The Time: 2000 + more years AD
The Place: A Dalek
The
Situation: Mapping the Anatomy of Good
and Evil
In this
episode the Doctor meets up with the Combined Galactic Resistance on the
medical ship Aristotle where they are hiding from a force of Daleks. They have
captured an injured Dalek who by all appearances is ‘good’ – in the sense that
he wishes to exterminate Daleks rather than regular people. But his injuries
are killing him. Knowing what a difference having even one good Dalek might
make, the Doctor agrees to be shrunk and sent into the Dalek’s body to locate
and fix the damage.
“Fantastic idea for a
movie. Terrible idea for a proctologist.”
~The Doctor
The main
conflict in this episode is the classic one of good and evil. What is ‘Good’?
What is ‘Evil’?
The
contrast is placed between two morally dubious characters: The Doctor, and his
patient.
The Doctor
is conflicted because he is one of the most dangerous people in the universe: a
justified racist. Every encounter he has had with the Daleks has asserted their
genocidal, single-minded nature, their disrespect for life and individuality.
This is his first encounter with one who does not fit into that mold, and so he
is now left in the difficult position of overcoming his own racial hatred. It’s
a kind reminder that all judgment is technically prejudice, because things can
always change tomorrow. After seeing a stone fall a thousand times, we are
certain – and right – to act on the notion that gravity will intervene the next
time the stone is dropped. But that does not mean that it can’t float when
dropped. It is just highly improbable. For The Doctor to see a floating Dalek
after 2000 years of seeing them fall, it is the most improbable thing in the
world. He needs one who has has not felt the gravity of the Daleks so deeply.
Knowing
that he needs a companion at his side to govern his nature and hold him back
when his prejudice blinds him, he fetches Clara.
“Yeah, my carer. She
cares so that I don’t have to.”
The Doctor
and his Dalek, Rusty, are greatly similar in the sense that both hate Daleks.
In Rusty this is a malfunction, and to an extent it is also a malfunction in The
Doctor. The racism they share is described as a ‘block’ in their memory filters
that discounts any evidence to the contrary of what they have been told to
believe. In The Doctor it is a malfunction for this block to exist. It the
Dalek it is a malfunction for the block to be removed.
In light of
this, is ‘function’ something that can be an indicator of morality? Is a ‘good’
Dalek one who behaves like a Dalek? Do we only see The Doctor as ‘good’ when he
functions as we expect humans to behave, even if he is not human?
This is the
idea of morality as a social construct. It is very often seen as being the case
in real life, too. Only in very close-minded communities is sex now seen as a
sin if done as an act of pleasure, but even two centuries ago this ban on
pleasure was an idea of the mainstream, and an indication of morality. There
are other constructs we have that allow us to make assertions on people’s moral
nature that are almost certainly a product of social norms, from judgment
passed on piercings to hairstyles to blood types. The question is, is the moral
relativity between the Daleks and everyone else a matter of social norm, or is
there a deeper, more universal measure of morality to direct it?
We get to
see the Doctor portrayed in the light of evil as the Aristotle’s crew descends
through the Dalek’s body. He tells a lie of convenience to a soldier who is about
to be killed by antibodies. He does not mourn the soldier’s death even when
swimming in his digesting proteins. He distrusts and belittles the Dalek as
they converse. The Doctor is always like this, of course, but it is doubly
important in the context of this episode because it strips away what might be
termed as Superficial Morality. It is very easy to judge people as ‘good’
because they are sweet, or polite. But in the end, are these really the
qualities that make a ‘good’ person? Especially a good Doctor? Or do we rather
judge the goodness of a Doctor on its ability to deal with that wonderfully
impossible vow, ‘To do no harm’, and to cure any patient who asks for their
aid?
Bedside
manner isn’t really worth all that much. Treating a patient’s feelings rarely
takes preference over treating their wellbeing.
As the
Dalek is explored further, the reason for its conversion becomes clear. It has
witnessed and processed the memory of the birth of a star – undeniable proof
that the universe itself creates life, and will perpetuate the conditions under
which life will arise. This is an example of another type of morality: Universal
Law. If the universe has an objective contrary to that of any of its internal
forces, that internal force puts itself in competition with the universe, and
is doomed to fail. There is in fact an objective, universal morality which exists outside of social construct. Is it
then moral to side with the will of something so large and undeniable that it
is godlike? Is ‘the will of the universe’ morality?
"Resistance is futile.
Life returns. Life prevails. Resistance is futile.”
Ultimately,
the Dalek cannot be saved. As soon as its injury is healed, the electronic
filters in its memory kick in and it forgets the star birth which led it to
conclude that the Daleks were evil. It’s back to what it always was, led by the
chains of its species and social morality. Exterminate. Exterminate.
Exterminate.
