F IGH T I NG FOR T H E F U T U R E

Liverpool Science Fiction Texts and Studies, 67

 Liverpool Science Fiction Texts and Studies

Editor David Seed, University of Liverpool

Editorial Board
Mark Bould, University of the West of England
Veronica Hollinger, Trent University
Rob Latham, University of California
Roger Luckhurst, Birkbeck College, University of London
Patrick Parrinder, University of Reading
Andy Sawyer, University of Liverpool

Recent titles in the series

47. Sonja Fritzsche, The Liverpool Companion to World Science Fiction Film
48. Jack Fennel: Irish Science Fiction
49. Peter Swirski and Waclaw M. Osadnik: Lemography: Stanislaw Lem in
the Eyes of the World
50. Gavin Parkinson (ed.), Surrealism, Science Fiction and Comics
51. Peter Swirski, Stanislaw Lem: Philosopher of the Future
52. J. P. Telotte and Gerald Duchovnay, Science Fiction Double Feature:
The Science Fiction Film as Cult Text
53. Tom Shippey, Hard Reading: Learning from Science Fiction
54. Mike Ashley, Science Fiction Rebels: The Story of the Science-Fiction
Magazines from 1981 to 1990
55. Chris Pak, Terraforming: Ecopolitical Transformations and Environmentalism
in Science Fiction
56. Lars Schmeink, Biopunk Dystopias: Genetic Engineering, Society,
and Science Fiction
57. Shawn Malley, Excavating the Future: Archaeology and Geopolitics
in Contemporary North American Science Fiction Film and Television
58. Derek J. Thiess, Sport and Monstrosity in Science Fiction
59. Glyn Morgan and Charul Palmer-Patel, Sideways in Time:
Critical Essays on Alternate History Fiction
60. Curtis D. Carbonell, Dread Trident: Tabletop Role-Playing Games
and the Modern Fantastic
61. Upamanyu Pablo Mukherjee, Final Frontiers: Science Fiction
and Techno-Science in Non-Aligned India
62. Gavin Miller, Science Fiction and Psychology
63. Andrew Milner and J.R. Burgmann, Science Fiction and Climate Change:
A Sociological Approach
64. Regina Yung Lee and Una McCormack (eds), Biology and Manners:
Essays on the Worlds and Works of Lois McMaster Bujold
65. Joseph S. Norman, The Culture of ‘The Culture’: Utopian Processes in
Iain M. Banks’s Space Opera Series
66. Jeremy Withers, Futuristic Cars and Space Bicycles: Contesting the Road in
American Science Fiction
 F IGH T I NG FOR
THE FUTURE

Essays on Star Trek: Discovery

SA BR I NA M I T T ER M EI ER
A N D M A R EI K E SPYCH A L A

L I V ER POOL U N I V ERSI T Y PR ESS

 First published 2020 by
Liverpool University Press
4 Cambridge Street
Liverpool
L69 7ZU

Copyright © 2020 Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala

The right of Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala to be identified

as the editors of this book has been asserted by them in accordance with
the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a

retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior
written permission of the publisher.

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ISBN 978-1-78962-176-1 cased

epdf ISBN 978-1-78962-756-5

Typeset by Carnegie Book Production, Lancaster

 To our Star Trek family (in all its iterations),
and especially Ken Mitchell who reminds us that
all we have is time.
 Contents

Contents

Preface: Unheimlich Star Trek 1

Sherryl Vint

Introduction: ‘We Get to Reach for the Stars’: Analyzing Star

Trek: Discovery 5
Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala

‘Boldly Going Where No Series Has Gone Before?’ –

Discovery’s Role Within the Franchise and Its Discontents

Looking in the Mirror: The Negotiation of Franchise Identity in

Star Trek: Discovery 21
Andrea Whitacre

A Star Trek About Being Star Trek: History, Liberalism, and

Discovery’s Cold War Roots 41
Torsten Kathke

The Conscience of the King – Or: Is There in Truth No Sex

and Violence? 61
John Andreas Fuchs

These are the Voyages? The Post-Jubilee Trek Legacy on the

Discovery, the Orville, and the Callister 81
Michael G. Robinson
viii FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘Just as Repetition Reinforces Repetition, Change Begets

Change’ – Modes of Storytelling in Canon and Fanon

From Series to Seriality: Star Trek’s Mirror Universe in the

Post-Network Era 105
Ina Batzke

‘Lorca, I’m Really Gonna Miss Killing You’: The Fictional Space
Created by Time Loop Narratives 127
Sarah Böhlau

Discovery and the Form of Victorian Periodicals 145

Will Tattersdill

To Boldly Discuss: Socio-Political Discourses in Star Trek:

Discovery Fanfiction 165
Kerstin-Anja Münderlein

‘Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations?’ –

Negotiating Otherness in Star Trek: Discovery
Afrofuturism, Imperialism, and Intersectionality
Interview with Dr. Diana A. Mafe on ‘Normalizing Black
Women as Heroes’ 191

The Cotton-Gin Effect: An Afrofuturist Reading of

Star Trek: Discovery 201
Whit Frazier Peterson

The American Hello: Representations of U.S. Diplomacy in Star

Trek: Discovery 221
Henrik Schillinger and Arne Sönnichsen

‘Into A Mirror Darkly’: Border Crossing and Imperial(ist)

Feminism in Star Trek: Discovery 243
Judith Rauscher
 contents ix

Interrogating Gender
Star Trek Discovers Women: Gender, Race, Science, and
Michael Burnham 267
Amy C. Chambers

Not Your Daddy’s Star Trek: Exploring Female Characters in

Star Trek: Discovery 287
Mareike Spychala

‘We Choose Our Own Pain. Mine Helps Me Remember’: Gabriel

Lorca, Ash Tyler, and the Question of Masculinity 307
Sabrina Mittermeier and Jennifer Volkmer

Queering Star Trek

‘Never Hide Who You Are’: Queer Representation and

Actorvism in Star Trek: Discovery 331
Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala

‘I Never Met a Female Michael Before’: Star Trek: Discovery

between Trans Potentiality and Cis Anxiety 351
Si Sophie Pages Whybrew

Veins and Muscles of the Universe: Posthumanism and

Connectivity in Star Trek: Discovery 373
Lisa Meinecke

Coda: Star Trek and the Fight for the Future 391
Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala

Notes on Contributors 393

Acknowledgments 399

Index 401
 Preface
Unheimlich Star Trek
Sherryl Vint

From its first moments, it is clear that Star Trek: Discovery (2017–ongoing)
strives to be something new, to reinvent and reinvigorate the Star Trek
mythos for the twenty-first century. It opens not with the Federation,
but with pre-unification Klingons and its first scene is spoken in Klingon
with English subtitles (‘The Vulcan Hello,’ 1x01). The first scene with
Federation personnel seems designed to put the audience at ease in a
familiar Star Trek environment: Captain Philippa Georgiou (Michelle
Yeoh) and her Number One, Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green),
are on an away mission to aid a pre-warp civilization. They casually
banter as they find their way to a well that has become sealed, which
they will prime to flow again and thus save from extinction the planet’s
native species, all accomplished without making contact so as not to
violate the prime directive (general order #1) of non-intervention in
other cultures.
Both of these first two scenes prepare the audience for a new
perspective on the Federation, in ways that are only fully apparent upon
subsequent viewing. In the first, the Klingons rally together against
the threat they see in contact with those who bring the threatening
greeting, ‘we come in peace.’ In the second, a peculiar precision that
fans have come to associate with Star Trek, especially characters such as
the logical Spock (Leonard Nimoy) or the android Data (Brent Spiner),
dominates: the coming storm will arrive in one hour, 17 minutes and
22 seconds, the coming drought will last for 89 years, and a phaser
burst of 0.17 seconds at level 14.5 is required to release the water from
the well. Although this last proves exactly right, the storm approaches
much more quickly than predicted, disrupting communications and
requiring Georgiou to outline the Star Trek insignia via footprints in
the sand so they can be evacuated. This image, just before the opening
credits, encapsulates the project of Star Trek: Discovery – the outlines of
the familiar Federation are there, but written in an unstable medium

1
2 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

and subject to change. Visible only from the air, this symbol tells us
that everything is about perspective.
And changing our perspective on the Star Trek universe is precisely
what this series is about. Roughly contemporary with The Original Series
(TOS) in canon timeline, Discovery sets out ambitiously to perpetuate all
that is most beloved and culturally valuable about the franchise – its
interest in social justice and equality, its utopian vision of a future of
prosperity and inclusion, its commitment to pushing the boundaries of
media diversity – while at the same time acknowledging the ways that
the franchise’s embrace of mainstream liberalism has allowed it to be
complicit in white supremacist and imperialist ideologies. The Klingons
are not wrong when they recognize the lie in the Federation’s claim to
come entirely in peace, given the Federation’s blithe presumption of the
superiority of their own cultural value, which are foundationally those
of middle-class American whiteness. Discovery takes us back to the early
days of the Federation, in diegetic and franchise timelines, to offer us a
new vantage point on the Federation as a vision of the future.
By episode 2, we leave the familiar Star Trek milieu and enter an
unfamiliar and disconcerting Star Trek at war: while Burnham discussed
getting her own command in the first episode, by the second she is a
disgraced traitor, seemingly imprisoned for life. The science exploration
vehicle Discovery is repurposed as a military flagship. Georgiou is dead
and, instead, we have Captain Lorca (Jason Isaacs), an authoritarian who
commands with a subtle malice that seems uncomfortably non-Star Trek.
When I first watched ‘The Vulcan Hello’ I wanted to immerse
myself into the comfortable Star Trek universe, to see how Michelle
Yeoh’s Captain Georgiou would build upon the model of integrity and
principle embodied by Captain Picard (Patrick Stewart), my favorite of
the franchise’s captains. It was the Star Trek I wanted, but it was not
the Star Trek I needed.
Rather, as the insightful and original essays collected here demonstrate,
by wrenching viewers away from the familiar, Discovery has been able
both to critique limitations of the franchise narrative as it unfolded
and find new and better ways to embody the ideal of a better future
that has always been at the franchise’s core. Putting a woman of color
at the center of a Star Trek series requires more than just the optics of
leadership, the strategy adopted by Deep Space Nine (1993–1999) and
Voyager (1995–2001), of widening the parameters of who is viewed as the
fundamental moral agent without questioning the qualities deemed to
mark one as thus central. With Burnham and with the prominent role
the Mirror Universe plays in the first season, Discovery actively questions
how and why the Federation should be valued, revealing the darker side
 UNHEIMLICH STAR TREK 3

of liberal humanism and its connection to Cold War politics, as Fighting

for the Future ably demonstrates.
With essays on questions of race and racialization, sexuality and the
politics of gender identification, and the new storytelling possibilities
of television in the post-network era, this volume shows how Discovery
engages the history of the Star Trek canon and reinvents the series
through the new critical perspectives of twenty-first century cultural
politics. These are smart discussions not only of Discovery and its themes,
but of the central place the Star Trek franchise has occupied in utopian
visions of the future, both for better and for worse.
In ‘Lights and Shadows’ (2x07), Tyler (Shazad Latif) suggests,
‘We’re in the middle of a fight for the future’ as a way to describe the
interventions made by the Red Angel. This is also an apt tag line for the
place of Discovery in the Star Trek canon. The series does not always get
it right, as the careful critiques collected here reveal, but it does more
than simply update the franchise for the new television landscape that
calls for more ambiguity, for antiheroes, and for ‘gritty’ reboots such
as Ron Moore’s Battlestar Galactica (2003–2012). Certainly, Discovery does
these things, but it also continues to fight for the better future that Star
Trek has long emblematized in the public imaginary. It strives to be a
little less naïve and a little more realpolitik than its predecessor, but the
overwhelming desire for the Federation insignia to continue to symbolize
a future of justice, inclusivity, and peace remains. Both familiar and
strange, Star Trek: Discovery encourages us to ask questions about means
and ends along the path to this future, to recognize the costs attendant
to the project of modernity that were cloaked for Roddenberry and
other showrunners who could not see the damage inherit in race-blind,
supposedly neutral visions of future humanity.
Fighting for the Future illuminates both the familiar and the uncanny
in how Discovery revisits and reinvents the franchise. As these essays
show, we may not always feel at home when watching the series, but
such discomfort may well be its most important affect.

Episodes Cited

‘The Vulcan Hello.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller and
Akiva Goldsman, directed by Davis Semel, CBS Television Studios,
24  September, 2017.
‘Light and Shadows.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Ted Sullivan and Vaun
Willmott, directed by Marta Cunningham, CBS Television Studios,
28  February, 2019.
4 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Star Trek: The Original Series. 1966–1969. Gene Roddenberry. Desilu

Productions, Paramount Television.
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. 1993–1999. Rick Berman and Michael Piller.
Paramount Television.
Star Trek: Voyager. 1995–2001. Rick Berman, Michael Piller, and Jeri Taylor.
Paramount Television.
Battlestar Galactica. 2004–2009. Ronald D. Moore and David Eick. David
Eick Productions.

Introduction
 Introduction
‘We Get to Reach for the Stars’
Analyzing Star Trek: Discovery
Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala

Fighting for the Future: Essays on Star Trek: Discovery brings together 18
essays engaging with Star Trek: Discovery (2017–ongoing), the newest
series in the long-running and influential Star Trek franchise (at the time
of writing). It collects contributions from a variety of disciplines, such as
cultural studies, literary studies, media studies, fandom studies, history,
and political science that engage with aspects such as representations of
gender, shifts in storytelling, race, and depictions of diplomacy, often in
contrast to older entries into the Star Trek canon.
Unlike the three feature films (Star Trek, 2009; Star Trek: Into Darkness,
2013; and Star Trek: Beyond, 2016) produced between the final episode
of Star Trek: Enterprise (2001–2005) and the arrival of Star Trek: Discovery,
which focus on and reimagine iconic characters like Captain Kirk
(Chris Pine), Spock (Zachary Quinto), and Dr. McCoy (Karl Urban)
in an alternate timeline, the first two seasons of Star Trek: Discovery
present a prequel set ten years before the events covered by Star Trek:
The Original Series (1966–1969). Through two self-contained narrative
arcs, the first centered on the war between the Klingon Empire and
the United Federation of Planets and the second on the investigation
of seven mysterious signals, a being referred to as ‘the Red Angel,’ and
the struggle against a rogue A.I., explore the road leading up to the
utopian future fans and critics have come to expect from the franchise.
As producer and writer Ted Sullivan stated in an interview with Wired
(Kamen, 2017):

We’re trying to do a Star Trek that represents modern day society,

which is we have to find a way to interact and learn and be and
coexist … Our hope is that this story represents where we are, and
where we can go, in a hopeful way because Star Trek at it’s [sic]
core is a very hopeful series.

