Commentary: What Was Star Trek?

Just before bed most nights, I like to wind down by watching Netflix. Until recently, my poison of choice was usually House -- until my brother accidentally convinced me that a third full re-watch of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine was in order.

As I implied in my FANifesto, DS9 was my entry point into the entire Star Trek universe. It also happens to be my favorite "generation" of Trek for reasons that have only multiplied with time. Indeed, after the upcoming Hugo deadline has passed, I intend to share twelve little things that happened during DS9's third - and weakest - season that nonetheless help to explain my passionate affection for Trek's "red-headed stepchild" and illustrate the nature of the show's genius.

Today, meanwhile, I want to address an argument that erupted on Facebook recently regarding the nature of the Trek franchise as a whole. 

It all started when William Lehman, a contributor at the Otherwhere Gazette, made a passing remark in an otherwise unrelated post that seemed, to some, to suggest that Trek's legacy was chiefly technological. I'm not sure this is what Lehman was really arguing, but no matter: Some folks who were involved in the production of the original Star Trek series objected strongly to this characterization, insisting that Gene Roddenberry's intent was wholly sociological and political -- and that the technology was simply an afterthought. "The Original Series wasn't about the engineering as much as it was about the 'Social Justice Warriors Glittery hoo ha' stuff," David Gerrold wrote in one typical response. "I was there. I know what Gene Roddenberry envisioned. He went on at length about it in almost every meeting. He wasn't about technology, he was about envisioning a world that works for everyone, with no one and nothing left out. Gene Roddenberry was one of the great Social Justice Warriors. You don't get to claim him or his show as a shield of virtue for a cause he would have disdained."

Far be it for me to dispute Gerrold's authority on the subject. Roddenberry was indeed a mid-century progressive and a secular humanist, and that worldview did influence the entire Star Trek franchise. That's why I happily conceded recently that Trek is not a conservative "text"; any show that presupposes a utopian Earth that has united under a one-world, socialist government is certainly not animated by the thought of, say, Edmund Burke.

But the reality of Star Trek is more complicated than the vision of one man. Even if we concede Gene Roddenberry's likely affinity for the causes of today's social justice warriors (something I do not actually acknowledge, as I'll make clear in a future post), that does not mean the left owns Trek. Sorry, but I categorically refuse to accept such a proposition. Trek was the product of many minds working in concert -- and some of these minds inserted things that didn't exactly cleave to Roddenberry's idea of "how things should be."

Consider, for example, Bread and Circuses, whose script arose out of the joint efforts of Gene Roddenberry and Gene Coon. For those who are bad at titles, this is the episode in which the Enterprise comes upon a planet on which a society modeled on Ancient Rome has survived long enough to develop the media tools of 20th-century Earth. Said episode mocks both the Roman Empire and the television studio culture of the 1960's -- but it also has this odd moment at the very end in which the slaves in the featured society are revealed to be following a faith analogous to Christianity. If Trek is all about Roddenberry's fiercely secular, progressive politics, how did that get in there?

Actually, while we're on the subject of Bread and Circuses, let me bring up something else -- something that, I believe, no one has yet mentioned. The aforementioned episode is not generally considered to be one of the original Trek's best, but it happens to be one that I personally enjoy for a reason that is neither technological nor political: Spock and McCoy.

Is there room in Star Trek's legacy for scenes like this -- scenes devoted to the characters and their relationships with one another? In my opinion, this is the most under-appreciated reason why the original Star Trek series endures: Gene Roddenberry, Gene Coon, et. al. never forgot the importance of writing people the viewer could care about. We didn't lament the passing of Leonard Nimoy days ago because of Trek's "social commentary" or its gadgets. We lamented his passing because Nimoy portrayed a fictional alien whose rich history, deep relationships, and fascinating internal conflicts resonated with the audience -- and that makes Trek a wholly legitimate example to deploy when we anti-SJW writers make our arguments about the importance of putting the craft of storytelling before the message.