Star Trek: A Universe of Evil
Star Trek is the wrong kind of "Progressivism"
Introduction
Recently I have enjoyed the excellent series of essays on Star Trek by Isaac Young titled, Star Trek: A Left Wing Dream in a Right Wing Future in which he lays out a thorough analysis on the 20th century’s most eponymous TV show.
The United Federation of Planets is an egalitarian, equal-opportunity, social-democratic organization that runs a one-world government with an extremely powerful space navy and an expansionist policy.
So why does this description ring hollow? Well, this comes down to who leads the UFP, and who are the leaders on the front lines?
While I am not a nerd enough to pontificate on the precise individuals in charge of the UFP or Starfleet, we get several close proxies in the latter question; Captains Kirk, Picard, Sisko, Janeway, and Archer.
(PLEASE NOTE: I AM NOT A STAR TREK NERD, FEEL FREE TO SPERG OUT IN THE COMMENTS IF YOU HAVE SEEN EVERY SINGLE EPISODE LABELED “STAR TREK”, IT MAKES FOR GOOD ENGAGEMENT.)
Captain Kirk
Kirk is a man who is imposed upon, and not by the chivalrous virtue offered by Christianity, but a rather cold and indifferent moral framework. Kirk is a bureaucrat’s caged animal, and yet I can’t help but see the shadow of a conqueror—or at least a warrior—in him.
You’ll be surprised by the number of times he resorts to fisticuffs, and of all the Captains, he is the least interested in doing things “by the book”. I distinctly recall my days of watching the original series with my father then transitioning over to The Next Generation. If Picard is the quiet, contemplative explorer of the cosmos, Kirk is the rocker boy in comparison. What makes Kirk fascinating is that he’s the most distinctly out of place in the world of the Federation—which itself was a far more nebulous entity back in the days of the original series.
—Isaac Young, Trantor Publishing
The Captain most associated and culturally identified is also the only one I have the least issues with, while nerds will say behind-the-scenes that William Shatner was too self-important or unkind to his fellow actors, I would say that his portrayal of an Aryan is pretty good. He is an heroic character and more often than not, resorts to his fists, wits and charm to get out of very dangerous situations.
Kirk is written in every single instance as the “Captain”, a master of his vessel, having an endearing emotional connection with his starship, Enterprise. Whenever he is placed in positions of higher authority such as in the film, Wrath of Khan, he chaffs with the restrictions of bureaucracy and that the organization has placed upon him. Though he may age throughout the films, he still retains a youthful attitude towards adventure and the unknown. In terms of philosophy, Kirk is an “ends-justify-the-means”, where the outcome is more important than the means. His dalliances with moon princesses and exotic women, are a reflection of his innate vigor, restlessness and confidence.
Of all the Captains, Kirk is probably the all around best, while he can argue semantics and politics with Spock, efficiently operate and command a starship, be an inspiring and competent leader, be charming and diplomatic towards alien beings, and is also a fierce opponent with both fisticuffs and phasers.
But the youth of Kirk is followed by the pretensions of middle age and the doldrums that result from an excessive amount of time spent thinking about how best to meddle in others affairs.
Captain Picard
As I get older and go back to watch portions or scenes from The Next Generation, the more I have come to dislike this sequel show’s premise, specifically the focal point of it’s main protagonist, Jean-Luc Picard. Where Kirk was a Captain and adventurer, solving problems and defeating his foes with superior tactics and tech-know-how; Picard seeks to answer the universe’s cries of pain with absurdities and half-truths.
I cannot really define the precise scene that made me grow cold towards TNG and Picard, it might have to do with the pilot episode, Encounter at Farpoint. In this episode, a group of simple aliens called the Bandi, have created a new space port, Farpoint Station, where things are magically created without any explanation whatsoever. The being known as Q, intervenes during the episode and declares to Picard that humanity is on trial and their actions at Farpoint will determine the outcome of their future by the Q Continuum. When Picard is pressed in this regard, he makes the nakedly obvious lie that humanity has “evolved”, beyond savagery and violence, and weakly declares the residents of Earth to not only be superior to old humanity, but to have replaced it as well.
The Farpoint station is revealed to be a giant alien jellyfish with super-magical properties, and through some quick-thinking by Picard, the being joins it’s mate in space. Q returns briefly to grudgingly acknowledge their passing of the trial by the Q Continuum. Picard tells him off to his face.