5
6 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Another marked difference between Discovery and the above movies

is that the latter fall squarely into the trends David M. Higgins has
outlined, especially ‘the trope of the alien encounter’ which, he argues,
‘is reformulated and redeployed … to address an environment of
spectacular and indeterminate omnicrisis’ (2015, 45). What is more, the
first two of these movies do not expand the existing canon so much as
they present an alternate timeline in which some of the events known
to fans from the original Star Trek and older movies, such as Star Trek
II: The Wrath of Khan (1982), are revisited.
Star Trek: Discovery (DSC) repeatedly gestures to and evokes these
older iterations of the franchise, but nonetheless presents its own take
on it, updating, for example, the look of the Klingons and the interior
of the ships for the visual tastes of the twenty-first century. The show’s
evocation of Star Trek canon is maybe most obvious in the second part
of the first season when the characters are stranded in the so-called
Mirror Universe, a parallel universe first visited in the 1967 episode
‘Mirror, Mirror’ (2x04) that presents the dystopian alternative to the
idealized future presented from the original Star Trek onwards. Through
this contrast, Discovery further complicates the questions of good and evil,
friend or foe, already raised by the war storyline dominating the first
half of the season. In season two, the show goes one step further and
adds a young Spock (Ethan Peck) as well as other characters featured
in TOS and even the Enterprise-A to the mix.
As every new Star Trek show since the end of TOS, DSC has been met
with intense scrutiny from fans and critics alike. This scrutiny began even
before the first episode aired in September 2017, after promotional material
revealed that the show’s lead character, Michael Burnham (Sonequa
Martin-Green), would not only not be the captain of the eponymous
starship U.S.S. Discovery, but also a black woman. This was heralded as a
continuation of the franchise’s longstanding commitment to diversity, with
Emma-Ann Cranston noting that the human and alien diversity seen on
DSC ‘breaks the stigma surrounding Star Trek’ (2018). Some segments of
the fan base, however, reacted with hostility to precisely this move away
from mostly white and mostly male leads.1 While one could see this
development with Justin Everett as another instance of ‘the reclamation
of Star Trek by its fanbase’ and the fact that ‘Star Trek as a television

1
Star Trek: Voyager’s (1995–2001) Captain Kathryn Janeway (Kate Mulgrew)
is so far the only female Captain featured as a series regular. Benjamin
Sisko (Avery Brooks), an African American man, also fell out of the roster
of the usual idea of a Starfleet captain since he commanded a star base
rather than the usual spaceship on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (1993–1999).
 ANALYZING STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 7

and movie megatext diverged from the fan megatext’ (2007, 195), the
enthusiastic response to the show from the overwhelming number of Star
Trek fans that could be observed in online communities and at conventions
in the United States and Europe rather seems to indicate the franchise’s
continuing resonance with and relevance to its fans and the fan megatext.
Additionally, the backlash against DSC is part of a contemporary dynamic
across a variety of pop culture fandoms in which the increasing inclusion
of women, people of color, and LGBTQ people has repeatedly led to
outpourings of misogynist, racist, and queerphobic hate that were not
always necessarily driven exclusively or even primarily by disgruntled
fans, but more likely by reactionary forces from outside the fandoms. It is
for all of these developments in the ways in which DSC engages with the
Star Trek franchise, changes its storytelling conventions, and reverberates
through the fandom that it warrants academic attention.
Criticism, both from fans and scholars, continued after the first season
of DSC had aired. Lyta Gold (2018), while raising some valid criticisms
– for example the fact that the bridge crew remains underexplored in
the first season – also seems to disregard the larger implications of the
first season’s arc. She laments that

the problem with contemporary SFF [i]s a failure of imagination,

but in the case of Discovery, the problem isn’t a failure as much as
a pointed refusal. The Star Trek template already exists; utopias, …,
are difficult to write, but Star Trek is a plug-and-play. Why refuse
to engage with Roddenberry’s beloved vision, the socialist universe
that inspired contemporary fandom? (2018, n.p.)

What Gold misses is the fact that DSC, in its first season, uses its status
as a prequel to engage with questions of how the Star Trek universe we
know from older series comes to be and how easily that utopian future
might be lost due to complicity and a willingness to sacrifice one’s values
in the name of security. This is especially the case because it turns out
that the ship’s captain, Gabriel Lorca (Jason Isaacs), originally hails from
the Mirror Universe; his influence on Starfleet as well as his ultimately
successful plan to return to his home dimension not only puts his
entire crew at risk, they also invite questions about the moral compass
at the heart of the Star Trek franchise. Lorca’s actions, motivated by his
larger plan to succeed as the ruler of the fascist Terran Empire, recast
and condemn some of his earlier, ambiguous behavior, complicating
the other characters’ and the viewers’ implicit trust in Starfleet and
Starfleet personnel and their willingness to go along with this morally
questionable captain.
8 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Burnham standing up to Admiral Cornwell in the finale of season one

(1x15, ‘Will You Take my Hand?’) is the culmination of this rising doubt
about the direction Starfleet has taken. She insists on the principles of
the Federation and thus echoes earlier such instances in the franchise.
Burnham tells her superior, who at that moment is ready to betray
everything Starfleet and the Federation stand for by committing genocide
against the Klingons: ‘[a] year ago… I stood alone. I believed our survival
was more important than our principles. I was wrong. Do we need a
mutiny today to prove who we are?’ This is reminiscent of Captain
Jean-Luc Picard’s (Patrick Stewart) resistance to orders he receives from
Admiral Dougherty (Anthony Zerbe) in Star Trek: Insurrection (1998):

We are betraying the principles upon which the Federation was

founded. It’s an attack upon its very soul. And it will destroy the
Ba’ku. Just as cultures have been destroyed in every other forced
relocation throughout history … How many people does it take,
Admiral, before it becomes wrong? A thousand? Fifty thousand?
A million? How many people does it take, Admiral? (1998)

Thus, while the tone in DSC’s first season is indeed darker and more
dystopian than what fans and scholars have been used to from most
earlier entries into the franchise’s canon, the show also grapples with
some of the same questions that Star Trek has always asked.
One could even argue that simply focusing on another instance of
the well-known Star Trek utopia in DSC – as Gold and many fans would
have preferred – would have been the easy way out. In keeping with
the preceding Star Trek shows, which, as M. Keith Booker reminds us,
‘ha[ve] always been about the here and now, maintaining an especially
close contact with contemporary reality’ (2018, xix), DSC asks questions
that are born out of the current climate, both the lingering after-effects
of 9/11 and the ‘War on Terror’ – Admiral Cornwell’s speech about the
need to defend the Federation against a possible Klingon attack (1x14,
‘The War Without, the War Within’) seems to echo the Bush doctrine –
and the current right-wing resurgence in the United States and several
European nations. While David Banks notes that ‘[g]ood Trek, pre-9/11
Trek was, at base, all about not even needing optimism because of course
everything would work out: humanity was part of a galactic federation
of peace and exploration’ (2019, n.p.; original emphasis), it can be argued
that the complacent assumption that everything will work out would
be misplaced for a science fiction show written in and addressing the
(political) realities of the twenty-first century. Rather, DSC’s first season
asks and attempts to answer the question ‘What can a climate of war
 ANALYZING STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 9

and insecurity do to even the most utopian civilizations and how do

we counter those developments?’ Ultimately, Star Trek: Discovery serves
as a reminder that the idealistic future so central to Star Trek as a whole
is not a foregone conclusion and that it takes individual and collective
action to arrive at, and preserve, a more hopeful future.
In addition, while it is understandable that some audience members
and scholars miss the more overtly positive notes of earlier Star Trek
shows, it also needs to be asked in how far their assessment of earlier
shows and the topics they dealt with is tinged with nostalgia. Many of
those having grown up watching Star Trek – whether that still meant
TOS, or The Next Generation (TNG), Deep Space Nine (DS9) or Voyager (VOY)
– claimed DSC was simply #NotMyTrek and voiced concern about the
directions the show was taking online, but as is argued by several authors
throughout this volume, this claim is not necessarily true. The Orville
(2017–ongoing), meanwhile fills the void for those longing for the past,
particularly for the TNG era’s Enterprise and its crew, inciting a rivalry
between the two shows; at least for those claiming it, rather than DSC,
is the ‘real’ Star Trek. Without wanting to delve into a deeper discussion
of the underlying ideas of authenticity and the larger repercussions this
might have for the Trek fandom, it seems like this nostalgia is more
overtly catered to in DSC’s second season. The appearance of a young
Spock, as well as Captain Christopher Pike (Anson Mount), Number
One (Rebecca Romijn), and an updated version of the Enterprise – which
painstakingly recreates details of the old set down to the buttons (Trek
Movie, 2019) and leads Mirror Georgiou (Michelle Yeoh) to quip ‘Orange,
really?’ (2x13, ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part One’) – at least seems to suggest
that some of these critical voices were heard by the powers that be.
Yet the show nevertheless manages to avoid some of the retrofuturistic
pitfalls that Enterprise (2001–2005) stumbled into. As Sharon Sharp
points out,

Enterprise’s retrofuturism entails an intertextual revisiting of many of

the visions of the future represented in previous installments of the
Star Trek universe. Enterprise nostalgically appeals to Roddenberry’s
utopian vision of the future. While the last two series, DS9 and
Voyager, explored more dystopian visions of the future, Enterprise
returns to the original series’ humanist visions of technological
progress, where the white captain teaches other alien races thinly
veiled moral lessons about the ‘American Way.’ (2011, 31)

While Pike captains the Discovery for most of season two – together with
First Officer Saru (Doug Jones) in what he calls ‘a joint custody situation’
10 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

(2x01, ‘Brother’) – it is still Michael Burnham who is central to the

season’s plot and its resolution and through whom viewers absorb most
of the points the show tries to make. What is more, the crew’s decision
to accompany Burnham and the Discovery 930 years into the future
in the second season’s finale (2x14, ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part Two’)
for now seems to leave Pike, the Enterprise, and most of the nostalgia
attendant to them, in the past – at least within the scope of Discovery.
Plans to expand the franchise are ever-growing, and the upcoming Star
Trek: Picard (slated to be released in early 2020) seems designed to tap
into this need to relive old times.
Given these constant negotiations with, and interrogations of Star
Trek canon within both its text and paratexts, we have devoted the
first section of this collection to Star Trek: Discovery’s role within the
franchise. The chapters in this section entitled ‘“Boldly Going Where No
Series Has Gone Before?” – Discovery’s Role Within the Franchise and
Its Discontents’ thus engage with the show’s role within canon from a
variety of perspectives and disciplines. Andrea Whitacre’s chapter deals
with how Discovery grapples with the franchise’s identity as a whole;
Torsten Kathke explores Discovery’s Cold War roots and connections to
the original Star Trek series; John Andreas Fuchs engages with the use
of profanity and depiction of violence in the franchise; and Michael
G. Robinson explores the show’s legacy and its ties to two contemporary
homages to Star Trek, The Orville and the Black Mirror (2011–present)
episode ‘U.S.S. Callister.’
A second section entitled ‘“Just as Repetition Reinforces Repetition,
Change Begets Change” – Modes of Storytelling in Canon and Fanon,’
explores the series’ ways of storytelling compared to earlier instalments,
but also the way in which narrativization has generally changed
in television over the past decades (with the advent of recording
devices, cable television, and now, streaming platforms) and how
this shift influences not only character development, but also the
audience’s reception of the series’ characters and its narrative. Ina
Batzke uses the Mirror Universe to interrogate how serialized television
in the post-network era of television affects Discovery. Sarah Böhlau’s
chapter focuses on science fiction’s time-honored tradition of time loop
narratives, analyzing its use in the show’s much lauded seventh episode
‘Magic That Makes the Sanest Man Go Mad’ (2017). Meanwhile, Will
Tattersdill engages with Discovery’s serialized storytelling, by looking
at the same episode and providing a comparison to earlier forms of
periodical science fiction narratives, such as H.G. Wells’s War of the
Worlds (1898). Finally, Kerstin-Anja Münderlein’s chapter analyzes fan
fiction inspired by Discovery and looks at how the wider social and
 ANALYZING STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 11

political issues addressed in the show are taken up and elaborated on

in these fan texts.
As established above, the Star Trek franchise has long been known
for its portrayal of a utopian vision of the future and its commitment
to progressive ideals. Creator and executive producer Gene Rodenberry,
quoted in The Making of Star Trek (1968), described ‘the “message” basic
to the series’ in the following way: ‘“We must learn to live together
or most certainly we will soon all die together”’ (Whitfield, 112) The
original Star Trek is recognized for featuring the first interracial kiss on
American television in the episode ‘Plato’s Step-Children’ (1968, 3x10),
and for featuring an African woman on the bridge with Lieutenant
Uhura (Nichelle Nichols), as well as Japanese and Russian officers with
Lieutenant Sulu (George Takei) and Ensign Chekov (Walter Koenig),
respectively. A few decades after the Second World War and in the
midst of the escalating Cold War, this inclusive group of characters was
chosen deliberately to represent a future in which humans had overcome
the differences shaping the twentieth century. However, much of this
diversity seemed to be ‘cosmetic’ – sexism was often rampant in TOS,
and Nichelle Nichols almost dropped out of the show for lack of character
development, or often even any significant speaking lines. Sexism
continued to be an undercurrent in TNG, where female characters,
particularly in the early seasons seemed to play second fiddle, and racist
or orientalist portrayals of alien species in particular continued in TOS’s
tradition, also outside of the now infamous ‘Code of Honor’ (1x04). This
episode, among others, illustrates Katja Kanzler’s claim that Star Trek,

being a product of the entertainment industry, with its principal

interest in economic success, … will never adopt a radical position
on multicultural issues. It rather articulates what I call a ‘popular
multiculturalism,’ whose structure results, on the one hand, from
Star Trek’s generic and media-related characteristics, and, on the
other hand, from the socio-cultural context of changing public
discourses on ‘race,’ ethnicity, and gender. (2004, 6)

Trek’s continued expansion of its underlying idea of an idealized, equal

future and its use of storylines set in the future to interrogate contem-
porary issues or darker chapters of human history, then, is due to these
‘changing public discourses,’ as Kanzler also notes (6). Notable examples
from subsequent Star Trek series are TNG’s ‘Measure of a Man’ (1989,
2x09), DS9’s two-parter ‘Past Tense’ (1995, 3x11 and 3x12), and VOY’s
‘Nemesis’ (1997, 4x04). Still, as Daniel Bernardi has pointed out, ‘Star
Trek’s liberal-humanist project is exceedingly inconsistent and at times
12 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

disturbingly contradictory’ (211). In light of all these arguments, it is

not surprising that the earlier series and films belonging to the Star Trek
franchise continuously fell short of their stated goal of being inclusive and
representing a wide variety of ethnic groups and other minorities when
it came to, for example, the representation of LGBTQ persons – despite
the efforts by long-time writers such as David Gerrold. While Hikaru
Sulu, one of the characters with the longest history in the franchise,
was revealed as being in a same-sex relationship at the end of Star Trek:
Beyond, the moment was brief. DSC, by contrast, features the franchise’s
first fully-fledged queer characters in the form of (later Lieutenant
Commander) Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) and Dr. Hugh Culber (Wilson
Cruz), and, from the second season onwards, Commander Jett Reno (Tig
Notaro), yet, as several of the chapters in this book also argue, it still
leaves a lot of room for more diverse queer representation.
In other ways, too, DSC is different from former Trek shows and other
contemporary science fiction television. Its first season seemingly starts
out relying on the ‘trope of the alien encounter’ (2015, 45) that Higgins
has detected in most post-9/11 science fiction, and especially on the
persistent representation of alien races as ‘incomprehensibly difficult to
understand’ (2015, 46). Unlike the villains in the movies and television
shows Higgins talks about, however, DSC presents the war from both the
human and the Klingon perspective from the beginning, humanizing
the Klingon characters, and thus complicating the war storyline and
avoiding a representation of them as simply racialized others or villains.
By deliberately blurring the line between humans and Klingons through
the character Ash Tyler (Shazad Latif) in a way that is reminiscent of
the blurred boundaries between humans and robots in Battlestar Galactica
(2004–2009), another recent reboot of a classic science fiction series, DSC
engages with, and dismantles discourses surrounding the Other that are
often present in science fiction in the twenty-first century. Like Battlestar,
DSC ‘explor[es] the possibility that the self/other binary that structures the
show’s central conflict may be artificially constructed, and therefore able
to be transcended’ (Higgins, 2015, 50). While it does so more prominently
in the first season, DSC’s second season also contains several subplots
during which the crew encounters alien species that at first seem like a
threat, until it is revealed that there is a miscommunication or misinter-
pretation of motives. Only in the representation of Control, a rogue A.I.,
in the second half of season two does DSC fall back on older tropes that
frame the Other as incomprehensible threat.2 In this and some other

