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ljwritesIt's not often that a science fiction TV episode gets my academic side berserk with excitement. I mean, even I have to admit a TV show about aliens and spaceships that goes on and on about theories of law and economics and social justice would be dull.
"Captive Pursuit," however, is notable for punching me right in the ivory tower without being dull at all. Hoo boy, is it not.
The central dilemma of the story relates closely to an issue that I'm very interested in these days: Is there one right standard to treat every person, or is the standard contingent on the person's society and background?
We often apply this question to real-life issues, most notably when we talk about the role culture in a pluralistic society. Should women be allowed to wear burqas in public? Is female genital mutilation an acceptable practice? Should children be allowed religious exemption from public education? Should religious views be taught in public school classrooms?
There are two main schools of thought on these issues. One is universalism, that everyone should be treated by the same standard of personal freedom. The other is cultural relativism, that standards of good and bad and right or wrong are determined by a person's background. Relativism, in fact, casts doubt on the very idea of a universal standard. Isn't what we call the liberal or enlightened standard just another product of a specific culture, the industrialized West?
Both positions have their drawbacks. Universalism at the extreme can turn to imperialism: These savages just don't know better so we'll make them better, and kill them for it if we have to. Relativism in the extreme is, well, relativist, and can end up tolerating or even excusing abhorrent practices like slavery and mutilation.
"Captive Pursuit" does an excellent job of bringing these issues to the forefront by presenting the viewer with a culture that most viewers, and for that matter the main characters, find repulsive. This race creates and raises sentient beings, the Tosk, solely for the purpose of hunting them down. The Tosk are sworn to secrecy about their identity and purpose, and if captured alive are condemned to a lifetime of degradation. That is the unenviable choice facing a Tosk in life: Die violently in the pursuit or live as the lowest of the low.
What can a society like the Federation, which prides itself on both its enlightenment and its diversity, do when it comes into contact with a society like that? IDIC would put the kibosh on imperialism, and indeed even interference.
What the Federation does offer is a loophole: It's not about to invade the Tosk's Gamma Quadrant homeworld in order to free the sentient prey, and it won't refuse to return a captive Tosk when asked (despite the lifetime of suffering and humiliation he has to look forward to). There is, however, the option of asylum for persecuted persons who make it into Federation space. This is the option our Tosk is offered.
If Tosk had accepted, it would have been a straightforward happy ending, hurray Federation values and all that. It doesn't really solve the problem for all the other Tosk back on the Gamma Quadrant, and in fact it looks like that option is closed off in the future because the Alpha Quadrant will now be declared off-limits for the hunt. Still, at least our guy, an odd yet endearing figure with his combination of deadly abilities and seeming innocence, would have been saved.
The episode, of course, gets interesting because Tosk refuses the offer, with all the troubling implications that follow. For all his born-and-bred survival abilities there's something childlike about the guy, as though he has led a highly sheltered existence. The reality backs up that impression: By the lead hunter's own admission Tosk knows nothing except being prey in his world's intergalactic bloodsport.
This brings us to the question: Where is the self located? This is about locating the point where we understand what is right or wrong, and how we decide what is good or bad in our own lives. It's the Archimedean point where we set the lever to move the earth, or our lives. It's a question that overlaps the positions on culture discussed above, though not in a neat one-on-one match. (We can discuss that in the comments if you want; this review is already way too long.)
The industrialized and democratic world is used to the idea that the self is, or should be, independent of its circumstances and makes its decisions according to a single standard of right or wrong, that of freedom. You are free to make decisions on what is good or bad within the constraints of what is right. It doesn't matter what culture or circumstances you come from, you are free to choose your own destiny so far as the decision respects others' rights to do the same.
So, for instance, I am free to decide to be an atheist rather than follow a religion because I think being an atheist is a greater good for me. However, I may not abolish religion because that would interfere with other people's choice of what is good for them, which would not be right. Similarly, I am free to follow a religion but may not force my belief on others, or otherwise harm others. This is what Michael Sandel calls the Kantian or deontological (or "obligation-based") view in his book Liberalism and the Limits of Justice.
