “Mr. Spock, you’re going to love it here! You know they all talk just the way you do!
3. From “Bread and Circuses”(LOVE this)
McCoy: “Just ONCE I’d like to beam down to a planet in the middle of a crowd and proclaim: ‘Behold! I am the Archangel Gabriel!’”
I appreciate the humor! With respect to Spock, “Amok Time” is a fascinating episode and one of the best of the original series. Spock is only so “tightly wound” because the state of pon farr is a natural state that occurs periodically for Vulcan males. It is so powerful that it even overpowers Spock’s reason, making him do things he would never do in his normal state. There is no sin here, since sin requires the acquiescence of a free will. A drunk driver sins by getting so drunk he kills someone, but even if Cary Grant had killed someone by driving drunk in North by Northwest, it would not have been a sin since he was forced to drink by men intent on killing him. Similarly, Spock does not sin in “Amok Time” since it is nature that has taken his reason from him (temporarily).
I did not intend to imply the that Kirk, Spock, and McCoy are paragons in our (Christian) terms. I’m arguing that within the terms of Star Trek they are paragons, because sin doesn’t exist in their universe. With respect to Kirk, in the Star Trek universe it is implied that they have perfected sex without consequences. There is no indication that Kirk has fathered children everywhere. Remember this series came out shortly after The Pill came into widespread use, and it reflects the secular dream of a world where sex is entirely severed from reproduction. Presumably The Federation has perfected birth control. So Kirk can hound dog all over the galaxy and still be a model of male virtue. What a world!
McCoy is the archetype of the progressive superego. If he goes wrong, it’s only because he cares too much. And who can blame him for that?
You all should read Lewis Pearson’s essay in Science Fiction and the Abolition of Man. About Plato and Vulcans and stuff. It’s very good.
J Climacus (View Comment):
Sisyphus (hears Xi laughing) (View Comment):
Kirk, populating the galaxy with fatherless children. And what wouldn’t he do to remain in command? Hardly sinless, except by the bankrupt standards of the “Enlightenment”.
McCoy, flying off the handle at almost every provocation and hints of a problem with the bottle. Maybe the mouthiness is a sign of a hangover. And, of course, divorced. Not exactly sinless.
Spock, wrapped so tightly that every seven years he goes nuts and mutinies so that he can get a little.
I appreciate the humor! With respect to Spock, “Amok Time” is a fascinating episode and one of the best of the original series. Spock is only so “tightly wound” because the state of pon farr is a natural state that occurs periodically for Vulcan males. It is so powerful that it even overpowers Spock’s reason, making him do things he would never do in his normal state. There is no sin here, since sin requires the acquiescence of a free will. A drunk driver sins by getting so drunk he kills someone, but even if Cary Grant had killed someone by driving drunk in North by Northwest, it would not have been a sin since he was forced to drink by men intent on killing him. Similarly, Spock does not sin in “Amok Time” since it is nature that has taken his reason from him (temporarily).
I did not intend to imply the that Kirk, Spock, and McCoy are paragons in our (Christian) terms. I’m arguing that within the terms of Star Trek they are paragons, because sin doesn’t exist in their universe. With respect to Kirk, in the Star Trek universe it is implied that they have perfected sex without consequences. There is no indication that Kirk has fathered children everywhere. Remember this series came out shortly after The Pill came into widespread use, and it reflects the secular dream of a world where sex is entirely severed from reproduction. Presumably The Federation has perfected birth control. So Kirk can hound dog all over the galaxy and still be a model of male virtue.
McCoy is the archetype of the progressive superego. If he goes wrong, it’s only because he cares too much. And who can blame him for that?
It may be interesting/instructive to compare the implicit values of the Federation, which are like a sixties (in the explicit anti-racism, etc) take on certain parts of the Enlightenment, with those of their opponents and allies, which look to fall into more traditional molds. The Klingons and the Romulans seem to have embraced a certain kind of Spartan lifestyle and code, while the Vulcans operate on a form of Stoicism. It kind of makes me wonder what exactly the writers had in mind with Kholinar, if they equated it with similarly ancient ideals, or (with the disciples, robes, etc) it was a misunderstanding of monasticism as a retreat from the world and emotions.
No money, no recompense. Although I do seem to remember that he had to steal his next ride.
The Federation wasn’t sinless. It was sanitized, especially Star Fleet. Star Fleet and all the planets colonized by human beings represented the prevalence of the Judeo-Christian moral view. Sort of like America’s Greatest Generation. But sin still existed. Take Harry Mudd, the husband of the salt creature in The Man Trap, and Redjack. There are others I’m sure. But yes, Star Trek took Truth, Justice and the American Way to the stars.
