Pop Culture

Prigs in Space

The Sydney Morning Herald (Spectrum) 20-21 October 2001

Recently, the series "Enterprise" premiered on U.S. television, renewing the "Star Trek" franchise yet again. Thirty-five years after the dashing Captain Kirk first uttered the world's most famous split infinitive ("to boldly go where no man has gone before"), the concept has spawned six television shows (including a short-lived animated series), nine feature films, and the strongest cult following of any television label.

The fans were profiled, as a group, in the documentary "Trekkies" (1997), in which former "Trek" actor Denise Crosby interviewed some of the more obsessive devotees. It doubtless irritated some of the less eccentric fans, who can't stand being called "Trekkies" and believe that wearing Starfleet uniforms to jury duty or in your dental practice is rather silly. Nonetheless, as it proved, "Star Trek" certainly stirs up passion. According to one study, a majority of Americans consider themselves fans. (If ratings are a guide, their fanaticism does not extend to actually watching the shows.)

The more obvious fans tend to enjoy themselves, perhaps even bringing out the "inner child" that psychologists often recommend. As they say, this can be a healthy occupation. The problem is that the original series, despite its cheer squad and its glowing reputation, was perhaps not as healthy as it seemed.

Much has been said - by both fans and television historians - of how vibrant and daring it was. For U.S. viewers, "Star Trek" was a step above the usual space fare, but compared to inanity like "Lost in Space" and "Captain Video", this wasn't saying much. (They were sadly ignorant of British gems like "Quatermass" and "Doctor Who".)

Decades later, when introducing "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Trek" creator Gene Roddenberry spoke proudly about the courage of the original series, citing the example of a "No Smoking" sign on the bridge of the Enterprise. In an era when television depended on tobacco sponsorship, this was a brave touch.

Sadly, despite the claims of devotees, the bravery seldom went beyond that (barely noticeable) sign. A pity, as Roddenberry had loftier ideas. We caught some a glimpse of his vision in "The Cage", a pilot episode that was not shown publicly for several years, with Jeffrey Hunter as the Enterprise's impulsive Captain Pike, whose flaws of judgement almost jeopardised his mission. His first mate was a plain-looking, dark-haired woman (played by Majel Barrett, later Mrs Roddenberry).

What eventually made it to television, however, suffered from network interference. Pike was replaced by Captain Kirk, whose instincts, honed through military training, could never be deemed wrong. As played atrociously by William Shatner, he was as wooden as any character in "Thunderbirds". Barrett reappeared, but she was demoted to the more traditional role of ship's nurse, and - in an extra nod to conformity - was now blonde.

The series' defenders will remind us of Uhura, a black woman who worked with the boys on deck, thereby inspiring several young women and girls to strive for higher things in life. As "communications officer", Uhura made a peculiar feminist role model: in effect, a glorified receptionist, whose computer panel looked strangely like a telephone call centre. She also wore mini-skirts, looked stunning, and probably "inspired" the male viewers as much as the female ones. (Nonetheless, She and Kirk shared American television's first interracial kiss - a small but worthy action.)

The only other female regular was Kirk's "yeoman", whose role seemed somewhere between secretary and concubine. The upshot: in a series renowned for its female role models, we had a nurse, a receptionist and a personal assistant. (In contrast, the women on the recently-axed "Star Trek: Voyager" included the chief engineer and the captain herself. In this respect at least, we've come further in 30 years than we were predicted to come in 200.)

When critics (or even fans) want to chastise the original "Star Trek", they are more inclined to attack the shaky, cardboard sets; the cheap special effects; the dubious "science"; or the appalling plot devices. In these respects, however, it was no worse than any other American television drama of the time. Any glance at "The Fugitive" or "Marcus Welby, MD" would show that these fondly remembered series now seem dated.