On the other hand, it is also possible to place the self much closer to its circumstances. According to this view we are defined to a large extent by our backgrounds and contingencies. The decision of how to live one's life doesn't come from some fathomless void but is rooted in our family, culture, history, group identification, and more. I may choose to be an atheist, but that's because I have been exposed to such ideas and because I come from a society where it is acceptable not to follow a religion. My very life goals come from where I am situated in life--for instance, my life goal may be to be happy, but that may be a foreign idea to individuals from different eras and cultures and it would be foolish to assume the same applies to everyone. This is the teleological ("purpose-based") or communitarian view of humanity and the self.
Apply these ideas to Tosk's story and you can see how they fit. The way I see it, you can get four outcomes depending on what viewpoint you apply and how you see the character's situation.
First, we could look at him through a deontological lens and assume Tosk is a rational actor. In this case, his decision to return to his homeworld and a life of shame is his choice to make. We may see it as an injury but he injures no one but himself, and he has decided for himself the good and bad in his life. This seems to be the Federation's stance--if he won't apply for asylum, he is free to go home.
However, you might argue, Tosk is not truly free. Under this view, we continue to use the deontological lens but see Tosk as impaired or immature due to his upbringing as trained prey. Thus he falls into the exception to freedom for mental patients or children. Since he is not fully rational, others may take charge of him against his will until and unless he gains his faculties, maybe by exposure to how good life can be with a future to look forward to outside the bloody game of pursuit and death. This is a view that O'Brien, and other do-gooders, might be tempted to take in order to protect the oppressed who have internalized their oppression.
Third, we'll take off the deontological lens and apply the teleological one instead. Under this view, Tosk is not a wandering mote floating in a universe of infinite choices but rather a person whose sense of self and purpose was shaped by his specific culture and society. He takes pride in being swift, capable, and secretive, the best prey that he can be. He accepts both the honor of glorious death and the ignominy of live capture because those are the terms of his very existence. What should our ideas of a good and comfortable life mean to him? He has no frame of reference to find meaning in our ideas, and vice versa. This is the way Tosk and his society view him.
Fourth and last, let's not use either deontology nor teleology, at least exclusively, but rather look at community in a broad sense--not just O'Brien's world, not just Tosk's, but at these two individuals, their odd friendship that is a bridge not only across worlds but worldviews. The episode is in many ways a conversation across a gulf that is both narrow and infinitely wide.
The true story of "Captive Pursuit" is that these two individuals from vastly different worlds, with different ideas about themselves and their societies, come to an understanding. O'Brien goes from seeing Tosk as an object of protection to respecting him as someone with purpose, agency, and selfhood. Tosk goes from seeking O'Brien as an outsider to a friend, or fellow Tosk in his framework of understanding.
Despite wanting the best for Tosk, therefore, O'Brien doesn't choose to enforce his own cultural standards on Tosk, say by arguing that the guy is brainwashed and unable to make his own decisions (see second outcome, above). Rather he helps Tosk pursue his own vision of life, one that he might not agree with but comes to accept for his friend.
The result is neither purely deontological nor teleological, but rather one that allows both characters to stay true to their values while reaching out across the gulf of ideas--one that turned out to be as intimately close, and as unimaginably wide, as the lengths of two hands reaching out and clasping in friendship and in understanding.
Though this is very much an O'Brien episode, the rest of the regular cast played lively supporting roles. I particularly liked how the script built up to Sisko's crucial assist of O'Brien by showing the Commander's sense of timing beforehand. It was as though the station were a symphony, an endeavor of cooperation and trust conducted by a virtuoso. That trust didn't budge even when Sisko chewed O'Brien's head off at the end for his actions. If the result of such ability and camaraderie is an episode like "Captive Pursuit," that's certainly the kind of music I'd like to hear more of.