2
The fact that there was a showrunner change from Gretchen J. Berg and
Aaron Harberts to Alex Kurtzman during the first half of season two after
 ANALYZING STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 13

cases, then, the show still finds itself stuck in Star Trek’s liberal humanist
framework, from which it has so far been unable to disentangle itself
completely. Overall, however, the show’s interrogation of differences and
divisions between the self and the Other on the narrative level is yet
another way in which the series resonates with contemporary political
and cultural debates, continuing the franchise’s commitment to diversity
and progressive storytelling.
Consequently, a significant number of the chapters in this book
engage with issues of diversity and representation in DSC. These
are collected in the third section, ‘“Infinite Diversity in Infinite
Combinations?” – Negotiating Otherness in Star Trek Discovery.’ For the
sake of clarity, this section is divided into three further sub-sections
encompassing chapters on Afrofuturism, the show’s engagement with
gender roles, and its representation of queer characters, respectively.
The first sub-section, ‘Afrofuturism, Imperialism, and Intersectionality,’
includes an interview with Diana A. Mafe that will expand upon her
deeply researched and incisively argued monograph Where No Black
Woman Has Gone Before: Screening Black Femininity in Twenty-First-Century
Speculative Cinema (2018) to include DSC’s lead character Michael
Burnham. Whit Frazier Peterson then presents an Afrofuturist reading
of the series that examines the ways in which it deals with the treatment
of the black body and what he terms the ‘cotton-gin effect.’ Henrik
Schillinger and Arne Sönnichsen focus on the ways in which American
models of diplomacy are reflected in DSC, raising the question whether
the show lives up to the franchise’s progressive reputation. Finally,
Judith Rauscher’s chapter interrogates imperial feminisms, border
crossings, and the politics of race and gender underlying the newest
addition to the Star Trek franchise.
The second subsection, ‘Interrogating Gender,’ collects essays focusing
on representations of gender and gender identities. Amy Chambers traces
the roles of women scientists in Star Trek and science fiction in general,
with a particular focus on Michael Burnham as not only a female, but
a black female scientist. In addition, Mareike Spychala’s analysis of
Discovery’s varied female characters and their departure from existing
archetypes and tropes is complemented by Sabrina Mittermeier and
Jennifer Volkmer’s chapter engaging with two of the show’s male leads,
Gabriel Lorca and Ash Tyler, dealing with its representation of pervasive

the writing staff had complained about abusive behavior might account
for some of the discontinuous and uneven storytelling in season two. It
remains to be seen how this change, and the addition of Michelle Paradise
as second showrunner, will shape the show’s third season.
14 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

ideas of masculinity, and how it subverts and problematizes existing

tropes of the male action hero in film and on television.
In the third of these sub-sections, ‘Queering Star Trek,’ Sabrina
Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala analyze the representation of openly
gay characters in DSC and what could be seen as an explicit and implicit
unearthing of a queer subtext present in the original Star Trek and
subsequent iterations. At the same time, this essay also looks at the
‘actorvism’ of some of the cast members. Highlighting further opportu-
nities for representation in the franchise, Si Sophie Pages Whybrew
explores the ways in which Star Trek has been haunted by the absence
of transgender characters and how DSC might ultimately transcend the
franchise’s and reviewers’ aversion to trans identification. Finally, Lisa
Meinecke analyses the tardigrade, an alien animal featured in the show,
Lieutenant Stamets, and the mycelial network through a transhumanist
lens that relies on the framework of the rhizome.
As these 18 essays and the interview with Diana A. Mafe attest, the
first two seasons of Star Trek: Discovery represent an expansion of the
Star Trek franchise, updating it narratively, via the seasons’ serialized,
self-contained storylines, to appeal to audiences’ changed viewing
habits in the streaming age. In addition, the storylines’ topical nature,
and the broad range of socio-political issues they engage with, allow
for wide-ranging scholarly engagement with and examination of this
relatively new series. As discussed above, Discovery, over the span of
only two seasons and (at the time of writing) roughly two years of
existence, has garnered a lot of praise but also incited controversy, and
the essays we have brought together here in many ways reflect this.
The authors in this collection work in a variety of disciplines, including
American and British cultural and literary studies, political science,
and cultural history. They also come from a variety of European
and North American backgrounds and are at different stages in their
careers. What is more, while they all have a vested interest in Star
Trek, not all of them would describe themselves as fans. This diversity
is reflected in their writing and we, as editors, felt this was important
to preserve in the tone of the essays. As a consequence, not only do
the writing styles across these essays diverge from each other, but so
do the analyses of and opinions about Star Trek: Discovery expressed
in them. What emerges, therefore, is a lively scholarly debate about
a series that has itself already gone through a significant number of
changes and, at times, seems to be engaged in a discussion not only
with the franchise it belongs to, but also with itself. The variety of
approaches and opinions gathered together in this book are a testimony
to this and, at the current moment, when the (narrative) future of
 ANALYZING STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 15

the series is yet again wide open, presenting a multiplicity of voices

seems the only way to fruitfully start discussing it.
So, while the essays collected here represent some of the most salient
angles for investigation that presented itself, several of the authors
gathered here also had to factor out potentially fascinating lines of
analysis for the sake of length. Much like Discovery itself, which seemingly
has revitalized the Star Trek franchise, we see this collection only as a
new starting point for scholarship into this phenomenon and its fans,
both of which are going more boldly than ever before.

Works Cited

David Banks, ‘Some Disconnected Thoughts About Star Trek: Discovery’,

Cyborgology, 18 February (2019), https://thesocietypages.org/cyborgology/
2019/02/18/some-disconnected-thoughts-about-star-trek-discovery/.
Daniel Bernardi, ‘Star Trek in the 1960s: Liberal-Humanism and the
Production of Race’, Science Fiction Studies, 24.2 (1997): 209–25.
M. Keith Booker, Star Trek: A Cultural History (New York: Rowman &
Littlefield, 2018).
Emma-Ann Cranston, ‘Star Trek Discovery: Boldly Going Where No Series
Has Gone Before’, Literary Cultures, 1.2 (2018): n.p., https://journals.ntu.
ac.uk/index.php/litc/article/view/129.
Justin Everett, ‘Fan Culture and the Recentering of Star Trek’, in Lincoln
Geragthy (ed.) The Influence of Star Trek on Television, Film, and Culture
(Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2007): 186–98.
Lyta Gold, ‘The Dismal Frontier’, Current Affairs, 13 May (2018), https://
www.currentaffairs.org/2018/05/the-dismal-frontier.
David M. Higgins, ‘American Science Fiction after 9/11’, in Eric Carl Link
and Gerry Canavan (eds.) The Cambridge Companion to American Science
Fiction (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015): 44–57.
Matt Kamen, ‘Inside Star Trek: Discovery’s mission to bring hope back
to TV’, Wired, 23 September (2017), http://www.wired.co.uk/article/
inside-star-trek-discovery-netflix-uk.
Diana A. Mafe, Where No Black Woman Has Gone Before: Screening Black
Femininity in Twenty-First-Century Speculative Cinema (Austin: University of
Texas Press, 2018).
Sharon Sharp, ‘Nostalgia for the future: Retrofuturism in Enterprise’, Science
Fiction Film and Television, 4.1 (2011): 25–40.
‘How the U.S.S. Enterprise Bridge Was Brought to Life for Star Trek Discovery’,
TrekMovie.com, 12 April (2019), https://trekmovie.com/2019/04/12/
how-the-uss-enterprise-bridge-was-brought-to-life-for-star-trek-discovery/.
Stephen E. Whitfield, The Making of Star Trek (New York: Ballantine, 1968).
16 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Episodes and Films Cited

‘Mirror, Mirror.’ Star Trek, written by Jerome Bixby, directed by Marc

Daniels, NBC, 6 October, 1967.
‘Plato’s Step-Children.’ Star Trek, written by Meyer Dolinsky, directed by
David Alexander, Paramount Television, 22 November, 1968.
‘Code of Honor.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Katharyn
Powers and Michael Baron, directed by Russ Mayberry and Les Landau,
Paramount Television, 12 October, 1987.
‘Measure of a Man.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Melinda
M. Snodgrass, directed by Robert Scheerer, Paramount Television,
13  February, 1989.
‘Past Tense, Pt. 1.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Robert Hewitt Wolfe,
directed by Reza Badiyi, Paramount Television, 8 January, 1995.
‘Past Tense, Pt. 2.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Robert Hewitt Wolfe
and Ira Steven Behr, directed by Jonathan Frakes, Paramount Television,
15 January, 1995.
‘Nemesis.’ Star Trek: Voyager, written by Kenneth Biller, directed by Alexander
Singer, Paramount Television, 24 September, 1997.
‘The War Without, the War Within.’ Star Trek Discovery, written by Lisa
Randolph, Sean Cochran, and Kirsten Beyer, directed by David Solomon,
CBS Television Studios, 4 February, 2018.
‘Will You Take My Hand?’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television Studios,
12 February, 2018.
‘Brother.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron Harberts,
and Ted Sullivan, directed by Alex Kurtzman, CBS Television Studios,
17 January, 2019.
‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part One and Two.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written
by Michelle Paradise, Jenny Lumet, and Alex Kurtzman, directed by
Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 11 April, 2019.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. 1982. Directed by Nicholas Meyer. Paramount
Pictures.
Star Trek: Insurrection. 1998. Directed by Jonathan Frakes. Paramount
Pictures.
Battlestar Galactica. 2004–2009. Directed by Ronald D. Moore and David Eick.
David Eick Productions.
Star Trek: Beyond. 2016. Directed by Justin Lin. Skydance Media.
 ‘Boldly Going Where No Series
Has Gone Before?’ – Discovery’s
Role Within the Franchise and Its
Discontents
 Looking in the Mirror
The Negotiation of Franchise Identity in
Star Trek: Discovery
Andrea Whitacre

Introduction

The opening episodes of Star Trek: Discovery (DSC) establish it as a story

about identity and power, on both fictional and metafictional levels. The
very first scene of the new show invites viewers to examine Starfleet’s
identity from the outside, through the perspective of the Klingon Empire.
Conducted entirely in Klingon with English subtitles, this opening is a
comment on the nature of Starfleet as potential conqueror or colonizer
despite (or rather because of) their ubiquitous friendly greeting: ‘We
come in peace.’ This invitation to question Starfleet’s identity is quickly
linked to Michael Burnham’s (Sonequa Martin-Green) own quest to find
herself, as the episode segues from the Klingon council of war to first
officer Burnham and her captain, Philippa Georgiou (Michelle Yeoh), on
an away mission. Burnham unknowingly echoes the Klingons’ words:
‘We come in peace, that’s why we’re here. Isn’t that the whole idea of
Starfleet?’ It is spoken earnestly, but it is also framed as a question – is
that the whole idea of Starfleet? Burnham’s own identity is also a work
in progress. Georgiou thinks she is ready to command, but their situation
on the planet offers a metaphorical commentary that suggests Burnham
does not quite know yet where or who she is: ‘I trust you with my
life, Commander Burnham,’ says Georgiou, ‘but it doesn’t change the
fact that you are lost. Very lost.’ They are saved when Georgiou marks
their position with a giant Starfleet insignia in the sand for their ship
to locate. The twin openings, pairing xenophobic Klingon skepticism
with utopian Starfleet earnestness, suggest that through this story and
the lens of our main character Starfleet identity is both an object of
critique and the means of salvation.
The metanarrative of the show, especially in its casting and marketing,
aspires to a reinvention of Star Trek’s larger identity as a franchise. The
initial series advertising and interviews showcased the new ground

21
22 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

the show was breaking in casting its first woman of color as a lead
character with Burnham, its first woman of color captain with Georgiou,
and its first gay lead characters with Dr. Hugh Culber and Lieutenant
Commander Paul Stamets, the U.S.S. Discovery’s spore drive specialist.
In another departure from Star Trek precedent and American television
history more generally, both characters are also played by openly gay
actors, Wilson Cruz and Anthony Rapp, respectively.
But the power Burnham has on this metanarrative level contrasts with
her lack of power in the show’s story. Unlike past Star Trek leads, she is
not in a central position of authority within the ship’s hierarchy, or even
an official part of that hierarchy at all. She is a prisoner, serving a life
sentence of labor for Starfleet. The show’s design, in its casting as well as
in its self-critical narrative, is bound up in contradictory representations
of power and its role in Starfleet and Star Trek. Each of those flagship
characters – Burnham and Georgiou, Culber and Stamets – experience
shocking negations of their initial power over the course of the first
season. Burnham loses her position and her freedom. Culber and Stamets
are separated by Culber’s tragic onscreen death. Captain Georgiou does
not even survive the pilot episodes. The Mirror Universe is both the source
and the solution for many of those contradictions, serving not just as an
extended callback to past Treks, but as a tool for mediating what Star Trek
has been and what it wants to become. For each of these characters, the
loss they experience is followed by a renewal and restoration of power.
They die, literally or figuratively, so they can be resurrected.
Much of Star Trek’s recent renewal in film and now on television
has concerned itself with how to portray Trek’s human utopia for a
modern audience. Both the reboot films and season one of DSC share
plotlines in which characters grapple with Starfleet’s military nature.
Star Trek: Into Darkness (2013) explores the way Kirk and his crew deal
with an attempted military exploitation of Starfleet’s mission. In an
interview with the cast on science fiction news site io9, Simon Pegg,
who plays Chief Engineer Montgomery ‘Scotty’ Scott, made his own
tongue-in-cheek critique of the film’s darker tone: ‘I had this idea. I
think we might all be in the Mirror [Universe] crew’ (Anders, 2013).
In the film, Scotty openly questions whether militarism should be part
of Starfleet’s identity: ‘Is that what we are now? Cause I thought we
were explorers.’ Compare the numerous similar expressions of dismay
at the military repurposing of Starfleet in DSC, as in 1x02 when an
injured crewman (Sam Vartholomeos) laments to Burnham, ‘Why are
we fighting? We’re explorers, not soldiers’ (1x02, ‘Battle at the Binary
Stars’). The question could well be posed to the writers of DSC and the
reboot films: why are we fighting? Why is modern Star Trek drawn to
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 23

dystopian military narratives that question the utopian underpinnings

of Starfleet and Star Trek? More and more, Star Trek finds itself turning
to its evil twin universe in order to articulate its own contradictions
and to attempt to earn its utopia.
DSC is a Star Trek reflective of its own origins, seeking both to
reiterate and question the franchise’s guiding principles and the nature
of its utopian subjectivity – a balancing act that is as ambitious as it
is fraught. This reflectiveness finds its literal expression in the Mirror
Universe, through which the characters previously marginalized by the
franchise regain the power they lost in their series introduction. In
this story of mirrors, there exists an inherent duality in the way DSC
wants to explore identity. The show is chewing on a problem of power
inherent to Star Trek: How do you reinvent the franchise’s identity
while remaining recognizably that franchise? How do you rebuild the
house while still living in it? It is the difficulty and complexity of this
challenge that creates duality within this mirrored narrative, in which
marginalized characters earn their redemption – and that of Starfleet
and Star Trek – through suffering, hardship, and even death.

