I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.--
Percy B. Shelley,
on the inevitable decline of men in his sonnet
Ozymandias.
----
(left to right) Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge and Lieutenant Commander Data----
Star Trek: TNG Season 4 Episode 03 - "Brothers" Prod. code: 177
Airdate: October 8, 1990
[Synopsis
1,
2][
Video]
The most fascinating character in Star Trek's The Next Generation, I find, is
Data. An android with an
Asimovian positronic brain capable of vast computational capabilities and heuristic learning, he is most notably capable of the full range of human consciousness, save for the single, but significant absence of emotion. But more than that, not unlike the Tin Woodman's search for a heart in the
Wizard of Oz, Data's quest to understand and achieve humanity - something that cannot quite be said of most humans that I know! - underscores the entire series and the films. It is a theme that is concinnous with the humanistic message of Star Trek.
Like
Spock in The Original Series, Data is seen to "have brought an outsider's perspective on humanity" to the crew of the
Enterprise and to us, the audience. Due to his plight and the very nature of his being, Data raises many philosophical questions throughout the series. The particular issue I am keen on exploring today, however, is not one that concerns his predicament directly, although I will definitely be returning to some of those in the future. It is also not an issue central to this episode.
As an introduction of sorts, here are the relevant details of the plot:
Save for an almost-identical "brother", Lore, as far as is known, Data is the only known android in the universe. They were both created by a human cyberneticist, Dr Noonien Soong, who went missing shortly after their creation. First found on a destroyed outpost by
Starfleet personnel, Data was reactivated, raised and trained by them, finally receiving his posting aboard the Enterprise. Lore's backstory is irrelevant for the purposes of this discourse, but he is generally not known to be in existence.
In this episode, an alive but dying Soong activates a recall program within Data from across the universe by remote, in the hope of putting the finishing touch to him - a unique "emotion chip". Data arrives at Soong's hermitage. Never having met his creator before, Data asks Soong why he was made. Song answers this in a roundabout way.
Data: Why did you create me?
Soong: Why does a painter paint? Hmm? Why does a boxer box? You know what Michelangelo used to say? That the sculptures he made were already there before he started, hidden in the marble. All he needed to do was - fwwwht - remove the unneeded bits. Wasn't quite that easy with you, Data. But the need to do it, my need to do it, was no different than Michelangelo's need. Now let me ask you a question. Why are humans so fascinated by old things?
Data: Old things?
Soong: Old buildings, churches, walls, ancient things. Antique things. Tables, clocks, knick-knacks. Why. Why why.
Data: There are many possible explanations.
Soong: If you brought a Noophian to Earth, he'd probably say, "Tear that old village down, it's hanging in rags. Build me something, something new, something efficient!" But to a human, that - that old house, that ancient wall - it's a shrine. Something to be cherished. Again, I ask you, why.
Data: Perhaps, for humans, old things represent a tie to the past.
Soong: Well, what's so important about the past? People got sick. They needed money. Why tie yourself to that.
Data: Humans are mortal. They seem to need a sense of continuity.
Soong: Ahaa. Mm. Why?
Data: To give their lives meaning. A sense of purpose.
Soong: And er - this continuity - does it only run one way? Backwards? To the past?
Data: I suppose it is a factor in the human desire to procreate.
Soong: Oh? So you believe that having children gives humans a sense... of immortality. Do you?
Data: It is a reasonable explanation to your query, sir.
Soong: And to yours as well, Data. ----
The "Immortality Theory", such as it has been named, was presented to me by my dear friend Derrick some time ago. Although the concept was not alien to me, I had neither examined nor expressed it in any cogent form. Upon coming across this scene in "Brothers", however, I felt that it framed the concept so well that it would be a lost opportunity if I failed to marshall my thoughts around it and expound upon them in writing.
I believe very much in this theory because it is so very evident. This is what it states: that the primal, visceral objective in life for all humans is to attain immortality. I say "objective", and not "purpose", because it is not a raison d'être, a reason for being; the quest for immortality gives us purpose, but it is not in itself a purpose. It doesn't explain our existence, but it describes the nature of our existence all too well.
As far as can be ascertained, no human has ever achieved true immortality, and I think we can all agree on that. We are all aware of our mortality. So we settle for what is next best. We endeavour to leave some semblance of ourselves in existence forever, consciously or unconsciously, whether we like it or not, so long as we are alive. We wish that these forms of continuity exist after we have died, so that our presence may be felt in some way for eternity.
[
Forms of continuity]
The most obvious form manifests itself as our progeny. They carry our genetic material - the physical essence of our being. We desire to procreate, to bring life to younger half-versions of ourselves, but there is so much more that we wish to create. Soong mentions painting and sculpture. Art. Another perceivable, physical form. Cue the rest of culture - music, dance, literature, drama, architecture. What about technological achievement and human invention? We see a common theme here, now. These originate from ideas. We leave the perceivable for the conceivable. When ideas are developed and organised, we have ideologies, belief systems and philosophy. What is it that these forms leave behind? Soong mentions a boxer. A boxer wants to win titles, but most of all, like all of us, what he wants is a legacy. And a legacy is in itself another form of continuity. Immortality.