"Captive Pursuit," however, is notable for punching me right in the ivory tower without being dull at all. Hoo boy, is it not.
The central dilemma of the story relates closely to an issue that I'm very interested in these days: Is there one right standard to treat every person, or is the standard contingent on the person's society and background?
We often apply this question to real-life issues, most notably when we talk about the role culture in a pluralistic society. Should women be allowed to wear burqas in public? Is female genital mutilation an acceptable practice? Should children be allowed religious exemption from public education? Should religious views be taught in public school classrooms?
There are two main schools of thought on these issues. One is universalism, that everyone should be treated by the same standard of personal freedom. The other is cultural relativism, that standards of good and bad and right or wrong are determined by a person's background. Relativism, in fact, casts doubt on the very idea of a universal standard. Isn't what we call the liberal or enlightened standard just another product of a specific culture, the industrialized West?
Both positions have their drawbacks. Universalism at the extreme can turn to imperialism: These savages just don't know better so we'll make them better, and kill them for it if we have to. Relativism in the extreme is, well, relativist, and can end up tolerating or even excusing abhorrent practices like slavery and mutilation.
"Captive Pursuit" does an excellent job of bringing these issues to the forefront by presenting the viewer with a culture that most viewers, and for that matter the main characters, find repulsive. This race creates and raises sentient beings, the Tosk, solely for the purpose of hunting them down. The Tosk are sworn to secrecy about their identity and purpose, and if captured alive are condemned to a lifetime of degradation. That is the unenviable choice facing a Tosk in life: Die violently in the pursuit or live as the lowest of the low.
What can a society like the Federation, which prides itself on both its enlightenment and its diversity, do when it comes into contact with a society like that? IDIC would put the kibosh on imperialism, and indeed even interference.
What the Federation does offer is a loophole: It's not about to invade the Tosk's Gamma Quadrant homeworld in order to free the sentient prey, and it won't refuse to return a captive Tosk when asked (despite the lifetime of suffering and humiliation he has to look forward to). There is, however, the option of asylum for persecuted persons who make it into Federation space. This is the option our Tosk is offered.
If Tosk had accepted, it would have been a straightforward happy ending, hurray Federation values and all that. It doesn't really solve the problem for all the other Tosk back on the Gamma Quadrant, and in fact it looks like that option is closed off in the future because the Alpha Quadrant will now be declared off-limits for the hunt. Still, at least our guy, an odd yet endearing figure with his combination of deadly abilities and seeming innocence, would have been saved.
The episode, of course, gets interesting because Tosk refuses the offer, with all the troubling implications that follow. For all his born-and-bred survival abilities there's something childlike about the guy, as though he has led a highly sheltered existence. The reality backs up that impression: By the lead hunter's own admission Tosk knows nothing except being prey in his world's intergalactic bloodsport.
This brings us to the question: Where is the self located? This is about locating the point where we understand what is right or wrong, and how we decide what is good or bad in our own lives. It's the Archimedean point where we set the lever to move the earth, or our lives. It's a question that overlaps the positions on culture discussed above, though not in a neat one-on-one match. (We can discuss that in the comments if you want; this review is already way too long.)
The industrialized and democratic world is used to the idea that the self is, or should be, independent of its circumstances and makes its decisions according to a single standard of right or wrong, that of freedom. You are free to make decisions on what is good or bad within the constraints of what is right. It doesn't matter what culture or circumstances you come from, you are free to choose your own destiny so far as the decision respects others' rights to do the same.
So, for instance, I am free to decide to be an atheist rather than follow a religion because I think being an atheist is a greater good for me. However, I may not abolish religion because that would interfere with other people's choice of what is good for them, which would not be right. Similarly, I am free to follow a religion but may not force my belief on others, or otherwise harm others. This is what Michael Sandel calls the Kantian or deontological (or "obligation-based") view in his book Liberalism and the Limits of Justice.