The Mirror Revisited: The History of an Alternate Universe

The Mirror Universe, named for its first appearance in the Star Trek:
The Original Series (hereafter TOS) episode ‘Mirror, Mirror’ (2x04) is
recognizable to longtime viewers by its continuity across Star Trek series
as well as its consistent use of visual imagery: military-style uniforms,
sidearms, and, more dramatic, often darkened, set lighting.1 The Mirror
Universe’s Terran Empire is consistently portrayed as a fascist empire
that sustains itself through military conquest. Junior officers gain
promotion through assassination; their commanders maintain power
through surveillance and torture. Women in the Mirror Universe exert
significant power, but do so primarily through sexual manipulation,
and they are in turn offered to the viewer as a sexualized spectacle
(Cutler-Broyles, 2017, 49). DSC maintains most of these tropes, though
it leans away from the sexualization of women. It also emphasizes more

1
For the purposes of this essay, ‘Mirror Universe’ will refer specifically to
the parallel universe established in the TOS episode ‘Mirror, Mirror,’ while
‘Prime Universe’ will refer to the timeline of the regular series episodes
in all series and in the TOS and TNG films. For all other divergences from
the Prime timeline within Star Trek canon, I will use the term ‘alternate
universe.’
24 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

than any other series the xenophobia of the Empire, articulated in racial
terms as human supremacy over all alien species.
From its origins in TOS, the Mirror Universe has always been a place
for intertextual play between and about the different Star Trek series,
a kind of connective tissue for continuity and meta-commentary. The
extensive use of alternate universes in television shows like Star Trek and
Doctor Who suggests that the trope is particularly suited to long-running
and well-established stories, allowing the internal ‘mirror’ to reflect not
only the social and political situation of contemporary audiences but the
nature of the ‘normal’ world of the television series (Byrne and Jones,
2018, 259). As such, Star Trek’s Mirror Universe and other alternate story
worlds always play more to fans than to general audiences. As Steffen
Hantke argues, the alternate universe in Star Trek becomes a tool for
establishing franchise identity:

The intertextual play – which, within the confines of the franchise,

is really more an intratextual play – raises the profile of each
individual series, under the umbrella of the entire franchise, to a
level of self-consciousness that exceeds straightforward dramatic
and narrative pleasures. In such episodes the franchise comments
upon itself as a franchise. (2014, 563; original emphasis)

In fact, the Star Trek series which produce the most Mirror Universe
episodes tend to be those whose relationship to the core franchise is most
central or most fraught. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (1993–1999) (DS9),
whose unconventional setting and moral complexity continually raise
questions of its Trek credentials among viewers, was the first series to
revisit the Mirror Universe, and Star Trek: Enterprise’s (2001–2005) (ENT)
Mirror Universe episodes can be seen as an extension of its nature as
a prequel series heavily invested in returning to the origins of Star Trek
(Kotsko, 2016, 357). With its even more extensive integration of the
Mirror Universe into its first-season plot, DSC appears to have an even
greater desire to examine its intertextual relationship to its predecessors.
DSC takes the Mirror Universe far more seriously than its sibling
series, both in terms of the tone and in terms of the threat it poses.
Formerly, the Federation was portrayed as threatening to the established
order of the Terran Empire, and Prime characters inevitably improve the
conditions of the Mirror Universe with their superior ideals. While the
Empire was evil in TOS, it was not a very competent evil. Kirk’s (William
Shatner) Mirror Universe double is easily apprehended in ‘Mirror,
Mirror’ (2x04), while Prime Kirk passes himself off relatively smoothly:
‘it was far easier for you as civilized men to behave like barbarians
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 25

than it was for them as barbarians to behave like civilized men,’ Spock
(Leonard Nimoy) informs him on his return. Before he leaves, Kirk
quickly convinces Mirror Spock of the superiority of Federation ideals.
In subsequent Mirror Universe episodes in DS9 and ENT, the Prime
Universe is always more technologically and socially advanced than the
Mirror Universe. The fledgling rebellion of DS9 gains most of its key
victories through the aid of the Prime crew, and in ENT the Mirror
Universe is shaken to its core by access to more advanced Federation
technology and its principles of equality. The intended purpose of the
Mirror Universe in these shows is to highlight the natural longevity,
efficiency, and efficacy of the Federation.
In DSC, however, the purpose of the Mirror Universe is to reveal the
Federation’s instabilities. In contrast to the Mirror Kirk of TOS, Lorca
(Jason Isaacs) successfully impersonates a Starfleet captain for months.
What is more, when the truth comes out, Admiral Cornwell (Jayne
Brook) concludes that Prime Lorca must be dead, because no Starfleet
officer could survive long alone in such a universe (‘The War Without,
The War Within,’ 1x14).2 Discovery eventually learns that the Empire’s
experimentation with the mycelial network threatens all the parallel
universes in existence. Likewise, the Mirror Universe’s amoral values of
strength and domination threaten to infect Starfleet’s higher principles
through Captain Lorca’s authoritarian and military style of command, as
well as Emperor Georgiou’s insidious influence and Burnham’s personal
crisis of identity later on in the season. Through Lorca’s influence, in
particular, characters like Commander Saru (Doug Jones), Burnham,
and Stamets must negotiate between the principled ideals for which
they joined Starfleet and the pragmatic expediency which war demands.
As a proxy for the Federation’s larger ethical battle against its darker
impulses, Burnham fights to hold onto her sense of self and her identity
as a Starfleet officer while immersed in the necessary violence of the
Mirror Universe. As she performs her role as the ruthless Captain
Burnham of the I.S.S. Shenzhou, she reflects in voice-over on the crisis
of identity her duties inspire:

It’s been two days, but they’re already inside my head. Every
moment is a test. Can you bury your heart? Can you hide your
decency? Can you continue to pretend to be one of them, even as
little by little it kills the person you really are? … I’ve continued

2
The second Discovery novel’s (Dayton Ward’s Drastic Measures, 2018) coda at
least suggests Prime Lorca is still alive.
26 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

to study their ways, read all I can. It’s getting easier to pass, which
is exactly what I feared the most. (‘The Wolf Inside,’ 1x11)

In the same episode, Burnham loses confidence in the essential difference

between herself and her evil Mirror Universe counterpart: ‘We’re all
human here. We all start out with the same drives, the same needs.
Maybe none of us, no matter what world we’re from really know what
darkness is waiting inside.’ Whereas previous series, from TOS to DS9 to
ENT, uniformly emphasized the potential for knowledge of the Federation
to inspire rebellion within the Mirror Universe, DSC asserts the opposite,
that participation in the Empire could corrupt even the most devoted
Starfleet officer and reveal an inner potential for destruction within the
Federation itself. Whereas in previous series we were dangerous to the
Mirror Universe, in DSC the Mirror Universe becomes dangerous to us.

The Empty Throne: Star Trek Subjectivity

and Discovery’s Captaincy

The Mirror Universe creates a void at the heart of Star Trek: the captain’s
chair. The captain has long served as the figure for Star Trek’s liberal
humanistic view of the future, the philosophy famously instilled by
creator Gene Roddenberry and expressed in the show’s narrative project
of gradually extending human values and rights to a widening circle of
human and alien Others. In TOS, Captain Kirk’s position at the center
of the bridge surrounded by his officers becomes an expression of ego,
rationality, and individuality, his unique ability to observe and act. He
is, in other words, the humanist subject. For Kirk and later for Captain
Picard in Star Trek: The Next Generation (TNG), the captain’s chair signifies
one’s position as the emblem and arbiter of the best kind of humanity.
To occupy this position, as Daniel Bernardi has shown in his study of
race in Star Trek, one must be socially normative: white, male, straight,
able, and human.3 Around the captain’s chair are his crew, who for the
liberal humanist project should represent ‘diversity’ of various kinds –
deviations from the captain’s central identity position. They represent an
extension of human subjectivity and its privileges, but generally possess

3
The trope of the Starfleet captain is also further discussed in another chapter
of this book, Sabrina Mittermeier and Jennifer Volkmer’s ‘“We Choose Our
Own Pain. Mine Helps Me Remember”: Gabriel Lorca, Ash Tyler, and the
Question of Masculinity.’
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 27

less power in the hierarchy of the ship and in the narrative of the show
(Bernardi, 1998, 68).
As Lynne Joyrich notes in ‘Feminist Enterprise? Star Trek: The Next
Generation and the Occupation of Femininity,’ the franchise as a whole
tends to express its commitment to diversity and humanist ideals by
gradually bringing these ‘Others,’ from women to people of color to
aliens, into the circle of human subjectivity represented by the Enterprise
(1996, 67). This pattern also informs the metastructure of the Star Trek
franchise, which tends to use white male captains to establish its flagship
shows before spinning off into new series like DS9 and Voyager (VOY).
Even with these shows’ Black male and white female captains, one can
see their relationship to the humanist subject – each are permitted only
one deviation from the norm at a time.
DSC’s choice of protagonist, then, is a radical break from the humanist
subjectivity of Star Trek’s past. As a Black woman, Burnham decenters the
white male subjectivity of previous series. Perhaps even more radically
(from the standpoint of Star Trek’s typical narrative structure), she is not
a captain. Moreover, her relationship to captaincy and the Starfleet power
hierarchy is fraught, marked by her initial mutiny on the U.S.S. Shenzhou,
her amorphous unranked position on the U.S.S. Discovery, and her uneasy
impersonation of the captain of the Mirror I.S.S. Shenzhou. Among the
crew of the Discovery, it is difficult to find Kirk’s brand of normative,
default human subjectivity anywhere. DSC’s casting and characterization
signal its departure from the humanist reference points of past franchise
installations, moving toward a modified vision of humanity that science
fiction critic Annalee Newitz calls ‘posthuman’ (Newitz and Anders,
2018). It speaks of a conscious effort to move beyond the benevolent
and conditional inclusiveness of Roddenberry’s liberal humanist version
of the future, where diversity orbits a normative center symbolized by
the captain’s seat.
The show itself seems ambivalent toward the idea of captaincy,
hesitant to fill the chair. Season one features a veritable revolving door
of captains: first Georgiou aboard the Shenzhou before her untimely
death, then Lorca on the Discovery, then Saru while Lorca is kidnapped,
then Tilly (Mary Wiseman) on the I.S.S. Discovery and Burnham on the
I.S.S. Shenzhou, then Saru again, then Cornwell after their return to the
Prime Universe, then Emperor Georgiou posing as Captain Georgiou.
At the close of the season, the crew is en route to pick up their new
captain on Vulcan, when Captain Pike (Anson Mount) of the Enterprise
commandeers their vessel and serves as interim captain for the bulk of
season two. Pike, however, carefully and frequently acknowledges the
limits of his claim to Discovery and declines to name a replacement when
28 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

he returns to the Enterprise at the end of the season. Almost every major
character gets a chance to sit in the big chair, but no one stays there.
In refusing to name a permanent captain from among the crew,
DSC is also revising the typical Trek ideal of the solitary, predestined
leader. When Saru is first placed in command early in season one,
for instance, he asks the ship’s computer for a list of the most highly
decorated captains and their shared outstanding traits. He initiates a
computer program that will evaluate his actions as captain based on this
metric. However, after using his own unique prey instincts to recognize
a fleeing enemy ship as Lorca’s, he cancels the computer’s evaluation,
stating, ‘I know what I did’ (‘Choose Your Pain,’ 1x05). Saru, and the
other captains in this series, will chart their own path rather than
emulating the typical characteristics of previous Star Trek luminaries.
While Kirk and Picard’s captaincies and the hierarchy of their officers
seem preordained and immutable, DSC is in a constant state of flux.
Its captains command based on expediency and situational need, not
destiny or innate qualifications alone.
The show’s second season extends this de-centering of the captaincy.
Although Pike commands the Discovery for almost the entirety of the
season and embodies a return to the (white, male, canonical) captain as
a figure of human exemplarity and wise authority, he also holds the reins
lightly. When he comes aboard, he asks Saru’s permission before taking
the captain’s seat. He startles the bridge crew by asking them to sound
off with their names, then explains that with danger ahead he wants
to know who he is facing it with. The scene fosters a sense of solidarity
and teamwork among the bridge crew, with Pike even instructing that
they ‘skip your ranks, they don’t matter’ (‘Brother,’ 2x01). The episode
contrasts him with the arrogant Lieutenant Evan Connolly (Sean
Connolly Affleck), whose shuttle is destroyed by an asteroid after he
ignores Burnham’s warning. Pike listens, and lives. His introduction also
contrasts him, pointedly, with Lorca, as Pike acknowledges the crew’s
trauma from their previous experiences and promises to be a different
kind of leader – one with an explicitly temporary role as their captain.
When Pike returns to the Enterprise at the end of the season, he leaves
his replacement open-ended. Before exiting the bridge, he raises the
‘housekeeping’ question of the captaincy. The camera pans around the
faces of the officers, lingering on Burnham, Spock, and finally, resting
on Saru – but no further word is spoken before the cut to commercial.4
When the scene returns to the bridge, Pike begins, seemingly, to formally