Having identified the quest for immortality as the intent behind our creation of these forms of continuity, it would follow if we were to use it to account for what we do and what is required of us in creating these forms.
Take love, for example. I will not pause to give my opinions on love here, but it is also conceivable that from its noblest to its basest forms, as popularly conceived by human culture, sexual attraction, the courtship and bonding of mates serves to facilitate the process of procreation; we have a desire for love so that we may procreate to produce our progeny. And to best protect our progeny, it is conceivable that we create some type of bond with our own kin, closer than can be afforded to others, and work in concert with them. The inclination to do so might just be our desire _to_ love.
On a larger, less intimate scale, our propensity for group behaviour can be seen as an attempt to assist in the creation of not just our progeny, but many other forms of continuity. I will not give an evolutionary perspective here and you need not agree with one, but the logic is similar. We can live so much better and achieve so much more, create more forms of continuity - whilst living in stable unions, groups and populations. To fully achieve what we can in our quest for immortality, we need to work, to varying extents, with members of our own kind. We hunt better and farm more efficiently when there is a shared effort or the division of labour. We need more men to build larger structures, more spears to protect ourselves, and more minds to come up with innovative ideas that strengthen society.
[
Origins]
I am not altogether concerned about how our desire for immortality comes about, although reasoned speculation may serve us adequately. The desire to procreate is explained sensibly enough by science. It may be explained in
Darwinian evolutionary terms as the propagation of a species as a means of its continuous survival, or in stricter
Dawkinesque terms, propagation that occurs on a gene level, with our bodies simply existing as automatons, programmed in making populations and environments in which the continuance of the selfish gene is imperative and at an optimum. This would suggest that the essence of the Immortality Theory has its roots at the gene level. I say essence, and not the whole effect of the Theory itself; you may think, perhaps, that I will be attributing the origins of our desire entirely to natural, scientifically-explainable phenomena, but I will not, because I cannot. This is where it gets really interesting. Evolutionary theory promises us answers as to why we have art, music, language and even religious convictions, but it hasn't quite given us these in definite, rigorous terms. The logic is there, but not the algorithms, nor the soundness that comes with hard empricism. Until science catches up or refutes the notion entirely, one cannot simply say that our desire or, indeed, our enduring ability to create art, to speak in languages, for instance, are obviously the byproducts of evolutionary selection.
I am sure, however, that if you are reading this, human, it won't be all that hard for you to relate to the Theory. We are born miserable bastards, we _are_ miserable bastards, and we die miserable bastards, and you know that. In the terrifying, lonely process of living, we strive to achieve many things that are not immediately necessary to our surivival, and you have, too. My point is that we don't need to know how it came about, and our desire to achieve immortality is all too real because we feel it, and see ourselves living it personally everyday. Most tellingly, even if we do come to a point in life where we choose to sever our mortal coils, we almost never go without leaving a trace, without proclaiming in some way, "I was here."
[
Has it done anything for us?]
Man, in all likelihood, will never achieve true immortality, because one first needs to live until the end of time itself, if it exists at all, or through all of time, if it exists cyclically. Would that be any good? I'm not sure if we can even begin conceiving that. We do know, though, that our efforts at seeking out immortality can be at once a magnificent boon or a crippling curse.
It is most deletrious when immortality in its true sense is desired. Long-dead rulers may testify to that, bodies bloated not in death alone but with poisons of their own concoction; look to the toil of their serfs and slaves on monuments of folly, backs bent and limbs broken. Or look no further than the guile of the better part of religions, with their seductive promises of paradise, and the dogma, tribalism, human sacrifice, exploitation, stigmatisation and victimisation that has accompanied their pathological reigns. Even if that angers you, theist readers - bless you - it is with little doubt that religion's little promise of a blessed eternity is, more often than not, exploited by its leaders or rulers of realms.
And all this for naught? The pyramids were built as monuments to eternal life after death, but are really no more than vulgar houses of the dead. Still they stand, testament to our gross hubris and solipsism untill they, too, fall to the ravages of time. "The lone and level sands stretch far away." Every now and again, we forget to heed 'Ozymandias', and look back at idols of the past, not appreciating their folly, but wishing that our own efforts exist for longer they than now do. Futility at such cost.
Yet, I think, our quest is worth it. We only need pay attention to the process, and not its desired end. What would the human experience be like if we never celebrated it in all its vast and desolate wonder? Our forms may not stretch into eternity; the human experience may not last forever. But so long as the forms of our continuity are left in the name of its beauty, it matters not how - we may think about it, or reproduce it on a stage, in a book or within the lines of a paean; we may further it by bringing children to the world who may continue this work - human lives in the present and the near future will be all the more fulfilling and wonderous.
What use immortality?
Dr. Noonien Soong[fin]
Labels: life, poetry and verse, star trek, thoughts
