Positive Liberty

I’ve been very delinquent in my Battlestar Galactica blogging of late. Part of this was because this season was in many ways a real let-down, and in more than one instance we saw the series’ attempts to make interesting statements collapse into banality and poorly thought-out themes, not unlike the awful season 2 episode “Black Market” that I blogged about here or the slightly better sequence in which Roslin incredibly prohibits abortion as a population management measure.

Take the trial of Baltar. There is little question that Baltar is guilty of at least some of the greatest crimes in the history of the human race. Of course, as was made clear in the season finale, some of these crimes involved extenuating circumstances (as in the case of when the Cylon put the gun to his head with regard to the death warrants). This would make interesting fodder for some powerful writing about Baltar’s conscience and the pressures he was under, but in the finale, this opportunity was squandered in the name of a banal statement about how we should give fair trials even to those who seem obviously guilty. A fine sentiment, but not exactly an original one. Worse still, the content of Apollo’s “testimony”—a gimmick that made it almost impossible to suspend disbelief—seemed to be, well, all of humanity sucks anyway, so who are we to cast aspersions on Baltar? And Adama’s dishonorable actions on the court—his prejudging of Baltar; his attempt to shut down the proceedings—are very hard to reconcile with his last minute decision to vote for acquittal. Does Adama really believe the prosecution “didn’t prove its case”? Adama could say a lot about that trial—that Gaeta lied on the stand, that a fair trial was impossible, that Baltar should be forgiven, and so forth—but it’s hard to imagine Adama saying something like that. Finally, the cliffhanger gimmick with the lyrics of “All Along The Watchtower” was a very bad idea, in my opinion. In the original Battlestar, we were asked to believe that the ancient civilizations were founded by aliens from another world. Somehow, this is less hard to believe than the idea that the voices of the angels sing Bob Dylan songs.

When you come down to it, the problem with this last season was that Battlestar is supposed to be—at least, according to Ron Moore—about “hope.” Yet there is precious little hope to be seen in these episodes, and precious little heroism. The only really solid episodes of the season, “Exodus Part 2″ and “The Passage” were on the theme of heroism, and one of these episodes was written by Jane Espenson, a former writer for Firefly, which had a hell of a lot more heroism in it than Battlestar.

Of course, some of this is to be expected. Moore has been explicit about his desire to make Battlestar a “naturalistic science fiction.” Naturalism, of course, seeks to show people “as they are,” or to “hold up a mirror to reality” rather than to portray philosophical themes and principles, with the desire of illustrating how man might be and ought to be. The naturalist tends to distrust artistic portrayals of heroism, and wishes to “humanize” characters by showing us various flaws, all of which tends to soothe those who feel threatened by heroism. Self-doubt and anxiety are therefore more natural themes for naturalism, and they certainly find much expression in Battlestar. Of course, naturalistic writing can be very high quality art—but it is inherently in tension with any notion of heroism other than the “well, they’re heroes in spite of their (excruciatingly detailed) flaws” variety so prominent in “Final Cut.” (And I would contend that it is at least slightly in tension with the very idea of science fiction, which is far better suited to the projection of grand themes than of the minute specifics of flawed characters.) And this is a serious problem, given that the theme of the show is supposed to be an answer to Adama’s Challenge in the miniseries: is humanity worth saving? So far, what have we seen that gives us a positive answer to that? The “portrayal of flawed character” stuff was easier to take because Adama, at least, was a reliable hero, and that heroism did give us hope. But even this has been weakening lately, and if the answer to the Challenge is no, then why are we bothering to watch this show? Surely there is more to life in the fleet than the drab, collectivistic, blue-grey hell that we’ve seen so far. I could only believe in a God who could dance, said Nietzsche. Can anyone dance in Battlestar Galactica?

On this point, I commend Bill Gordon’s essay “GINO,” in the recently published So Say We All: An Unauthorized Collection of Thoughts And Opinions on Battlestar Galactica. Gordon is a resolute fan of the original BSG, who attacks virtually every aspect of the new series, sometimes unreasonably. But he makes solid points when he says that the new series “focuses intently upon the very worst of humanity. It is a fleeting, small-scale, wholly depressing depiction of man’s darkest qualities…that revels in the themes of deceit, paranoia, and betrayal.” Rather than seeking to portray the heroic qualities that are the redeeming character trait of mankind—and that are the answer to Adama’s Challenge—the new show “offers what its producers purport to be a mirror image of contemporary American society: a civilization unable to keep its pants on or [to] rise above its own backstabbing greed, avarice, or lust (both for sex and power) long enough to focus its pursuit on a lie.” Adama’s attitude toward humanity is ambiguous, of course, and Gordon understandably fears that this ambiguity is hopeless. His constant brooding over humanity’s weaknesses—and, worse, his outright lie to his people in pretending to know where Earth is—reveals that he “has no faith in a people that ‘still commit murder because of greed, spite, and jealousy’ and visit all of our sins upon our children.’ A leader who has no faith in his people can certainly never expect his people to place faith in him.” (Emphasis added.)

Gordon makes another point that’s well worth emphasizing. If the show is intended, as so many claim, as an analysis of the post Sept. 11 world, then what exactly is the conclusion we are supposed to draw? If Adama really believes that the terrorizing, obsessively monotheistic and anti-secular Cylons, being humanity’s creation, are some sort of righteous punishment for our wickedness, then

we have no choice but to conclude that [Adama’s] words reflect Moore and Eick’s perception of American society. The clear assertion is that “we” created the terrorists that took the lives of thousands of innocents in the cowardly attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Despite Moore and Eick’s backpedaling and protests that [BSG] is “just a television show,” the fact remains that one of Moore’s documented regrets regarding…[Adama’s Challenge] is that his favorite line, “We are the flawed creation,” was cut from the aired version…. It is a line that speaks volumes regarding the intentions of the writer.

If Americans are worthy of victory over Islamofascism it is not because we are more pious, or that we reject so-called materialistic greed to a sufficient degree; it is not that the Islamofascists’ minor premise is incorrect. It is that our philosophical principles—as articulated in the Declaration of Independence, and as honestly cherished and pursued by millions of Americans every day, despite whatever backsliding and deception we undeniably have practiced—are right and are better than theirs. Likewise, if humanity is worthy of victory over the Cylons, it is not because we give fair trials to traitors or that we regret and feel guilt over the beating of prisoners, or that we, like Apollo, muddle through a universe of seeming incomprehensibility, cramped by constant anxiety and bouts of bleary, tear-soaked compassion—it is because human beings are free, creative, brilliant works of nature who possess something great and powerful within themselves. In this last season particularly we have seen plenty of the former, and very little of the latter.

But this is not my primary complaint. I relish challenging and intelligently written television, even when it is contrary to my own philosophical beliefs. If Moore, et al., really believe that humanity is not worth saving, that is a perfectly fine point to make in art (although obviously I would strongly disagree with it). The problem comes when they make this point while simultaneously laying claim to a humanitarian love for humanity and a belief in such things as “hope,” heroism, or righteous indignation at injustice—and that they do so in a confusing manner; in a manner that often seems inconsistent.

I still enjoy Battlestar Galactica, and I hold out some hope that in the coming season, we will find more heroism and redemption. If so, it will turn out that this last season was an ugly chapter in the history of humanity’s quest for Earth. But if not, I’ll be sad to see this show squander so much potential.

Update: This from Glenn Reynolds today: “the movie industry — or at least the critic section thereof — is stuck in the 1970s, when moral ambiguity and angst used to be groundbreaking and novel. Now they’re overdone, predictable and boring.”

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