4
Unlike Netflix, which distributes DSC outside of the United States, CBS’s
All Access platform offers a subscription that includes commercial breaks.
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 29

instate Saru as captain, but Saru interrupts: ‘I would prefer we focus on

our respective tasks for now and discuss the captaincy later. There are
many things to consider’ (2x13, ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part One’). Pike
accedes, and the captaincy remains formally vacant. The captainless
ship then launches itself toward the far future, signaling DSC’s desire
to effect further change to the franchise’s power structures beyond the
canonical limits of its prequel-era setting.
But the setting of the show – the adventures of a largely autonomous
starship governed by a naval hierarchy – still requires a captain in order
to function. Within this new posthuman and de-centralized perspective
on Trek subjectivity, the captain’s chair represents an unresolved question
of franchise identity: when you attempt to move beyond the exclusions
of humanist frameworks, what do you do with their symbol? DSC’s
answer, at least in season one, is to replace it with a warped funhouse
mirror version – Gabriel Lorca.
On the surface, Lorca looks like a Kirkish kind of captain, albeit
with some rougher edges. He is notably the only straight, white, human
man on the crew, ostensibly serving as the humanist center of the ship
and the show. Further, like Kirk he has a way with women, shown
in an onscreen tryst with his longtime friend Vice Admiral Katrina
Cornwell, in his closeness to Commander Ellen Landry (Rekha Sharma),
and in his keen personal interest in Burnham. But from Lorca’s first
introduction, these traits are undercut by mistrust and suspicion,
aligned with the secretive military nature of his newly repurposed
science vessel. Burnham observes the disconnect between Starfleet
ideals and the ship’s operations: ‘Starfleet doesn’t keep its engineering
labs classified,’ she notes. ‘This is Discovery,’ a crew member responds
(‘Context is for Kings,’ 1x03). As a scientist, Stamets openly objects to
Lorca’s style of leadership, setting the captain’s militarism in opposition
to Star Trek’s mission of peaceful exploration. Lorca shuts him down
with a reminder of his power as captain: ‘This is not a democracy. You
understand?’ When Burnham questions the reasoning behind Lorca’s
decisions, Saru tells her, ‘The captain keeps his own council.’ Previous
captains, too, had the final word aboard their ships, but Lorca’s authority
is not framed as exemplary but as tyrannical. Burnham, not Lorca, is
the viewpoint character, and through her eyes the captain is a figure
of mystery – sometimes admirable in his effectiveness, but never fully
trusted. Even before the reveal that Lorca is actually from the Mirror
Universe, DSC works to subtly compromise what Lorca and his chair
represent. It subverts viewer expectations of captaincy and its subject
position, creating a void where there used to be a center. Within the
Mirror Universe, Lorca’s Kirk-like traits are unmasked, and their sinister
30 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

side laid bare, retroactively implicating the nature of the captain’s seat
he filled in the Prime Universe.
But it is hard to stage a mutiny. In depicting the captaincy and Lorca’s
style of masculine authority as dangerous and opposed to Federation
ideals, the show is working against decades of franchise history, against
the way audiences have been trained to read not only Star Trek but
fictional leadership more broadly. Even Pike’s democratic captaincy, in
its loving portrayal of the captain’s unshakeable sense of loyalty and
duty, is as much a fulfillment of traditional masculine subjectivity as it
is an inversion of it. The ways in which Lorca echoes past Trek captains,
especially Kirk, often plays more as an homage than a critique, and
many fans respond to it in this light. His ready-room and weapons
lab, for example, are a Trekkie Easter egg hunt of references to TOS,
including a Gorn skeleton and a tribble, items that are meant to suggest
his mysterious connections, but that also connect him in a positive way
to Kirk’s brash style of leadership. The CBS-run recap and discussion
show After Trek (2017–2018) had a marked interest in Lorca throughout
the season, often reveling in exactly these kinds of Easter eggs and in
Lorca’s military and sexual conquests.
This interest is most disturbing when it overwrites violence toward the
show’s marginalized characters. After the death of Commander Landry,
host Matt Mira’s first gleeful question for actor Rekha Sharma asked
her to confirm the character’s implied sexual relationship with Lorca.
He frames Landry’s death as a kind of throw-back reference to another
ill-fated female security officer, TNG’s Tasha Yar: ‘But, I mean, listen, it’s
Star Trek and, you know, security chief sometimes is a deadly position
to have in season one. We’ve seen this. We also know that sometimes
those actors come back again and again and again’ (1x03, ‘Episode 3’).
Both as the captain’s conquest and as a female security officer, Mira
jokingly suggests, Landry should accept and expect an unceremonious
death (and, in a prophetic moment for Mira, a return) as just the way
things are in Star Trek. Lorca actor Jason Isaacs plays along with this
positioning of his character: ‘Thanks for all your, uh, loyal service. I
think you know what I’m talking about,’ he quips to audience laughs.
This is not to say that no fun can be had at Landry’s exit, especially
on what is essentially a comedy-oriented recap show, but that the show’s
ambivalent portrayal of Lorca – and the powerful appeal of the captain’s
chair – allow viewers to sweep past the show’s intended critique of him
to revel in precisely the qualities being criticized. As a tool of critique,
Lorca has the same weakness as the Mirror Universe itself: they are both
too much fun. Lorca is as much an opportunity to enjoy the dark side
of the captain’s chair as to critique it, and his similarity to laudable Trek
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 31

captains like Kirk makes it easy to glide over his deeper problems – like
the dead and damaged women he leaves in his wake.
The After Trek discussion also highlights a crucial faultline in DSC’s
approach to critiquing and revising the franchise: it criticizes the past
by recreating its casualties. To invoke Audre Lorde (1984, 110), DSC
wants to critique Star Trek’s relationship to power and to who gets to
have it, but it wants to use the same toolset in order to do so. In the
following sections, I will show how this approach creates some difficult
contradictions: just as Lorca remains sympathetic and charismatic despite
the show’s critique and eventual condemnation of him, characters
like Burnham and Culber must relive the deprivations and violence of
previous Treks in order to regain the power the franchise previously
denied them. In order to depict these characters, the show ends up
drawing on narratives of their own erasure.

The Symbolic Queer Gets Literally

Buried: Culber and the Mirror

Star Trek’s approach to LGBTQ characters evolved over the decades

from TOS to ENT from explicit exclusion to ever-postponed promises
for inclusion. Every producer since Roddenberry on TNG, up to and
including J.J. Abrams on Star Trek (2009) and Star Trek: Into Darkness
(2013), has made promises of onscreen inclusion that never materialized
(Jenson, 2011; Maloney, 2013). Ultimately, there would be no queer
characters in Trek until Abrams’ third film, Star Trek: Beyond (2016), and
then only in a much-touted but brief onscreen moment that relies more
on implication than on explicit representation.
In between the refusal and the delayed promises, Trek relied mainly
on the symbolic – and, with it, the tragic. Symbolism is Star Trek’s
preferred method for addressing social issues of all kinds, and the
alien space adventure is in many ways a medium designed for mainly
metaphorical discussion of humanity. In episodes like TNG’s ‘The Host’
(4x23) and ‘The Outcast’ (5x17) or ENT’s ‘Stigma’ (2x14) and ‘Cogenitor’
(2x22), alien culture and biology become a stand-in for exploration
of human homosexuality and gender identity. DS9’s ‘Rejoined’ (4x06)
perhaps comes closest to breaking through the metaphorical to the
representational when Jadzia Dax (Terry Farrell) kisses another woman
from her symbiont’s past life – but this encounter is still cloaked in the
guise of the ‘alien taboo.’ For much of Trek’s history, queerness was the
thing that could not be represented literally – the thing that could only
be figured, never embodied. Further, all of these symbolic episodes end
32 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

in tragedy, ranging from romantic rejection to forced ‘reeducation’ to

death. DSC makes an important stride in breaking through the symbolism
and unreality of these previous depictions.5 But there is also a troubling
aspect to the way DSC makes queerness visible: it makes this implicit
violence part of the explicit level of the text.
Aside from Sulu’s (John Cho) very brief moment in Star Trek: Beyond,
Stamets and Culber are Star Trek’s first canonically gay characters, and
they are the first to appear in any Trek television show. There is much
to celebrate in their depiction: it is utterly unsensationalized, almost
quotidian. The first onscreen confirmation of their relationship is a scene
in which they brush their teeth together. Both characters are portrayed
with enough depth that one can perhaps forgive that this is more a
Straight-plus world, still using heterosexuality as its default, rather than
a truly queer future. (In 1x07, ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad,’
for instance, Burnham is asked at a party about her old boyfriends. Her
discomfort, we are meant to understand, is with her lack of romantic
history, not with the heteronormativity of the question.) One of the
show’s most delicate and touching moments is an improvised ballroom
dance between Stamets and Burnham in 1x07, in which he tells the
story of how he met Culber: ‘Never hide who you are. That’s the only
way relationships work.’ It is a moment that subtly speaks to the new
way forward for the franchise: this is the only way Star Trek works.
But DSC is still intent on using tragedy to explore that new visibility. In
a shocking onscreen moment, Culber is killed by a crewmate in episode
1x09. His neck snaps. He falls to the floor. I found it very difficult to
watch, all the more so because the show seems intent on showing the
image of his death over and over in flashbacks and recaps. In all, it is
shown onscreen five times in season one and twice more in season two.
His loss becomes a centerpiece of the plot resolution in season one, with
Culber’s multiverse echo guiding Stamets back to Discovery and then
guiding Discovery back to the Prime Universe. The storyline seemed to
be a textbook instance of the trope of ‘burying your gays,’ constructing
tragic deaths for any queer characters in a story,6 especially those in a

5
For a further analysis of LGBTQ representation on DSC, see Sabrina
Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala’s essay ‘“Never Hide Who You Are”:
Queer Representation and Actorvism on Star Trek: Discovery’ published in
this volume.
6
The phrase ‘bury your gays’ as a name for this media trope originates in
fandom and was popularized by the online site TV Tropes, largely replacing
the previous fandom moniker of ‘Dead Lesbian Syndrome.’ Both describe a
common cliché in fictional narratives in which queer characters, especially
women, frequently die in sudden or tragic circumstances within the story.
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 33

romantic relationship, so much so that Culber actor Wilson Cruz and

showrunners were quick to assure fans that Culber would return, and
that the narrative payoff would be worth the heartbreak (1x09, ‘Episode
9’). It is the brutality of Culber’s death, more than anything else, that
lingers at the close of the season, an echo of the tragic symbolic ends
of other queer-adjacent characters in Star Trek. In season two, the show
introduces the character of Commander Jett Reno, played by Tig Notaro,
who talks about her wife. But her wife, too, is dead, another victim of
season one’s Federation–Klingon War.
Culber receives his promised resurrection in ‘Saints of Imperfection’
(2x05), in which Burnham and Stamets enter the mycelial network
and discover that the spore-world has preserved his consciousness in
a new body. For all the reassurances about his return from death,
the mechanism of his return feels oddly perfunctory: it follows an arc
in which Tilly is haunted and eventually kidnapped by a spore alien
inhabiting her body, but the arc forms a narrative cul-de-sac that has no
long-term connections to the ongoing plot of the season, in which the
spore drive and mycelial network hardly factor. It is, fairly transparently,
a plot device for returning Culber, making his return feel more like a
side plot than a major part of the ongoing narrative.
Although the show explores his struggle to cope with his trauma and
resume his old life, it continues to do so mainly in the background of
other events. Culber and Stamets go through a painful separation, and
Culber moves out of their shared quarters and makes plans to transfer
to another ship. Many of these scenes, such as the one in which Reno
tells Culber about her wife and pushes him to reconcile with Stamets
(‘Through the Valley of Shadows,’ 2x12), are tender and emotional,
giving real weight to the characters’ sense of loss and love for each other.
However, they are also consistently set against a backdrop of pain and
tragedy, which forms the core of the show’s interest in these characters
and relationships. Culber’s pivotal decision to stay with Stamets happens
offscreen, recounted to a wounded, half-conscious Stamets in a brief scene
of reconciliation (2x14, ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part Two’). To be fair, the
two-part episode is already packed with action and the resolution of other
major characters’ storylines. But the brevity and secondary treatment of
Culber’s true moment of return speaks to the show’s priorities regarding
the character – they are far more interested in Culber’s death and trauma

The trope has a long history in science fiction and fantasy television: one of
its first uses in fandom referred to the death of the character Tara on the
show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and other notable examples include Babylon
5, Battlestar Galactica, and, more recently, The 100.
34 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

than in its amelioration. His story arc over the first two seasons, the
promised epic love story, relies alarmingly on the same tragic narratives
that fuel Star Trek’s earlier symbolic queer episodes.

Michael Burnham: Pain, Power, and

Black Womanhood in Star Trek

Burnham is an inherently dual character, existing at the center of the

narrative but at the margins of Starfleet’s power structures. She is at
once a reflection of Star Trek’s historical humanist hierarchy and a
rebuttal to it – a reflection in that her position on the crew is marginal
to its power structures, a rebuttal in that this marginal position is now
the main perspective of the entire show. As such, there is a duality as
well in what the show is claiming for the franchise’s identity through
her character and casting. On the one hand, through Trek’s humanist
philosophy of diversity, the show can credibly claim that their casting and
character choices are a continuation of Roddenberry’s legacy, something
that has always been part of Trek. In response to racist criticism of
Martin-Green’s casting as Burnham, for instance, fans pointed to TOS’s
Uhura as evidence that Trek has always been inclusive (Andrews, 2017,
para. 5). This is entirely true, but it also cheats the real newness of
Martin-Green’s position in Trek, and the extent to which Uhura’s role
remained largely marginal in terms of narrative space onscreen. There is
a famous anecdote about Nichelle Nichols meeting Martin Luther King,
Jr., who convinced her to stay on the show when she was planning
to leave after its first season (Ohlheiser, 2015, para. 7). Though this
anecdote underlines the groundbreaking nature of Uhura’s role in TOS,
and is often told in order to demonstrate Star Trek’s anti-racist credentials,
it also tends to overshadow the reasons Nichols intended to leave in
the first place, as she watched her lines trimmed and cut from every
script: ‘It finally got to the point where I had really had it. I mean I
just decided that I don’t even need to read the fucking script! I mean I
know how to say, “hailing frequencies open”’ (qtd. in Bernardi, 1998,
40). Martin-Green and Michael Burnham are contending with both sides
of Black womanhood in Trek: their central role in the show’s legacy and
their marginal role in the show’s content.
Not coincidentally, ‘Mirror, Mirror’ is one of Uhura’s most significant
episodes, in which she receives her own subplot complete with action and
espionage, a reprieve from ‘hailing frequencies open.’ Within the Mirror
Universe Burnham, too, experiences a reprieve from her powerless status,
commanding the I.S.S. Shenzhou with absolute authority. The Mirror
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 35

Universe rewards her with the captaincy she forfeited with her mutiny
against Starfleet, extravagantly returning her lost power. For both Uhura
and Burnham, it is a space of possibility as well as hardship, where the
usual strictures of the universe can be lightened and bent.
But like Burnham’s own rhetorical purpose within the show, the
Mirror Universe is a two-sided tool in her narrative. It grants her the
power Starfleet denied her, but it also punishes her, allowing her to
make amends to Starfleet. She works off Starfleet’s debts in a chillingly
literal way – her work on the Discovery is, after all, a kind of prison
labor – by serving them at their darkest hour and by undergoing a
personal journey that (also very literally) reflects her choices back at
her (Capener, 2018). Troublingly, the show makes her exile from centers
of power her own fault, something she must atone for, when in fact it
largely reflects the implicit treatment of all women of color in Star Trek.
Her storyline in season one is partly a tacit acknowledgement of that
checkered franchise history, reiterating the violences of the past in order
to show Burnham triumphing over them and remaking Starfleet in the
process. At the same time, the show makes Burnham into a stand-in for
Starfleet itself, with her ethical struggles and lessons mirroring those of
the Federation. She is the embodiment of Starfleet’s struggle between
pragmatic, fearful aggression and moral principles, but she is also the
embodiment of the people Star Trek has historically marginalized in its
onscreen depictions of the future. Her struggle to regain the power and
status she lost in the series opener suggests the lingering shadow of Star
Trek’s past, a need for Burnham to earn what is given freely to others.
For Burnham, this future does not look utopian yet.
Through the Mirror Universe plotline, Burnham plumbs the potential
for darkness within herself and within Starfleet. When she ultimately
rejects it to embrace the value of true Federation ideals, it is portrayed
as a reinforcement of not just her own identity, but that of Star Trek
as a whole. In the final scene of season one, an inverse mirror to the
dark staging of her military tribunal in the series opening, Burnham is
now honored and praised by the institution that formerly condemned
her (Capener, 2018). She and Starfleet are each redeemed by the other,
with service saving Burnham from ethical compromise and Burnham
saving Starfleet from the same. The connection is clear to the point of
heavy-handedness in Burnham’s final speech:

The only way to defeat fear is to tell it no. No, we will not take
shortcuts on the path to righteousness. No, we will not break the
rules that protect us from our basest instincts. No, we will not
allow desperation to destroy moral authority. I am guilty of all these
36 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

things. … We will continue exploring, discovering new worlds and

new civilizations. Yes, that is the United Federation of Planets. Yes,
that is Starfleet. Yes, that is who we are, and who we will always
be. (‘Will You Take My Hand,’ 1x15)

The original values of Star Trek, Burnham’s speech asserts, are

rediscovered and reaffirmed through her own struggles. But this ending
fails to reckon with Starfleet’s own role in that suffering. The way the
series chooses to work through the problems of Star Trek’s humanist
framing is by repeating and then reclaiming the violences visited upon
marginalized characters. The result is a fragmented doubling, a character
who highlights the value of Star Trek ideals and its failure in these ideals.