The
significance of this is to point out that there are no ‘fixes’ to make us good
or evil. It isn’t an on-off switch, and even when we are healthy and at our
best, we are still capable of being evil because prejudice is part of our nature, something in our brains that blurs
experiences together to make a firm operating code. It is never a war that can
be fought passively. It is based on active choice.
The Doctor
gives up hope for a little while, until his external conscience reminds him not
to be a racist.
“Is that really what
we’ve learned today? Think about it. Is that what
we’ve learned?
~The Inestimable Clara Oswald
What they
learn inside the Dalek is that Dalek’s are capable of independent thought, but
that independent thought has been stripped from them to make the perfect
soldiers. They have been forced to hold one particular belief, no matter what
changes they perceive in the world around them. They have an engineered
prejudice, an inner code which overwrites their reason and forbids choice.
So long as
they cannot act on their own initiative or learn from the memories incarcerated
in their Cortex Vaults, they remain evil beings. Evil, in other words, is to
take perceptions on the level that they are presented: as orders, as motivators
of instinct, without thinking about them and reaching new conclusions. Evil is the
unthinking prejudice of a soldier, the absence of free will.
“Am I a good man?”
The Doctor
reveals that after going to Scaro and meeting the Daleks, he realized who he
was by knowing he was not them. He positioned himself in direct opposition to
them, knowing that everything they were was everything he hated. This is yet
another type of morality in being the morality of opposition. In a sense it is
an instinctive morality, because it judges right and wrong based on feelings.
But most importantly, it is Subjective morality. It is the act of deciding on
what is right not as social propriety, or as deference to a superior force of
nature, but rather from the perspective of an individual actor set against all
of these things. An individual’s morals are based on choices that are made despite
the pressure of these external forces.
But there’s
a problem that comes with subjectivity: it marks all choices as equal. It
presents the notion that choices are little more than personal opinion, whim
and emotion. If The Doctor’s nature was primarily based on hatred, could he
honestly say his choice was any better than a Dalek’s?
“I see beauty. I see endless, divine
perfection.”
“Make it a part of you. Put it inside of you,
and live by it.”
“I see into your soul, Doctor. I see beauty. I
see divinity. I see… HATRED. Hatred of the Daleks. And it is good.”
Here we see
the war between the subjective hate The Doctor has nurtured, and the objective
acceptance of the perfection of the universe. Both are fighting within him. The
Doctor does hate. By seeing beauty, he admits love. Love and hate are inside of
him simultaneously, fighting for supremacy. He makes a conscious effort to
choose love over hate; peace over war. Understanding over obliteration. In this
the nature of morality cannot be more clear: it is choice. Not only having a
choice, or producing choices, but in making a choice you can live with. The
Doctor’s choice is to unite his subjective morality with an objective morality,
claiming one as the other and through it holding himself up to something higher
than race or emotion; he is a scientist. He sees the perfection of the universe
as his own personal perfection.
But Rusty does
not. Even turned into a tool against the Dalek empire, it lets hate dominate
over beauty. It fails to become good, even though it fights evil, because
extermination is more important to it than perfection. It makes the wrong
subjective choice, falling to the trap of believing an objective will has no
relevance.
“I am not a good
Dalek. You are a good Dalek.”
~Rusty
It doesn’t
really matter that the Doctor is flesh and time and the Daleks are pus and
metal: in a similar way that we could speak of Daleks as humane or inhumane,
and endow them with the potential of humanity, they speak of The Doctor as
Dalek, having inside of him the potential for both good and evil. It is
individual choice that makes a person good or evil. Not their race.
A bad wolf
follows the orders of her stomach. A good man chooses its own orders.
Miniaturization?
Symbolically
this looks at the idea of what happens when a body becomes a person’s universe,
the objective “Universal Law” that is one component in choosing moral behavior.
The intention of this is to point out that moral objectivity isn’t only
something that operates out in the world, but inside people, too. The Doctor,
if taken as a follower of objective morality, believes in beauty and perfection
because everything in the world around him gravitates towards beauty and
perfection. But in entering a universal body of a Dalek, everything around him instead
gravitates to disgust and extermination. If he were purely objective, he would
adopt these policies as his guiding laws. Good
becomes the subjective decision to act against the will of the universal Dalek.
It is questionable whether The Doctor would succeed in fighting against this
evil universe if he had not brought his own external (objective) conscience
with him in the form of Clara. He himself sees that his subjective will towards
the Daleks is to commit evil, and if the objective decision too is evil, he has
lost sight of all possibility of good.
Companions as Conscience
A recurring
theme in Doctor Who is in that he lacks the moral centre needed to make good
judgments. This is why he chooses human companions, and debatably, female
companions. Being an immensely ancient and powerful being, there are times when
his bedside manner is truly deplorable, as he has the power to do anything –
anything – and none of the awareness of how it might impact an individual life,
governed by fragmented perceptions (feelings) of what he sees clearly. While he
tackles the big problem of fixing wounds in the galaxy, his companion acts as a
nurse and treats the individuals affected by the problem, just as when
combatting a plague a doctor investigates and fights the symptoms while the
nurse keeps the patients alive long enough to benefit from a cure. Because of
this, they often arise as his best resource for acquiring important details he
may have overlooked in the course of diagnosis, such as in this episode when
Clara points out that when liberated from anatomy, Rusty would act against the
Daleks.