On the other hand, it is also possible to place the self much closer to its circumstances. According to this view we are defined to a large extent by our backgrounds and contingencies. The decision of how to live one's life doesn't come from some fathomless void but is rooted in our family, culture, history, group identification, and more. I may choose to be an atheist, but that's because I have been exposed to such ideas and because I come from a society where it is acceptable not to follow a religion. My very life goals come from where I am situated in life--for instance, my life goal may be to be happy, but that may be a foreign idea to individuals from different eras and cultures and it would be foolish to assume the same applies to everyone. This is the teleological ("purpose-based") or communitarian view of humanity and the self.
Apply these ideas to Tosk's story and you can see how they fit. The way I see it, you can get four outcomes depending on what viewpoint you apply and how you see the character's situation.
First, we could look at him through a deontological lens and assume Tosk is a rational actor. In this case, his decision to return to his homeworld and a life of shame is his choice to make. We may see it as an injury but he injures no one but himself, and he has decided for himself the good and bad in his life. This seems to be the Federation's stance--if he won't apply for asylum, he is free to go home.
However, you might argue, Tosk is not truly free. Under this view, we continue to use the deontological lens but see Tosk as impaired or immature due to his upbringing as trained prey. Thus he falls into the exception to freedom for mental patients or children. Since he is not fully rational, others may take charge of him against his will until and unless he gains his faculties, maybe by exposure to how good life can be with a future to look forward to outside the bloody game of pursuit and death. This is a view that O'Brien, and other do-gooders, might be tempted to take in order to protect the oppressed who have internalized their oppression.
Third, we'll take off the deontological lens and apply the teleological one instead. Under this view, Tosk is not a wandering mote floating in a universe of infinite choices but rather a person whose sense of self and purpose was shaped by his specific culture and society. He takes pride in being swift, capable, and secretive, the best prey that he can be. He accepts both the honor of glorious death and the ignominy of live capture because those are the terms of his very existence. What should our ideas of a good and comfortable life mean to him? He has no frame of reference to find meaning in our ideas, and vice versa. This is the way Tosk and his society view him.
Fourth and last, let's not use either deontology nor teleology, at least exclusively, but rather look at community in a broad sense--not just O'Brien's world, not just Tosk's, but at these two individuals, their odd friendship that is a bridge not only across worlds but worldviews. The episode is in many ways a conversation across a gulf that is both narrow and infinitely wide.
The true story of "Captive Pursuit" is that these two individuals from vastly different worlds, with different ideas about themselves and their societies, come to an understanding. O'Brien goes from seeing Tosk as an object of protection to respecting him as someone with purpose, agency, and selfhood. Tosk goes from seeking O'Brien as an outsider to a friend, or fellow Tosk in his framework of understanding.
Despite wanting the best for Tosk, therefore, O'Brien doesn't choose to enforce his own cultural standards on Tosk, say by arguing that the guy is brainwashed and unable to make his own decisions (see second outcome, above). Rather he helps Tosk pursue his own vision of life, one that he might not agree with but comes to accept for his friend.
The result is neither purely deontological nor teleological, but rather one that allows both characters to stay true to their values while reaching out across the gulf of ideas--one that turned out to be as intimately close, and as unimaginably wide, as the lengths of two hands reaching out and clasping in friendship and in understanding.
Though this is very much an O'Brien episode, the rest of the regular cast played lively supporting roles. I particularly liked how the script built up to Sisko's crucial assist of O'Brien by showing the Commander's sense of timing beforehand. It was as though the station were a symphony, an endeavor of cooperation and trust conducted by a virtuoso. That trust didn't budge even when Sisko chewed O'Brien's head off at the end for his actions. If the result of such ability and camaraderie is an episode like "Captive Pursuit," that's certainly the kind of music I'd like to hear more of.