Death and Resurrection, or Can We

Really Return from the Mirror?

The purpose of modern Trek’s many journeys downward into dystopia

– the wars, the deaths, the moral ambiguity, the Mirror Universe – is
so it can return. Star Trek travels through the Mirror Universe so that
it can come back changed and renewed, its values affirmed or demons
exorcized. For individual characters, the return may take the form of
resurrection (or at least a doppelganger), restoration of rank and status,
or resumption of scientific exploration. So, what are the characters given
in return for their shattering voyage through the mirror? By the end of
the season the answer is power, both in terms of in-world authority for
the characters and in terms of narrative centrality within the franchise.
This is especially true for Burnham, who receives a restored rank and a
more confident understanding of herself and her place in Starfleet. There
is an important payoff for the narrative hardships that she, Georgiou,
and Culber endure. And yet it still troubles me that the way the show
chooses to tell these characters’ stories is by hurting them, by taking
away their power and making them earn it back.
Burnham, Georgiou, and Culber are embodiments of a crisis of
identity within Star Trek. These characters serve as staging-grounds for
correcting the inequalities and exclusions of the past, and for bringing
Star Trek more in line with its own ideals – paradoxically, changing it
by making it ever more what it already was. But they are also collateral
damage in DSC’s reiterative impulse, its desire to repeat the past in the
process of revising it. DSC does not just want to be a show that fixes
the franchise, it wants to be a show about fixing the franchise – which
means they have to break these characters before they can empower
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 37

them, and they end up reiterating some of Trek’s worst impulses even
as they attempt to rewrite them. DSC desires to fix the problems of the
past but is not able – yet – to fully imagine the future.

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Travis M. Andrews, ‘Some white “Star Trek” fans are unhappy
about remake’s diversity’, Washington Post, 23 June (2017), https://
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startrek/2018/10/22/star-trek-discovery-season-2-optimism/.
Devon Maloney, ‘Star Trek’s History of Progressive Values – And Why It
Faltered on LGBT Crew Members’, Wired, 13 May (2013), https://www.
wired.com/2013/05/star-trek-lgbt-gay-characters/.
38 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Annalee Newitz and Charlie Jane Anders, ‘Hope, Dread, and Star
Trek: Discovery’, Our Opinions Are Correct Podcast, 15 March (2018),
ht t p s://w w w.ou r opi n ion s a r ec or r ec t .c om /show note s/2 018/8/4 /
episode-1-hope-dread-and-star-trek-discovery.
Abby Ohlheiser, ‘How Martin Luther King Jr. convinced “Star Trek’s” Lt.
Uhura to stay on the show’, The Washington Post, 31 July (2015), https://
www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2015/07/31/
how-martin-luther-king-jr-convinced-star-treks-uhura-to-stay-on-the-
show/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.ba1518d1c795.
StarTrek.com staff, ‘Discovery Heads to Blu-ray: Sonequa Martin-Green’,
StarTrek.com, 12 September (2018), http://www.startrek.com/article/
discovery-heads-to-blu-ray-sonequa-martin-green.

Episodes and Films Cited

‘Mirror, Mirror.’ Star Trek: The Original Series, written by Gene Roddenberry
and Jerome Bixby, directed by Marc Daniels, Paramount Television, 6
October, 1967.
‘Skin of Evil.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Joseph Stephano
and Hannah Louise Shearer, directed by Joseph L. Scanlan, Paramount
Television, 25 April, 1988.
‘The Host.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Michel Horvat, directed
by Marvin V. Rush, Paramount Television, 13 May, 1991.
‘The Outcast.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Jeri Taylor, directed
by Robert Scheerer, Paramount Television, 16 March, 1992.
‘Crossover.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Peter Allen Fields and
Michael Piller, directed by David Livingston, CBS Televison Studios, 15
May, 1994.
‘Rejoined.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ronald D. Moore and
René Echevarria, directed by Avery Brooks, Paramount Television, 30
October, 1995.
‘The Emperor’s New Cloak.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ira Steven
Behr and Hans Beimler, directed by LeVar Burton, CBS Television Studios,
3 February, 1999.
‘Stigma.’ Star Trek: Enterprise, written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga,
directed by David Livingston, Paramount Television, 5 February, 2003.
‘Cogenitor.’ Star Trek: Enterprise, written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga,
directed by LeVar Burton, Paramount Television, 30 April, 2003.
‘In A Mirror Darkly, Parts 1 and 2.’ Star Trek: Enterprise, written by Mike
Sussman, directed by James L. Conway (part 1) and Marvin V. Rush (part
2), Paramount Television, 22 April, 2005 (part 1), 29 April, 2005 (part 2).
‘The Battle of the Binary Stars.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen
J. Berg and Aaron Harberts, directed by Adam Kane, CBS Television
Studios, 24 September, 2017.
 FRANCHISE IDENTITY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 39

‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 1 October, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Televison Studios, 8 October, 2017.
‘Episode 3.’ After Trek, hosted by Matt Mira, CBS Television Studios,
8  October, 2017.
‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kemp Powers, directed
by Lee Rose, CBS Television Studios, 15 October, 2017.
‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by
Aron Eli Coleite and Jesse Alexander, directed by David Barrett, CBS
Television Studios, 29 October, 2017.
‘Into the Forest I Go.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon Kim and Erika
Lippoldt, directed by Chris Byrne, CBS Television Studios, 12 November,
2017.
‘Episode 9.’ After Trek, hosted by Matt Mira, CBS Television Studios,
7  January, 2018.
‘The Wolf Inside.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa Randolph, directed by
T.J. Scott, CBS Television Studios, 14 January, 2018.
‘The War Without, The War Within.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa
Randolph, Sean Cochran, and Kirsten Beyer, directed by David Solomon,
CBS Television Studios, 4 February, 2018.
‘Will You Take My Hand?’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television Studios,
12 February, 2018.
‘Brother.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron Harberts,
and Ted Sullivan, directed by Alex Kurtzman, CBS Television Studios,
17 January, 2019.
‘Saints of Imperfection.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by David Barrett, CBS Television Studies, 14 February, 2019.
‘Through the Valley of Shadows.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon
Kim and Erika Lippoldt, directed by Doug Aarniokoski, CBS Television
Studios, 4 April, 2019.
‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part One and Two.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written
by Michelle Paradise, Jenny Lumet, and Alex Kurtzman, directed by
Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 11/18 April, 2019.

Star Trek. 2009. Directed by J.J. Abrams. Paramount Pictures.

Star Trek Into Darkness. 2013. Directed by J.J. Abrams. Bad Robot Productions,
Skydance Productions, K/O Paper Products.
Star Trek: Beyond. 2016. Directed by Justin Lin. Skydance Media, Bad Robot
Productions, Sneaky Shark Productions, Perfect Storm Entertainment.
 A Star Trek About Being Star Trek
History, Liberalism, and Discovery’s
Cold War Roots
Torsten Kathke

At the height of the Cold War, the original Star Trek series (1966–1969)
provided viewers with a utopian, racially inclusive and altogether
progressive alternative to the contemporary standoff among superpowers.
Yet, at the same time it was caught within the bipolar world system.1
Star Trek may have interrogated U.S. policy in the Cold War, frequently
posing the question of what its heroic protagonists were supposed to do
given morally tenuous options, but it never questioned that the crew
the show portrayed in fact was heroic, and good.
In the Western movie analogy that creator Gene Roddenberry used
to sell his brainchild to NBC, Star Trek was a ‘wagon train to the stars’
(Gibberman, 1991, 109). From set design to story tropes to music and
stuntmen’s fighting techniques, the genre was dutifully reproduced
in Star Trek. As were its precepts: exploration of space was equated
with historian Frederick Jackson Turner’s American western frontier
(in its guise, here, as ‘the final frontier’) and as a necessary drive for
humanity (Bonazzi, 1993, 153; Turner, 1998, 31–60). The need for the
trek in the name of progress itself was never doubted. The original Star
Trek’s emphasis on diversity, too, remained rooted in its age. The show
sought to include additional groups into the purview of male, liberal,
American whiteness while never truly portraying them as co-creators
of its quasi-utopian future.
After the original run, Star Trek remained a narrative corollary to
popular imaginaries of history. Trends, fads, and new focus points
in historiography frequently cropped up in its iterations. The Next
Generation’s (1987–1994) emphasis on cultured diplomacy, for example,
coincided with a slew of academic and popular histories focusing on

1
Bipolarity always had limits (Westad, 2018, 7). As John Lewis Gaddis
contends, however, the Cold War world appeared to be a bipolar one (Gaddis,
2005, 120). This mattered for how it was portrayed in popular culture.

41
42 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

America’s role in the world, while Deep Space Nine’s (1993–1999) location
as an outpost on the frontier depicted a meeting ground of cultures, as
if ripped from the pages of any number of works of the then-ascendant
New Western History.
2017’s Star Trek: Discovery takes a deliberate departure from the
colorful and successful, but philosophically lackluster alternative universe
incarnation depicted in the series of movies helmed by J.J. Abrams from
2009 onward. Discovery (DSC), I argue, operates on an added meta level
that is not found in any of the other editions of the franchise. It is
not just political in the sense that it takes stances in its narratives and
challenges viewers’ preconceptions regarding current political issues. It
also pointedly reasserts Star Trek’s role as a societal force that can, and
wants to be, part of such a discourse.
In this chapter I explore how, in doing this, DSC harkens back to the
idea of a unitary mainstream American society, continued into the future
as a utopian ideal. In turn, the series builds not only on a tradition of
exceptionalism present in America’s constitutive canon of writings, but
more specifically on a tradition of political thought regarding the idea
of liberalism; a tradition dominant in public discourse during the 1960s,
the decade of Star Trek’s original conception.
To trace this intellectual history, I will first put DSC into its social
and political context. I then elaborate on Star Trek’s roots in Cold War
America, highlighting the notion of liberalism described by Louis Hartz
and its attendant claim that the United States was a nation solely founded
on the thought of Enlightenment philosopher John Locke. A description
of the cultural creation of the original series follows, as well as a brief
section on how the legacy of this genesis was preserved throughout
later series. Finally, I return to DSC itself, developing my argument that
the series continues this tradition while also adding a further level of
reflection and self-awareness of its status in the canon. The conclusion
links both series through a common set of ideological positions and
shows that, while DSC strays from some principles that former versions
held fast to, it both actively reproduces the core framework of Star Trek
and cannot escape the franchise’s philosophical underpinnings even
where it attempts to depart from them.

The Limits of Star Trek

DSC’s first season pointedly creates a universe in which the predictable

normalcy of the benign protectorate offered by the United Federation
of Planets, the various series’ stand-in for, depending on the context,
 HISTORY, LIBERALISM, AND DISCOVERY ’S COLD WAR ROOTS 43

the United Nations or the United States (Scharf and Robert, 2003, 76;
Crothers, 2015, 66–67; Wills, 2015, 3), is out of kilter. The storyline
begins with the start of a dire war against the original series’ favorite
baddies, the Klingons. This provides dramatic fodder for season one.
Picking up the baton of a cadre of shows never overly inventive in terms
of structure, this iteration of Star Trek, too, happily follows Campbellian
formulas of the hero’s journey (Campbell, 2008, 210).
Sonequa Martin-Green’s character Michael Burnham is the audience
proxy, a second-favorite child who has proven herself. A human adopted
by Sarek (James Frain), biological father of quintessential The Original
Series (TOS) character Spock, Burnham has advanced through the
rungs of the exclusive Vulcan Science Academy and through Starfleet,
becoming a trusted first officer to Michelle Yeoh’s Captain Philippa
Georgiou. Buoyed by a bout of exploratory enthusiasm and imbued
with a penchant for reckless adventure, she accidentally sets off a war
between the Federation and the newly resurgent Klingon Empire, getting
her captain killed in the process. The events of DSC’s first season then
follow Burnham as she redeems herself. Rescued from spending a good
portion of her remaining life in a penal colony by starship Discovery’s
Captain Gabriel Lorca (Jason Isaacs), she becomes a member of the ship’s
crew, attempting to prove her worthiness to both her complement of
comrades and herself.
On the surface, DSC ticks all the boxes of progressive fantasy – it
is literally and figuratively inclusive: it features a black female main
character, a gay couple, and various alien species, as well as cybernet-
ically enhanced humans who are accepted without prejudice, as members
of the crew. Its underlying politics, however, are those of the 1960s
original and, with infrequent exceptions, those of the hundreds of
episodes that followed: they create an ever-more inclusive liberal ideal
world. They do not, however, fundamentally critique that vision. Said
vision is one of Cold War internationalism that preserves the primacy
of the nation-state at its core while only adding layers of inclusion on
top, not making them central to an altogether more open conception of
political involvement. Star Trek’s vision of the future in 2017 tells forward
the tale of Turner from 1893, by way of Kennedy’s 1960 New Frontier.
This frontier has through the decades consistently opened for
settlement to a growing number of groups and individuals once excluded
from the Western movie masculinity that overtly dominated the original
run. Inclusion in DSC has its limits, though, and they are strikingly
similar to the limits TOS established in the 1960s. Mike O’Connor has
argued that a liberal color-blindness affected the series, while Daniel
Bernardi has analyzed the racism inherent in Star Trek’s supposedly
44 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

post-racial society (Bernardi, 1997; O’Connor, 2012). If one accepts these

assessments, one is then prompted to conclude that the series fared well
where it could grandstand on principle, and where it could incorporate
otherness into its liberal conventions. If Captain Kirk in TOS’s ‘Plato’s
Stepchildren’ (3x10) asserts that ‘where I come from size, shape, or color
makes no difference,’ it is an expression of that color-blindness. Where
questions of personhood beyond a performative assertion in the style
of the American founding belief that ‘all men are created equal’ were
concerned, however, the stumbles into racism and sexism were frequent.
This is sometimes painfully visible, as when in ‘The Menagerie, Part Two’
(1x12) a character remarks of green-skinned Orion women held as slaves
that ‘they’re like animals, vicious, seductive. They say no human male
can resist them.’ He casually embraces an orientalist and misogynist
worldview also tacitly accepted by the scene’s interlocutor James Kirk.
Star Trek presents a society outwardly accepting of forms of co-existence
and cohabitation not traditionally presented in the American twentieth
or twenty-first century mainstream. Yet, it also always painstakingly
circumscribes the way in which these can be experienced. Thus, in DSC
the Trek television universe’s first gay couple among series regulars, Dr.
Culber (Wilson Cruz) and Lieutenant Stamets (Anthony Rapp), is shown
to us in images invoking the tame, idealized domesticity of 1950s family
sitcoms; matching pajamas and all.
The original Star Trek’s janus-faced overt moralizing on topics of
inclusion and diversity – the latter even literally in its championing
of the Vulcan concept of ‘Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations’
– while at the same time often failing to create room for minority
characters to be allowed the same possibilities for development as those
representing white America, has been tempered in later series. What
Star Trek can never fully escape, however, is its philosophical grounding
in American liberalism, as defined by political scientist Louis Hartz at
mid-century. That liberalism lay at the heart of its ideology and that
Star Trek reproduced in space major constellations of the Cold War has
been argued convincingly (Worland, 1988, 112; O’Connor, 2012). With
definitions of liberalism notoriously slippery, however, its use to describe
Star Trek’s undergirding rationality demands elaboration.