Besides, as we are constantly reminded, any criticism is negated by "Star Trek"'s true appeal. "Star Trek is a vote of confidence in mankind," explained John Javna in his 1985 book "Cult TV". "This space opera says we WILL survive, resolve our conflicts on Earth and join together to 'explore new worlds' and extend human influence."

The "ideal" world of the Enterprise, however, was ruled by an American captain with a militaristic, "we-know-what's-right" attitude. (Roddenberry, a World War II veteran, possibly shared this feeling.) In this perfect universe, American-style policy wins the day. The main story was almost always shared between Kirk, the alien half-breed Mr Spock (whose mother was an American woman) and another American, Dr 'Bones' McCoy.

Much has been said about the multicultural nature of the crew, but the non-Americans (a Chinaman, an African, a Scotsman and later, a Russian) usually had little to do but obey their captain's orders. Until the movie series began in 1979, they never became full-fledged characters. Even Chekov, reputedly introduced after Pravda had complained about the lack of cosmonauts, was little more than comic relief. "Star Trek" suggested that the Americans would inherit the Earth, and their foreign policy, as they beamed down to each planet, left a little to be desired.

"Captain Kirk was always talking about the 'prime directive', which was the order the crew of the Enterprise had received never to interfere in the affairs of other planets," wrote David Brooks recently in The Weekly Standard. "But in fact, they interfered in almost every episode and almost always in the same way: they disposed of tyrants and created democracy."

In two episodes - "This Side of Paradise" and "The Apple" - the crew landed on Utopian planets, then proceeded to vanquish the rulers. (In "The Apple", a scathing and uninformed attack on alternative lifestyles, Kirk played the "serpent" to "free" the people of Paradise.) Paradise was destroyed for the sake of democracy, always finding justification in the realms of science fiction. While the science was more complex, the solutions of "Star Trek" were as simple and one-sided as those of a James Bond movie.

As the world debates President Bush's to declare the "crusade" against terrorism ("a battle between good and evil"), and critics are blaming US foreign policy for the September 11 attacks, imagine what would happen to Earth if all Starfleet captains behaved like Kirk.

Many believe that "Star Trek" ended before its time, but as America became disillusioned by the Vietnam War, perhaps it wasn't a moment too soon. In a 1967 poll of science fiction authors, Roddenberry claimed to be anti-Vietnam (as did "Star Trek" scribes like Jerome Bixby and Harlan Ellison). The problem with "Star Trek" lay not in Roddenberry's famous pacifism, but in the bull-headed way in which is characters attempted to improve the universe.

It was all passion, no rationalism. Spock constantly battled between his Vulcan logic and reason, and the irrational emotions of his human side. Almost always, logic would lose out.

In the film "Star Trek III: Search for Spock" (1984), his friends raise him from the dead, causing the destruction of the Enterprise and the death of Kirk's son (among others) in the process. When Spock asks why he was worth the sacrifices, Kirk glibly says, "Sometimes the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many." Spock doesn't even bother to debate this inane principle, which is frequent motivation for movie villains and myopic world leaders alike.

Twenty years after the original "Trek", as the Cold War was winding down and Mikhail Gorbachev was exciting the world with his Glasnost policy, Roddenberry unveiled "Star Trek: The Next Generation". In Shakespearian actor Patrick Stewart, the Enterprise finally had a captain who could act. More importantly, it painted a universe that wasn't all black and white. Picard would often face the side effects of humanity's well-meaning (but often disastrous) cultural interference. Perhaps, not long before his death in 1991, Roddenberry had learned that the world's solutions were not so simple.

"Enterprise" (whose title discards the "Star Trek" preface) is set 100 years before the original series, following an uncertain Enterprise crew as they leave Earth for the first time. So far, the reviews have been positive. According to actor Scott Bakula, who plays the captain, the crew are "new kids on the block ... finding our way around. We don't know all the rules of the universe because there's no booklet to check into."

A Starship crew who can learn from other societies, rather than simply inflict their ideals upon them? Now THAT might deserve a fan club.