Five decades ago, I
was at the perfect age. Almost sixteen, pumped with eagerness for science and
fiction and outer space and dreams of escaping the dreary prisons of home and high
school. And suddenly on the dreary wasteland of TV, in vivid color, appeared
something completely unlike anything we ever saw before. Star Trek.
Oh, there had
been science fiction. A couple of years earlier, my friends and I were hauled
into the Jr. High Vice Principal’s office for circulating a petition to bring
back The Twilight Zone. Though most
of us thought it never quite matched the best episodes of Outer Limits. (Of course, when O.L. sucked, it really sucked.)
But Star Trek
was something else, something new. It lifted, surprised, challenged and offered
hope. Amid the ructions of that awful decade – from Vietnam to civil rights to
riots and assassinations – here was the notion that hope was conceivable. That
(shoo-be-do) things were going to be all right.
On Trek’s 50th
anniversary, I could go on with personal stories (like one sadly
typical-amusing story where Caltech freshmen abandoned a dance – with real
girls – to watch an episode). Or talk about optimism,
which all but a few other films or shows (e.g. Stargate) avoid out of
primitive reflex. (See my article, The Idiot Plot.)
But no. The
airwaves, netwaves and blogosphere has plenty of that stuff. Instead, I want to talk about the Enterprise…
the underlying meaning of that ship.
There have been many comparisons between Star Trek and its chief competitor for
the hearts of science fiction fandom -- Star
Wars. A contrast that illuminates
two very different views of fiction, civilization, and at the meaning of a
hero.
Here’s one way
of looking at the underlying implications of these two sci fi universes. Consider the choice of which kinds of ship are featured in each series. Let me invite you to ponder, for a moment,
and contrast the Air Force metaphor
vs. one that hearkens up images of the Navy.
In Star Wars,
the ships that matter are little fighter planes. Series creator George Lucas made liberal use
of filmed dogfight footage, from both world wars, in some cases borrowing
maneuvers like banking slipstream turns, down to the last detail. The heroic
image in this case is the solitary pilot, perhaps assisted by his loyal gunner
-- or wookie or droid -- companion. It is the modern version of knight and
squire. Symbols as old as Achilles.
In contrast,
the federation starship in Trek is
vastly bigger, more complex, a veritable city cruising through space. Its
captain hero is not only a warrior-knight, but also part scientist and part
diplomat, a plenipotentiary representative of his civilization and father
figure to his crew... any one of whom
may suddenly become an essential
character, during the very next adventure. While the captain’s brilliance
and courage are always key elements, so will be the skill and pluck of one or
more crewmen and women. People who are
much closer to average -- like you or me -- yet essential helpers, nonetheless.
And possibly even -- when it is their turn -- heroes, themselves.
The naval metaphor
makes a crucial difference. Like Cook’s Endeavor or Darwin’s Beagle, the
Enterprise is meant to do much more than just fight, or carry the hero to his
next Campbellian-personal challenge. The Captain is nothing without other
members of the team. And this means that she or he will be written as human, flawed and limited, merely
way-above-average and not a “chosen one” – not an ubermensch-overlord-Ender-Neo
demigod, destined to do it all himself, while peons stare in abject
admiration.
In fact, what
happens when the crew of the enterprise encounters some pompous demigod… a
mutant or super-evolved being with attitude? The mood is always skeptical
curiosity. An eagerness to learn, combined with a steadfast willingness to
stand up to bullies.
In any event,
the ship -- Star Trek’s Enterprise --
stands for something, every time we look at it. This traveling city is civilization. The Federation’s culture and laws, industry
and consensus values -- like the Prime Directive -- are all carried in this
condensed vessel, along with the dramatic diversity of its crew. Every single
time there is an adventure, the civilization of the United Federation of
Planets is put to the test, through its proxy, the hero-ship.
At times, this
lets the show poke at mistakes, ways that some error or flaw or even crime is
being done, in civilization’s name! And generally, it is shown best healed by
light. Only, when the Enterprise (or Voyager or DeepSpace Nine) passes each
test, often with flying colors, so too, by implication, does civilization
itself.
A civilization that might – perhaps
-- even be worthy of our grandchildren.
Compare this
to the role of the Old Republic, in the Lucasian universe. A hapless, hopeless,
clueless melange of bickering futility whose political tiffs are as petty as
they are incomprehensible. The Republic never perceives, never creates or
solves anything. Not once do we see any of its institutions actually function
well. Or even (take note) function at
all!
How can they? The people, the Republic, decent
institutions... these cannot be heroes, or even helpers.
There is no
room, aboard an X Wing fighter, for civilization to ride along.
Only for a
knight and squire.
Does ship
morphology control story? Yes, in many
ways. But essentially it reflects the underlying assumptions of the
storyteller. As I point out – serving as
the “prosecutor” in the fun argument-tome Star Wars on Trial – George Lucas cannot conceive of civilization as a vibrant,
living thing, even though it was a pretty good one that raised and pampered his
youth, then gave him prodigious opportunities to make his dreams come true. The
poison current underlying Star Wars
is one of steaming ingratitude.
(But get the
book! Lucas has some able defenders who stand up for him!)
Me? I like
Gene Roddenberry’s vision. GR, for all his many faults, believed we are in a
boat together. And yes, we’ll need way-above-average heroes. Even average
ones! Lots of the latter, in fact. And that
means you, right now, are needed by your civilization.
We need you.
Yes, you. We cannot do it without you.
That is the
real meaning of Star Trek.