Cold War Liberalism

Harvard scholar Louis Hartz’s 1955 The Liberal Tradition in America became
a citation classic almost immediately. It is a sweeping waltz through the
weeds of U.S. elite learnedness in the middle of the twentieth century.
 HISTORY, LIBERALISM, AND DISCOVERY ’S COLD WAR ROOTS 45

In the service of his main argument, Hartz nonchalantly name-checks

over 60 thinkers and writers like Locke, Beard, Marx, Peggy Hutchinson,
John Adams, Margaret Kennedy, Aristotle, and Sir Walter Scott. (Hartz,
1955, 3–13). That argument: what set America apart from other countries
was a single factor that showed itself as two: the absence of feudalism
and the presence of classical liberalism (Hartz, 1955, 20–21).
Where Arthur Schlesinger’s contention in his 1949 The Vital Center
was that liberalism was necessary to provide a bulwark against fascism
and communism, Hartz’s contention was that the United States’s core
political system functioned as a push-and-pull of two different variants of
liberalism, the progressive liberalism of the left in the mold of FDR’s New
Deal (today almost synonymous with ‘liberalism’), and liberal free-trade
conservatism (Gunnell, 2005, 196; Horowitz and Schlesinger, 2017). Both
were ingrained in U.S. political culture from the founding of the republic
and both could unite large enough swathes of the U.S. population at any
one time. This was why they could forever form the foundation of the
country’s political discursive sphere, including and co-opting even the
fringes and providing extreme points that were still within the purview
of liberalism. Alexander Hamilton’s elitist finance capitalism and its
disciples may have battled Jeffersonian yeoman agrarianism, but ‘in a
liberal society the individualism of Hamilton [was] also a secret part of
the Jeffersonian psyche’ (Hartz, 1955, 12).
Any detractors of liberalism needed to still look to liberalism as
their one avenue to gain a share of power. America may have fought
over the soul of the country, Hartz would admit, but all the fighting
had been done on one controlled battlefield, with pre-defined rules that
made sure the outcome would be a dialectical outgrowth of liberalism,
nothing outside it. Accordingly, American ideology, warts and all, was
liberalism, and liberalism was Americanism (Hartz, 1955, 12–14).
James T. Kloppenberg observed in 2001 that Hartz’s book ‘provides an
inadequate account because its analysis is too flat and too static. Hartz
focused exclusively on issues of economics and psychology and missed
the constitutive roles played by democracy, religion, race, ethnicity,
and gender in American history’ (Kloppenberg, 2001, 460). But despite
such disparagement by academic interpreters of American society, Hartz
held on. More than that: he was duly rescued for the 50th jubilee of
his book. Philip Abbott, in 2005, found that he could use ‘his basic
concepts’ as ‘powerful analytical tools, which continue to provide the
most compelling analysis of recent American political development’
despite Hartz’s own flawed takes on American history (Abbott, 2005,
93). Assessing Hartz 50 years after the book’s publication, Corey Robin
had to admit that ‘The evidence weighs heavily against Hartz, but the
46 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

picture he paints seems inescapably right.’ He pointedly wondered: ‘How

can a book that gets so much wrong nevertheless seem so right?’ (Robin,
2005, 2). Part, if not all, of the answer here is certainly the popularity
of Hartz’s thesis. Whether a correct and useful assessment of American
society or not, Hartz’s Lockean United States has been an influential
view. Cited frequently, if grudgingly, even by its critics on both the left
and the right, it also inserted itself into popular culture.
If for Hartz America was mainly beholden to a liberal consensus, how
then could it develop ‘that sense of relativity, that spark of philosophy
which European liberalism acquired through an internal experience of
social diversity and social conflict’? If the dialectic of growth could not
be internal in America, where liberalism was ‘absolutist’ as much as it
was ‘irrational’ (Robin, 2005, 3), then where could relativity and spark
come from? For Hartz, it had to come from outside America’s borders. The
only question was whether this external tempering of liberalism would
be enough, ‘whether a nation can compensate for the uniformity of its
domestic life by contact with alien cultures outside it’ (Robin, 2005, 14).
Star Trek’s alien cultures are literal aliens. They allow for progress,
externalized from a politically (if not culturally) uniform United
Federation of Planets. It is this uniformity, this supposed mainstream
consensus that most profoundly defines Star Trek. Under the auspices
of a benevolent Federation all peoples can prosper. Yet they prosper
according to human values and human rules, ethical continuations of
America’s assumed liberal tradition.
The long shadow of Hartz is felt most acutely in the rules the
imaginary future society’s organs have set themselves. Starfleet heeds
a ‘prime directive’ of non-intervention. The Federation is a political
platform that combines a number of species, some of them former
enemies. The philosophical basis on which they meet is never made
completely clear, while Star Trek’s economic system has been called
everything from libertarian to socialist, even communist (Tracinski,
2014; Worstall, 2015; Somin, 2016; Gittlitz, 2018). Yet it is always obvious
that philosophically, the Federation is a joint venture of individu-
alists – not outright libertarians, but certainly no communists. TOS’s
Klingons were originally meant to represent the Soviet Union, while
TNG’s Borg are by design a collective. Spock (Leonard Nimoy), in a
storyline connecting the original crew’s second motion picture outing,
The Wrath of Khan (1982), and its third, The Search for Spock (1984), is
contradicted in his assertion that ‘the needs of the many outweigh the
needs of the few’ by his captain. Kirk (William Shatner) defies orders
and the natural order of things to resurrect his friend from the dead.
 HISTORY, LIBERALISM, AND DISCOVERY ’S COLD WAR ROOTS 47

‘The needs of the one’ here clearly ‘outweigh the needs of the many’
(Meyer, 1982; Nimoy, 1984).
Individualism alone, though, does not Lockeanism make. Property,
the other necessary constituent part of Locke’s political project, is harder
to square with Star Trek’s supposedly post-mammon society. In the
Declaration of Independence, Locke’s emphasis on property was transmog-
rified into the Thomas Jefferson-penned pursuit of happiness. In this
guise of self-improvement, Lockeanism is present in each iteration of
Star Trek. Moreover, the moneyless economy of Trek seems to explicitly
allow for property.
When Captain Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart) returns home in
TNG’s ‘Family’ (4x02) after the ordeal of being absorbed into the Borg
collective, that home is an idyllic French family-owned vineyard. Healing
from the multitude’s grip, it appears for him involves rejuvenation
through exposure to the family home, a hallmark of ownership society.
Similarly, when Avery Brooks’s Commander Sisko transfers to the Deep
Space Nine station in the pilot episode, he has crates of African art
shipped to decorate his quarters (‘Emissary’). Discovery’s Captain Lorca
even stems from a family of producers of fortune cookies (‘Context is
for Kings,’ 1x03).
An early draft of the original show’s iconic opening narration has the
‘United Space Ship Enterprise’ on a ‘five year patrol of our galaxy’ during
which it ‘visits Earth colonies, regulates commerce, and explores strange
new worlds and civilizations’ (Cubé, 2016). Here the impulse to explore
is mediated by the ship’s assignments to visit colonies and, pertinently
to Lockean liberalism, ‘regulate commerce.’ Though the latter phrase did
not remain in subsequent drafts, it does show that Roddenberry thought
of his starship as something in the mold of an early modern era Royal
Navy cruiser or a late nineteenth century American gunboat that could
be deployed to bolster the nation’s economic interests.
As Stefan Rabitsch notes, C.S. Forester’s maritime Hornblower novels,
set in the late eighteenth and in the first half of the nineteenth century,
were a cultural touchstone for Roddenberry and a source of inspiration
for Star Trek and its ‘nostalgic, gentlemanly form of military hierarchy.’
In those novels, the Royal Navy – the very force through which the
British Empire for centuries enforced its trading interests – was portrayed
as a ‘benign and seemingly disinterested “meddler”’ and guarantor of
‘peace for all’ (Rabitsch, 2018, 64). While thus outwardly given fully
to the development of knowledge and mind, under the surface Star
Trek has always also been about the protection of interests, monetary
or otherwise.
48 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Do Mention the War

TOS is set several years after a devastating war – the same one portrayed
in depth in DSC, making the newer series a prequel of sorts. Star Trek’s
inaugural series shows a time in which the peace-seeking but battle-
prepared Starfleet coasts from colony to colony, keeping a peace thinly
established and always in need of defense and nurture. There is no
small overlap of the political undercurrent of that time with that of
the era of its making, which, per Henry Luce’s American Century saw a
United States, sometimes reluctant, sometimes fueled by missionary zeal,
fielding its role of world policeman (Schulman, 2014, 13).
In both the original series and the newest one, moreover, Star Trek is
openly defined by the vocabulary and reality of the frontier. The Federation’s
mission, though purportedly peaceful, carries with it always a measure of
colonialism: its representatives are, to various degrees, colonizers of a virgin
land, ‘where no man has gone before.’ The drive of the show is subsumed
under this lodestar. Though often problematized and complicated, the
frontier is always present in the series (Wills, 2015, 2, 5, 9). The crew of the
Enterprise is cast variously as a cavalry force keeping the peace or as a scrappy,
multicultural expedition. We can see them in the vein of an idealized view
of Lewis and Clark: explorers first who only meddle with existing political
structures when absolutely necessary. The goal of the Federation that backs
the five-year mission, however, is not only little different from that of
colonial land grabs or American national expansionism in the nineteenth
century, it is specifically modeled on them (Scharf and Robert, 2003, 76).
Humanity and its ally species must stake out their territory in the Milky
Way galaxy and defend against rival powers – not French, Spanish, or
Russian, but Klingon, Romulan, or Tholian.
Star Trek’s Western movie analogy in this context has to be read
in two ways: first, as just that, a reference to America’s supposed
pioneering spirit, evoked through the centuries in multiple ways, from
John Winthrop down to Barack Obama; second, as a reference to the
Cold War world system and the nation’s defense against the Eastern Bloc.
Western television series in the 1950s and 1960s provided a canvas for
both the home front of the Cold War to be portrayed, as well as a mental
space in which a larger conversation about America’s place and role in
the world could be acted out (Georgi-Findlay, 2018, 214, 221–22). The
original Star Trek series, with its overt political commentary and its clear
lineage originating from the Hollywood television factories that gave the
nation Have Gun, Will Travel (1957–1963) (for which series creator Gene
Roddenberry previously had written) or Bonanza (1959–1973), therefore
is doubly infused with American ideology.
 HISTORY, LIBERALISM, AND DISCOVERY ’S COLD WAR ROOTS 49

The Long 1960s

The 1960s have rightly been seen as a time of an explosion of

developments in American society. A spectrum of white America, having
been given a boost up the horse of personal progress by the GI Bill
and massive government subsidies towards homeownership, was just
comfortable enough to see enemies at the gates, invading ‘traditional’
values and the supremacy of educated white male elites and their witting
or unwitting allies.
Another large section of that populace of people in power saw a
future of perhaps an immediate abyss of humanity, but certainly of
long-term progress. Post-war economic science boosterism, a strategy by
corporations whose size and manufacturing capacities had ballooned in
the Second World War, was the order of the day (Seefried, 2015, 50–51).
Captains of industry lobbied local and state governments and especially
the federal government in Washington for stabilizing handouts (Bickell,
2002, 138).
This boosterism and the Cold War coincided with and fed off of each
other. The era during which Dwight D. Eisenhower was president has too
often been seen as a kind of national holding pattern, a long moment
in waiting until the Kennedy and Johnson years and their concomitant
social movements and unrest brought in the plane for landing. But in
its own way, Eisenhower’s supposedly staid governance was radical in
its expansion of both the military capacity of the United States as well
as its economic base.
Weapons research and space flight had gone hand in hand in
America as they had in Nazi Germany, where Wernher von Braun,
a moral weathervane of a scientific mind, had early sought his luck
with the military in order to make his dreams of conquering space
feasible. Through a combination of smart maneuvering, luck, and an
American government not so much set on punishing Nazi scientists,
but rather on winning them for its own projects, he emerged out of
the war unscathed and immediately set to work on proving his worth
to America, and to again further his schoolboy interest in spaceflight
(Laney, 2015, 75, 230).
Working through the 1950s and 1960s, American and German rocket
engineers, test pilots, and scientists built up U.S. spacefaring capabilities.
In tandem, American marketing experts, sometimes working for the
government outright, and sometimes for companies seeking government
contracts or merely peddling their wares to consumers, created a
decidedly optimistic view of humanity’s future in space. The story was an
easy one to write. America’s frontier myth had never fallen out of favor
50 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

since the dime novels of the late 1900s, and had only gained salience with
the spread of movies, radio serials, and especially television. To extend
it to space, the Kennedyian New Frontier (and Star Trek’s Final Frontier,
inspired by a government publication emerging out of exactly this kind
of mindset) was as much a natural progression as it was a genius stroke
of marketing. The progress narrative, an enlightenment staple since the
eighteenth century, active in force during the nineteenth century, had
been favored until the dual catastrophes of the two world wars. It did
not remain underground for long. As the United States sought to position
itself against the Soviet Union, it used negative propaganda against the
Soviet system as much as it used positive examples of American greatness
to set itself apart from it (Gaddis, 2005, 161–63).
These positive examples, however, were always fraught, laden with
the ballast of their point of origin in stories of American Exceptionalism
and imperial notions of the ‘white man’s burden.’ Star Trek’s original
run, conceived in the early and mid 1960s and airing from 1966 to
1969, presented a self-consciously ‘enlightened’ version of the future, in
which race, gender, social status, or, quite literally, alien behavior and
looks, were no longer disqualifying factors. In truth, and on purpose,
that twenty-third century world had more in common with the America
of the early 1960s than any imaginable far-off future. Series creator
Gene Roddenberry’s worldview aligned closely with the establishment
liberalism of the Kennedy and early Johnson years. Star Trek’s original
pilot episode, ‘The Cage,’ was finished in early 1965. Its copyright date
is given as 1964. This means that the pilot was conceived and produced
within a few months of July 1964’s Civil Rights Act, and finished
while the August 1965 Voting Rights Act was debated. Star Trek was
a contemporary of the most triumphal few months of a long, often
opposed movement toward an expansion of civil rights in the United
States, a winning streak for progressives not to be repeated throughout
the rest of the century.
Celebrating such seemingly measurable successes in humanity’s
progress, the program took on an often triumphant air of inevitably
positive outcomes of human history. It dealt constantly with issues of
the day, be they nuclear war and atomic military buildup, the clear
and present racism of the American South, sexism, or other problems
humanity had supposedly transcended before heading to space. The
casual racism of the original series, easily visible in its transposed
identity of purportedly gentle ribbing of Leonard Nimoy’s Spock, the
only member of the main cast portraying an alien, however, attest to
the fact that this was only ever skin-deep.
 HISTORY, LIBERALISM, AND DISCOVERY ’S COLD WAR ROOTS 51