Initially I thought that this scenario was a little on the nose—Q, a being who for all intents and purposes is the Judeo-Christian deity, with all his powers of reality-warping, mind-control, miracles and control over physical matter—is judging the actions of an egalitarian humanity that has only just settled into it’s comfortable stage of socialist-democracy in the finery and symbolism of Star Trek’s past boogeyman; Fascist Humanity.
In this courtroom, Picard, Data, Troi and Yar are the representatives of humanity, though two are not fully human, this subtlety enforces the writers’ belief that Fascism was not only a bad system, but it cared for none of the people under it’s rule. The imagery of the black hawk on a red background is not subtle and never was intended to be.
The boogeyman has set up a trial wherein the enlightened and evolved humanity must answer for, and the judgement is unfair. Progressive ideals bend and break in the real world, but in the confines of a carefully constructed narrative, the Progressive wins by virtue of his own enlightenment and superiority.
How is the Progressive superior to the Fascist? I am glad you asked, the answer is not explained in this scene, or anywhere else for that matter, not to a satisfactory degree that is.
The reason I bring up this particular scene from Star Trek, is that it encapsulates who Picard is as a character. While he does display heroism at times, he is primarily a diplomat, and so must always find a non-violent solution or one which benefits the most amount of people in the universe. His ends do not and rarely ever justify the means, he is a man of passion and experience, but lacks a distinct quality that Kirk had—consistency.
While he may be a great character and very entertaining, he is not altogether consistent in his dealings with problems episode to episode. He has a clear ideological bent that Kirk does not share, though they both embody the Federation in their respective eras, Kirk is motivated by very human emotions, by his will-to-power and his relationship with his crew.
Picard is more complex, but despite his specializing in philosophy and rhetoric, is even more devoted to the high-minded opinion that the Federation has for itself over that of it’s predecessors and also, that of it’s history. He is a man that fervently believes that humanity is imminently perfectible. Even when challenged by god, they assert their superiority over their past, never acknowledging just how human they actually are, denying that they are defined by their past—they despise their predecessors more than Q ever could, while their god may be dismayed or repulsed, the Federation is ashamed. Shame is a deeper emotion than disgust, able to twist the mind and control entire civilizations, while disgust may be a sufficient barrier for behavior, it does not motivate like shame does.
Star Trek is ashamed of itself and wants to forget about that past, as evidenced by the more recent Star Trek: Discovery and Strange New Worlds—erasing what came before in favor of what they want their past to be.
While Picard is not this degenerate in his views of the past, he nevertheless advocates for the future of humanity lying in it’s ability to perfect itself—a dubious claim regardless of ideological philosophy.
Captain Archer
Wait a minute! Did I not also mention Sisko and Janeway? Yes I did; I never watched DS9 or Voyager, so I have no basis upon which to judge them. It would be quite foolish of me to write about two series I never watched.
Amusingly enough, the Captain that I enjoyed watching the most was Scott Bakulas character of Jonathan Archer. I watched most of season 1 and season 3 and some of 4 before I burned out and went back to watching Stargate SG-1 and Babylon 5 (two series that I will do articles about in the future).
Before I continue I want to once more quote Isaac Young and his masterful analysis:
Archer doubts in a way that sets him apart from all the rest. Should humanity explore the stars? Does the galaxy want us poking around? Would it be better if humanity stayed home, or barring that, send out warships instead of exploration vessels? The narrative rushes to reassure Archer at every turn, that this is the best path forward, that this is the manifest destiny, but it never feels final. The doubts always come creeping back, and Archer never stops pondering.
I can never fully make the leap from Star Trek: Enterprise to the original series, despite the story itself setting me down and recounting the events. Archer’s is the story of a Starfleet Captain set at the Federation’s inception when he ought to have been at the Federation’s collapse. His narrative makes infinitely more sense as the last of the galactic explorers rather than the first.
But Archer was, in a sense, the last of the Captains anyway. He was the last who honestly dreamed of the Federation, and he was the last who made you want to believe in it too.
—Star Trek: The Ultimate Dissident Review
Throughout his series, and I picked up on this from episode 1, is this growing tension that no one can really communicate, these are desperate times, and Archer is a man exactly where he needs to be.
We have temporal terrorists, shapeshifters, and a consortium known as the Xindi, which views the humans as the harbingers of their destruction. The ship of the series, the NX-01 Enterprise is sleek, but mean looking, with a stripped-back, exposed appearance.