Humans,
perishing little things that we are, imperfect in sense and sensibility, are
the perfect companions for The Doctor, being the emotional or ‘subjective’
component functioning in a universe where he plays as an objective god. Females
are selected over males because they are seen to be more in tune with the
emotional, more likely to use diplomacy and understanding over ‘Soldiering’
when confronted with the unknown. They stand up to him when he is losing his
‘humanity’ rather than blindly following his orders.
This is the
function of a conscience: a con-sci-ence: a complete condition of knowledge, or
a regard of all things. To have an awareness of all factors of the universe,
both very complex and very basic. While The Doctor has a knowledge of complex
things, he could never be accused of being basic. He needs a human for that. Together they form conscience, making
good decisions for the patient and for their condition.
Aristotle: Medicine & Ethics
The medical
spacecraft where this episode takes place is called the Aristotle, named
(presumably) for the forefather of the scientific movement. Aristotle did not
make his mark on medicine so much as he did on ethics. But it is important to
note how deeply the two are entwined. Who is put in the position of doing more
good or harm to an individual life than a doctor? Doctors blur the line between
good and evil, hurting others in the process of healing them. Sometimes they
are even called upon to fix things that are not broken, and are faced with the
ethics of changing a person’s nature to be socially acceptable, even if doing
so is against that person’s will. This episode cleverly portrays the obscurity
of morality through the practice of medicine.
Particular
to this episode, Aristotle’s concept of Ergon is exhibited, the idea that all
things have a proper function and are judged as ‘good’ by adhering to it. A
good pencil writes marvelously without splintering or needing to be sharpened
regularly. A good poison kills efficiently and with the required amount of
suffering. Ergon is goodness as functionality. In this sense, Daleks are good
by exterminating efficiently. The Doctor’s haunting question, “Am I a good
man?” takes on a darker edge: does he possess any of the qualities of a
functional human being? Can he even pretend to be one? Or is he so utterly
alien as to be unable of even knowing what is right by other species?
To continue
the course in Aristotelian ethics we have Logos, or Reason, which is taken as
the correct framework for the animating spirit of man. In a sense this spirit
it the ‘objective’, or the ‘form’ common to all men, oftentimes contradicted by
the ethics of contextual decisions. An ideal human does not hack off people’s
limbs. But a doctor might, to stop an infection. This is Phronesis, practical
wisdom under which decisions can be made in the grey between Logos and Ergon.
Recap on Subjectivity and Objectivity:
Subjectivity – The
belief that the Subject of the universe is the Self, or the Observer, or the
Decision-Maker (in brief, You, reader). All other things in existence are
objects on which the Subject acts.
Objectivity – The
belief that the Subject of the universe is external to the Self. The self and
other things in existence are all objects, acting according to the will of a
conceptual Subject.
While some
might say “Well it’s all perspective, innit?” it really isn’t. Yes, we all make
decisions. But who we are to begin with is entirely a sum of nature and nurture,
determined by contact with objects around us and our ability to reason out
their meaning. Rebellion to an Objective Subject is based on the failure to
reason, and while it is entertaining resistance is ultimately futile and a
predetermined failure, just as if at this very moment you chose never to
urinate again. Objects act against others until logic forces an assertion of
universal will. While an illusory freewill gives us all an impression of being
a Subjective Subject, it is an awareness of the limitations of choice that
offer a counterexample, and an ultimate truth: what is Subjective and acts askew
to the Objective is suicidal, whether as an individual or as a society, such as
in the Dalek Empire. What is done from a Subjective vantage aligned with the Objective
may temporarily fail but will ultimately succeed, promoting life, longevity,
and perfection.
PINK
Clara is
joined in this episode by a new love interest: ‘Rupert’ Danny Pink, who
ironically enough used to be a soldier. The Doctor hates soldiers for the same
reason he hates Daleks: they kill indiscriminately, following orders rather
than making choices themselves, and they destroy things they do not fully
understand (most soldiers die in Doctor Who, and in many cases are killed by
things acting in self-defense. Many, but not all. When they shoot at things
they don’t understand that really are
trying to kill them, the Doctor is reasonably quiet.)
Pink is an
interesting mess of emotions. On the one hand he respects soldiers (markedly
distinct from the officers who direct them), and on the other he is wracked by
guilt for accidentally shooting a civilian in the war. He rejects the idea that
the only purpose soldiers serve is killing, and makes it known that he spent
much of the war digging wells in drought areas.