That’s what I liked so much about it, it’s optimistic nobility. Spock once, when trying to regain control his emotions said in agony something like: I am a Star Fleet officer! That’s when I realized that these weren’t cowboys or astronauts, they were knights. And this wasn’t Wagon Train to the Stars, but Space Camelot.
There are bad people in Star Trek, but sin implies more than merely the existence of bad people. Sin traces the source of that badness to rebellion before God, a rebellion that ultimately includes all of us and so can’t be cured merely by good people straightening things out. The good people are themselves infected by sin, and so absent repentance and submission to the grace of God, the well-intentioned efforts of the good guys will inevitably end up failing or making things worse. This is why the Enlightenment project ends up in the gulag or our currently self-destructing culture of materialist narcissism.
Medieval knights existed in a complex web of obligations, vows, and duties with God at the center. This was characteristic of medieval culture in general. It’s hard for us today to grasp the religious awareness of people then. It was a God-saturated culture, whereas we live in a God-absent culture (or perhaps in Walker Percy’s trenchant phrase, a “Christ haunted” culture).
Star Trek is a God absent culture, but one in which it all works out because the good guys really can make everything work by straightening out the bad guys. This is the Enlightenment vision, and when I say it is compelling I’m not being flip. The original Enlightenment optimism, the taking hold of yourself, “man coming into his maturity” and throwing off myths and superstitions, I find invigorating and attractive. I loved watching Star Trek in syndication back in the 70’s. The optimism is infectious but it is, unfortunately, a “glittering vice” in St. Augustine’s memorable phrase.
Yes, but it’s close. Gene R. and Majel Barrett were not Christians, Buddhists I think. But they knew their audience. If anything God was the hidden God. I didn’t like, but appreciated the cultural hat tip to God when Kirk said (I belive to Adonis) Ourrr, one god … is sufficient.
Balance of Terror is my favorite episode.
Ulhura also makes an overt reference to God at the end of “Bread and Circuses” late in Season 2.
Not just to God, but the Son of God.
Martin Luther King loved Star Trek.
Talked Nichelle Nichols into not leaving the show.
I have a post that talks about Nichelle Nichols and her contribution to American society. The first interracial kiss on American television was done between her and Kirk. Kind of a big deal at the time.
Like alot of art Star Trek has been more comfortable dealing with core greek mythological rather than Christian themes. Q is Poseidon to Picard’s Odysseus and so on. Their universe to the contrary is god-overpopulated.
But why is Christian fairness all-present? Being racist to Klingons is nonsense. Being compassionate to the poor is a very important part of who they are and everyone deserves a fair trial. It is incredibly Christian without Christ.
Tom Holland has a book out on this. Western secular humanists often model Christian precepts without being even close to able to approach them intellectualy or recognize their debt to christianity. One way to look at star trek then is as a set of stories about post-Christians exploring a pre-Christian universe.
Watching Picard, the lead character went from place to place playing an Anglican atheist in full righteous high dudgeon demanding adherence to principles he could never defend because the word God can never pass his lips. The perfect end to opus.
I don’t know all this Christian stuff. But I am a TGN nerd. Picard knew, he absolutely knew, that Data should be respected. And he did respect Data in everyway that mattered in TNG.
No argument. And from a Christian point of view I see two questions.
The worst outcome is time spent explaining Christ to a soulless automaton.
From Picard’s view, he has duties to Data as a former subordinate and crew member including according him the same dignity and courtesies. I was not arguing that Picard was bad, just that he is unable to defend his principles are the character has been portrayed.
Yeah, David Gerrold mentioned Heinlein and a children’s book called Pigs is Pigs as influences on the story in his book about his involvment with the show.
One of my favorite scenes in TV science fiction is from the original Battlestar Galactica, when the bad guy is about to destory Galactica, the last battlestar and mankind’s last hope for survival. Who said a robot can’t play straight man in a comedy sketch? Enjoy:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pfJaDwB9M0
I was watching this with my roommate, and when the cylon uttered that line, we busted out laughing and couldn’t stop for several minutes. The writers had to know it was hysterically funny . . .
Indeed. I learned yesterday, after 30 years of marriage, that Mrs. C had read Gerrold’s book when it came out. What took so long for this conversation to take place?
And the pigs in Pigs is Pigs are guinea pigs.
A friend got that book for me senior year of high school as a Christmas present (well, more accurately, his dad found he had two copies from 1973 and offered to let him take one). I’m not normally much for inside Hollywood/tv books, but it’s fun. Apparently part of the reason one of my friends wanted us to watch Star Trek in the first place is because they talked about Leonard Nimoy and his memoirs in his psych elective, something to do with identity issues and disorders.