This is a galaxy that is dealing with the opening stages of a war, the main characters just don’t know it yet. As the series progressed, the sense of fear becomes quite palpable throughout; especially in the episodes, Twilight (Season 3, episode 8), and The Forge (Season 4, episode 7). The former being a time-travel plot, while the latter being a “hunt-down-religious-terrorist” mission. But in both of these, the future and the present they show are not at all in line with the idealistic spirit of TOS or the narcissism of TNG; they depict a wound in the fabric of being.
Captain Archer faces down the Xindi threat in season 3, a pawn in the Temporal Cold War, and the designers of a “Death Star” superweapon that destroys Earth in an alternate timeline. In Season 4, Archer faces the Augments (leftovers from the Eugencis Wars), Vulcan political factions, Klingon super-soldier mutants, and Humanity-First terrorists. While the old questions from earlier Trek make their appearance, this is not the same static world of TOS or the resetting dynamism of TNG—decisions have consequences (to an extant) and the show is strangely bereft of optimism.
The galaxy is unraveling in Archer’s time, and though the narrative constantly bends over backwards to make sense chronolgically speaking, it does not make any sense thematically speaking. I am a believer that whatever artist puts into his work, what he truly believes is always expressed in his art; he cannot hide it and often times, the framing is in direct conflict with what he has expressed.
On a side note, I would like to explore the two Mirror Universe episodes (Season 4, episodes 18 & 19), or really, the concept of the Mirror Universe within the ideological framing of Star Trek.
The Mirror Universe is not used to explore a different universe, but the same one with the morals reversed, it reads like what a Christian would write if given the opportunity to depict a world without their savior; one where Captains fear their own crew and are routinely killed by them. It is both nonsensical and strange, but from a liberal standpoint, the only way to justify your own worldview is to use ad hominims and denigrate your opponents.
The Mirror Universe is stupid on the whole, and especially if you think about it for longer than five seconds—why is the technology, characters, setting, etc., the same—except for their framing as genocidal, brutal conquerors?
Well, if you have been paying attention, you will know why—because empire is a nasty word, and the Terran Empire is the nastiest empire that ever nastied! Do not be those murder-happy dictators that are so obviously evil and psychotic! Also because anything that supports White people (which Terran Empire is clearly a subtle euphemism for . . . Terra/of the Earth/Earth = soil/Blood and soil). If you look at any reference in Star Trek, you will notice that whenever Humans bring up “Earth First”, or “Humanity First”, they are never depicted sympathetically, but always as some inferior group that is motivated by hate or their own gain over that of others; they are Star Trek’s version of White Nationalists and National Socialists, they are not very good at concealing it.
The Terran Empire is depicted as an Humanity First faction, aberrant to the “good and equal” Federation of the main story. Of course, in each story set in the Mirror Universe, the main character’s exact opposites are power hungry, sadistic, psychotic and cruel to the point of absurdity. I struggle to read or watch a story set in such a universe, as it is even more absurd than the framing of Star Trek, with a straight face.
Whenever people mention parallel or mirror universes, I generally prefer the series, Fringe, for a more balanced setting (especially seasons 2 and 3, even though that has its own issues). Alternate realities can be used to explore how characters fit in to their world and the ideas one might adopt while in luxury, versus what they might believe in a harsher world—this makes for great tension and chracter drama—but very poor world building, as the rules can change if you wish them to. Instituting hard rules on mirror universe is also very stifling at times, where a creative solution would have worked, mandates by real life force the fiction into boxes they do not seek to occupy.
Ultimately, I condemn Star Trek’s Mirror Universe as abject absurdism; a pure propagandistic effort to impart moral values in the viewer based upon anti-atrocity views, the cornerstone of modern day justifications for “minority rights”. Showing a main-character-that-is-not-the-main-character do something they clearly do not do, nor be capable of doing, just shows how lackluster and weak your message is.
In summation, it has become clear to me that Star Trek is a series born from Democratic Liberalism, it wears it’s ideology proudly like a Catholic would his crucifix, and it stands in the middle of a torrential downpour claiming that the Earth is in fact . . . dry.
Star Trek is a universe of evil, and the humans that parade through the screen, are happily oblivious to the fundamentals of the galaxy they inhabit; it is deeply cruel, hostile and dangerous. But ignore that creeping dread, Anon, nothing to see behind the curtain! There are no gods, there are no monsters, there are no truly alien races—for we are all fundamentally . . . liberals, at heart.
Thank you for reading and Hail Victory!