Monday, May 18, 2009

Star Trek: The Wrath of Kant

The new Star Trek is a veritable self-righteous orgy of anti-intellectualism, anti-rationalism, and regressive politics. Shatner may have been snubbed; young kirk may be cockblocked, strangled, punched, and beaten black and blue; and spock may initially get the big chair and the girl. But at the end of the day, the old series uneasy, tense balance between the interest of community and individual, between head and heart, between justice and revenge is absolutely smashed to smithereens.

The history of Star Trek, and by implication, the Federation, is rewritten thanks to the revenge fantasy, nihilistic "rage against the it was" illogic of David Lewisian anti-philosophical possible world theory that rewrites spock, whose the dual origins posed the dilemma upon which the always tenuous moral and intellectual weight of the original series depended, as simply human. As Kirk.The principle dilemma of the film, a film that at every turn underlines, repeats, and adds exclamation points to its kirk-egaardian moral lesson (and, at the end of the day, this movie is Sunday School; it exists, with all its shiny whizbangery, soley to convey a Message) is, appropriately, the logical inconsistency of that message: don't be governed by reason, unless passion demands it.

Let's put this another way, so that the last great moral philosopher (because last moral philosopher--his successors are consequentialists, or amoral, philosophers, and so not comptetion), Immanuel Kant, can roll over in his grave more thoroughly: it is unreasonable to be too reasonable, where too reasonable is determined by the law of non-reason. In Kant's language: the movie proposes a hypothetical rather than categorical imperative: act independently of your inclinations only if you are inclined to do so. Or, more radically: your duty is to act in accordance with duty if and only if it is not done out of duty.

This moral appears in multiple ways, but most clearly, of course, in the twin, and morally clone, tales of revenge that move the plot. First, there is Nero, a Romulan seeking revenge for the death of his wife, which he tenuously blames Spock for, but in the true spirit of the passion for retribution, takes out first, on the entire population of Vulcan, with the intention of expanding his wrath to every planet in the federation.

Second, there is his mirror, Spock, who watches his planet be destroyed and, under the careful moral tutelage and urging of author and audience, follows Nero's example and does the same: destroying the (in the original timeline) last Romulan, in effect, succeeding in his own act of genocide in retribution for Nero's failed act of genocide. This mirror moral (il)logic is endorsed explicitly by Spock's father, Kirk, and by Spock's older self, who he encounters at the end of the movie preparing to seek out his own private Palestine to rebuild the Vulcan race.

The moral, explicitly put: It is immoral to restrain the passion of anger by reason. One should not ask whether righteous indignation is being expressed proportionately, justly, or effectively. To do so is an active wrong against the inviolate holiness of personal passion. This is the same moral that Kirk (in virtue of the leap of faith into the absurd!) effectively and consistently always stands for as a character, but now with out any counterbalance: the Star Trek universe becomes a thoroughly homogenous, manichaen, one-worldview-universe. Kirk's law: no one has a right to law, we ought to break law on principle, we have the right to make our lawlessness into a law has, in a parody of Kant, been transformed into a law of nature.Let's make it more explicit. Spock learns that Nero was right, that his action was just, because he did not commit the grave moral crime of the Vulcans - doubting that passion = justice. If Nero was wrong, it was only in his failure to successfully eradicate his arbitrarily chosen enemy.

The beauty of this movies attempt to positively portray this deeply, deeply illogical moral worldview is that it serves as a practical demonstration of Kant's refutation of moral relativism. Kant argued that you are welcome to reject the notion of morality altogether, but if you affirm it, you--out of conceptual necessity--affirm a categorical, universally binding and unconditional imperative at its basis. If this is true, then we can demonstrate that a purported moral law is false by "universalizing the maxim", imagining it as a law of nature, and discovering that it is logically impossible. For example, we cannot make a natural law out of occasionally lying for consquentialist reasons, since a world in which this is a natural law would be one in which trust is not possible, making lying impossible.

In this case: a world in which the total extermination of one's enemy becomes a natural law is impossible, since the original exterminator must have already been exterminated, making the so-called cycle of violence not endless, but impossible to begin. The movie highlights this absurdity by demonstrating that it can only be effected through time travel: through the intersection of two distinct possible worlds. Or: through the rejection of the law of non-contradiction. Put differently, through the completion of Nero's mission: the extermination of logic, of the vulcan in Spock and of the vulcan race.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

The 40 Year Old Idiot: Steve Correll as Dostoyevskyian Innocent

Michael Scott's crime is innocence. He is a fool, not a villain.

He is, in many ways, the polar opposite of his evil doppelganger in the original version of The Office. His crime is that he fails to be as evil as David Brent. David Brent's character is dangerous, cruel, humilating, precisely because he callously and insincerely manipulates his employees. His means-end reasoning and indifference to anything but consequences is precisely what Michael Scott lacks.

First things first: innocent in what sense? In the Dostoysevskian sense, as portraryed in characters such as Alyosha (Brothers Karamazov) and Prince Myshkin (The Idiot_. The Dostoyevskian sense is the Christian: one is innocent, not of wrong doing, but of sin, where sin is not wrong doing, but wrong intending (Compare Kant: There is nothing good without qualification but a good will).

Now, straightaway we must acknowledge, with qualifications, the quaintness of such a conception (and this is the quaintness, whether contemporary revised Christians like it or not, of Christianity itself -- its alien heart from the dominant, like it or not, worldview of the late modern world). We all know very well that, as the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions--ironically (and literally, historically), with innocents. In other words, we later moderns say with condescension: how nice that you meant well, but the proof is in the pudding. That is to say: we are consequentialists (our nice name for what Nietzsche called nihilists).

And this is why innocence is a crime, and how an innocent can be a villain: to merely mean well and not do well is not just a misfortune, in a post-moral consequentialist universe, it is a crime.

If anyone is inclined to doubt that Michael Scott does not, in his disastrous, imcompetent way, truly and utterly mean well, I refer you to the authorial center of the show: Pam. By authorial center, I mean that her character tells us what the show--as opposed to the characters--thinks. Broadly: she is the most positively portrayed, sympathetic character. Specifically: she is the only character whose point of view is not even lovingly critiqued and, consequently, is implied to be true. Pam consistently reaffirms Michael Scott's innocence. That is, she plays the Christian counterpoint to the audience, and the office's, consequentialism. For Pam, Michael is annoying, embarrassing, and disturbing, but he is not evil. Again and again, at the bitter end of each new humiliating display, Pam arrives at the end to pick Michael up and reassure him. In contrast, in the judgements, complaints, and mockery of every other character, we always detect something more: moral judgment. To the rest of the audience, Michael is not a bad boss, but an evil one. To Pam, Michael is a fool, to the others a jerk. More precisely, to the others, to be a fool is to be a jerk, since intentions are irrelevant.

(To be continued...)