Breaking New Ground But Few Rules

When Star Trek premiered on television in 1966, it did not set itself
apart through revolutionary storytelling. Rather, what the series did
masterfully was to package a liberal consensus zeitgeist prevalent in
American society – at least in the echelons of popular culture producers
and policy-making elites – into a cross between a Western drama and a
sci-fi anthology show. Presenting a mixture between spacey adventure
and philosophical morality plays became the series’ hallmark. In this it
owed much to the ‘Golden Age of Science Fiction’ in the United States.
One-time writer and prolific editor John W. Campbell had begun his run
as the might at the helm of Astounding science fiction magazine in 1937,
publishing a gamut of writers from Isaac Asimov to Robert A. Heinlein to
a then still firmly bread-and-butter sci-fi L. Ron Hubbard. This would lay
the groundwork for the ascent of the science fiction genre at mid-century
(Nevala-Lee, 2018, 6–14). At the beginning of the 1960s, science fiction
was beginning to be taken somewhat more seriously by television. In
the United Kingdom, the BBC in 1962 commissioned an internal survey
as to how science fiction, despite being ‘overwhelmingly American in
bulk,’ could be made usable for the company (Frick and Bull, 1962). Still,
the genre was typically considered exclusively scientific, rational, aseptic
almost. Character development was low on writers’ priority lists, leading
to hackneyed and heavy-handed moralizing as well as stilted dialogue.
Science fiction, for all its dreams of worlds and worlds of dreams was
devoid of blood and emotion. It was coded as male, but not fit for most
adults, skewing towards boys instead.
Star Trek wanted to address adults. Although TOS finished before the
first moon landing, it epitomized the hopes of the space age at the same
time that it told morality tales about the dangers of the atomic bomb
and racism. Fully infused by Enlightenment thinking and Cold War
liberalism, it had, only half on purpose, hit a nerve in a country that
still mourned John F. Kennedy and was ready to follow his successor’s
opinions that civil rights and a full-on attack against poverty were in
order. Star Trek was born of the Kennedy optimism, and it carried on
through the progressive social policies as well as the escalating Vietnam
War of Lyndon B. Johnson, incorporating always a criticism of vague but
definite threats – allegories on racism but also a hardly disguised jeremiad
on Nazi Germany, through the mirror of its fiction. The zeitgeist had
been what formed Star Trek’s vision, cribbed from NASA press releases
as much as from the pages of page-turners set in outer space. Now, the
show itself would become part of the zeitgeist, and become enmeshed
with America’s self-described mission of a peaceful conquest of space.
52 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Out of Time

As the liberal project waned and the United States became mired more
and more in the seemingly unending Vietnam War, Star Trek disappeared
from the airwaves. It was a future out of time. What kept it alive was its
dedicated fan base of viewers who sought moral clarity as much as they
sought escapist adventure to take them out of a troubled and troubling
time. When the historical developments that congealed into the moment
and appellation of ‘the sixties’ reached its clamorous peak in 1968, Star
Trek had begun its third and last season. NBC had been persuaded to
renew the series once, but it would not be persuaded again.
When Star Trek reemerged on the other end of the era-cleaving
1970s, first as a series of movies, then a series of television shows, it
was variously updated in terms of changing economies of attention and
of distribution. Yet it had changed very little otherwise. There were
captains, ships, space adventure stories, tales of the indomitability of
the human spirit, and parallels to current politics and historical events.
Movies based on TOS produced from 1978 through 1991 meandered
across genres, from effects-laden self-importantly serious science fiction
(The Motion Picture, 1979) to adventure stories (The Wrath of Khan, 1982;
The Search for Spock, 1984) to topical comedy (The Voyage Home, 1986),
to ambitiously weird but ultimately corny allegory (The Final Frontier,
1989) to era-relevant political drama (The Undiscovered Country, 1991,
an analogy to the fall of the Berlin Wall, filmed at the time the Soviet
Union was crumbling during the summer of 1991).
On television, The Next Generation (1987–1994) accompanied the last
years of the Cold War and its end, the show’s run clearly marked by a
transition from a known Manichean power universe to a Habermasian
new complexity of politics (Habermas, 1985). New enemies emerged,
both foreign – most prominently the assimilating cyborg race of the Borg
– and domestic; unrest at the Federation frontier led by outlaw citizens
unhappy with a border settlement, styled the ‘Maquis.’ These storylines
were picked up in both the franchise’s other 1990s entries, Deep Space
Nine (1993–1999) and Voyager (1995–2001) – one an exploration of war
and war crimes, of secularism and religion, the other an exploration of
a region of space heretofore unknown to the Trek universe.
Star Trek post 9/11 then veered in the same flag-waving direction
as much of popular culture. Not to be outdone by the likes of Kiefer-
Sutherland-starring torture-porn 24 (2001–2010), Enterprise created a
multiseason story arc surrounding an attack on Earth by the multispecies
Xindi, playing out a version of 9/11 in space. This incongruous marriage
of Trek with the neoconservative now did not sufficiently excite viewers,
 HISTORY, LIBERALISM, AND DISCOVERY ’S COLD WAR ROOTS 53

who were more and more turning away from network television, and
Enterprise was canceled after a shortened run of four seasons. More than
12 years would elapse until a new Star Trek television show appeared
again.
When it did, that show, DSC, had to navigate a thoroughly changed
media landscape. DSC debuted in September 2017 on the CBS All Access
streaming service in the United States and on Netflix internationally.
Formerly an online DVD lender, Netflix had launched its video-streaming
product in 2007. CBS’s service had been in operation since 2014, but had
languished for lack of content. DSC was a product of the streaming age.
Unlike its predecessors, it would not consist of seasons in excess of 20-odd
episodes each year, producing 15 instalments during season one instead,
with the number further reduced to 14 for the second season. The show’s
creators, chiefly former Voyager staff writer Bryan Fuller, consciously
experimented with the storytelling mode of the series. Initially planned
as the first glimpse into an anthology universe, DSC during development
became a more saleable straightforward story (Hibberd, 2017). Its change
of perspective from emphasizing the captain or commander of a crew
as the central character (most pronounced on Deep Space Nine, in which
Benjamin Sisko even becomes a pivotal figure of religious veneration
for the nearby Bajoran civilization) to spotlighting Burnham, an outcast
and convicted criminal, remained its most immediately obvious narrative
innovation within the Star Trek canon.
The new show was thoroughly self-aware in terms of its role as a
guiding light of inclusion and progressive ideals. Despite leaving the
show before its premiere, Fuller got his way in the casting of Sonequa
Martin-Green to play the first black female lead in a Star Trek series
(Hibberd, 2017). In the run-up to the release, the importance of inclusion
and diversity being a mainstay of Star Trek’s overall DNA was repeatedly
stressed. Martin-Green even called the series ‘a form of activism’ (Zalben,
2017). Discovery’s 2017 premiere was consequently accompanied by
laudatory fanfare as well as by the shrieks of self-described fans from
the right-wing fringes of internet culture who complained about ‘social
justice warriors’ ruining what some now disparagingly referred to as
Star Trek: Diversity (‘Morgoth’s Review,’ 2017). Beyond the unavoidable
backlash from the fringe, a function mostly of the changed discursive
sphere offering easily accessible platforms for such views since the early
2000s, could the tried-but-tired premise of humanity’s trek to the stars
still literally fly in the age of cord-cutting and on-demand video? And,
if so, how different would it be from Star Trek’s past?
Outwardly, DSC is organized much differently from other Trek shows.
It begins with the start of a war and features a crew whose captain
54 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

dies within the series’ first 90 minutes. Its main protagonist is not the
accomplished commanding officer of a ship, but an up-and-coming
second in command who makes a fatal mistake. The titular ship and
its hands-on captain only show up in the third episode. The focus on
Burnham and her story of redemption as the audience’s window to
the world of the series is new for Star Trek, if it is in keeping with
the narrative tendencies and complicated moralities of television in
the second decade of the twenty-first century. As is its whole-season
story arc. DSC’s Captain Gabriel Lorca in Jason Isaacs’s swaggeringly
broken portrayal is a war-torn presence who throughout the series
appears manipulative and has no compunction about leaving his friend
and lover, Vice Admiral Cornwell (Jayne Brook), to be tortured and
possibly killed by the Klingons. Seemingly, as the whole of television
became grittier, more morally ambiguous, and darker, so the new Star
Trek followed suit.
At a closer look, however, DSC merely takes the long way around
to living up to Star Trek’s founding credo. More than that, it restates
emphatically the Star Trek mission. The manipulative captain turns out
to have come from a dystopian Mirror Universe, a parallel dimension
that was visited multiple times before during several of the predecessor
series. By episode 12 (‘Vaulting Ambition’), he has been revealed as an
interloper, and by episode 13 (‘What’s Past is Prologue’), his second in
command, Saru (Doug Jones), virtually embodies the ideal of a Starfleet
captain: composed, determined, morally unimpeachable, and with an
uncanny ability to give rousing speeches about what defines Starfleet
and the Federation. Lorca, it turns out, was a new kind of Starfleet
captain simply because he was not a Starfleet captain at all. Through
this disclosure, the arc of the moral universe is bent back to where it
belonged in all other entries into the Star Trek canon.
The introduction of Anson Mount as Captain Christopher Pike in
season two further emphasizes the useful aberration. Portrayed as the
epitome of an officer and gentleman beyond reproach, Pike is the first
captain created for Star Trek, and DSC purposely uses his character to
reconnect with Trek’s past. The connection is made plain at the beginning
of season two’s ‘If Memory Serves’ (2x08), which features footage
from Star Trek’s 1965 original pilot episode ‘The Cage’ in which Jeffrey
Hunter, portraying Pike, is featured prominently. After this, the action
cuts directly to Mount’s Pike. By placing much of season two’s focus on
Pike, a white male American leader figure not just in the mold of, but
in fact the same character as, a 1960s Trek commanding officer, DSC
in its second season seems to course-correct perhaps a bit too eagerly
in order to dispel any notion that its deconstruction of the figure of
 HISTORY, LIBERALISM, AND DISCOVERY ’S COLD WAR ROOTS 55

the Star Trek captain in season one was permanent.2 In doing so, DSC
continues to negotiate the meaning of Star Trek in a changed cultural
landscape through the lens of its own Cold War origins.
The season one plot twist preceding Pike’s entrance into the series is
DSC’s initial solution to the dilemma of reconciling Star Trek’s Hartzian
streak with the demands of modern audiences: to be Star Trek it needs
to fulfil the franchise’s promise of a positive future, of heroines and
heroes that can be emulated and celebrated, of a middle-class mainstream
idealized American citizenry. Yet, to provide present-day viewers with a
taste of the less than perfect protagonists that abound in current filmed
entertainment, and that they therefore expect, it needs to be able to
portray such persons as significant characters. Much like Hartz, in order
for his concept of American liberalism to hold fast, needed to turn to
other nations to find relativity with which the politics of the United
States could contrast itself, the move here is to bring in alien elements
that through negative example illuminate the positive.
By largely externalizing the evil within its ranks, DSC can have its
cake and eat it, too. It can exploit the more complicated characters a
newly complex television landscape makes possible while staying true to
Star Trek’s idealism. In the end it cannot but circle back to the inherent
heroism of Starfleet officers who may stray from the righteous path here
and there but always return to it. An ambiguous non-Mirror Universe
Captain Lorca making problematic choices due to and during the war
would have been a noticeable deviation from Trek’s established playbook
– though not a total innovation, as the actions of Deep Space Nine’s Captain
Sisko in the sixth season episode ‘In the Pale Moonlight,’ in which he
compromises his constancy in order to convince an ally to join another
multi-episode arc war effort, make clear (Lobl). Revealing the Lorca we
have seen for nine episodes to have emerged from outside the normal
Trek universe instead, however, merely reaffirms the goodness of the
‘real’ Starfleet officers portrayed.
DSC cleverly avails itself of two kinds of audience expectations. The
expectation of a general streaming television audience is for multifaceted,
complex characters, while that of Star Trek fans is for a Star Trek show
that is infused with the franchise’s spirit. Playing these off against each
other, DSC threads the needle the only way it can. By having the mirror
version of Captain Georgiou, the Mirror Universe’s ruthless emperor,
survive and take the identity of the deceased Prime Universe’s Georgiou,

2
See also, in a similar vein, Sabrina Mittermeier and Jennifer Volkmer,
‘“We Choose Our Own Pain. Mine Helps Me Remember”: Gabriel Lorca,
Ash Tyler, and the Question of Masculinity’ in this volume.
56 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

it further frees itself to explore more stories of moral ambiguity in future

instalments while again externalizing villainy.
These moves set DSC up to not only discuss the issues of the day
– as it has done, for example, in refashioning the backward-looking
Trumpian ‘Make America Great Again’ slogan, both initially as ‘Remain
Klingon’ and then again as Lorca’s less than subtle ‘Make the Empire
Glorious Again’ – but to open up a dialectic of meaning-making from
within the text. Through deconstructing multiple elements of what Star
Trek has represented in the past, Discovery tests the limits of its narrative
niche’s affordances. By probing what Star Trek can get away with in the
twenty-first century, DSC orbits back around to defining what Star Trek
is, jettisoning negative constraints on the original vision and shoring up
its positive qualities. Discovery argues that Star Trek has been flawed all
along. By aiming to fix these deficiencies, it presents an even stronger
definition of what Star Trek’s liberal foundations ultimately are. In doing
this, the show emerges as not simply another entry into the long-running
franchise, but as a Star Trek that is deliberately about being Star Trek.

Conclusion

A Star Trek series that overtly embraces the ideas of its twentieth century
creation will necessarily always contain within it that inherently
twentieth century original text, born of the liberal idealized politics of
the 1960s United States. The inaccuracy of Louis Hartz’s analysis of the
American national past notwithstanding, as a creation of that time, it
was then and still is now an astute description of an important thread
in the quilt of American self-mythologization. Star Trek may change its
attitudes to a certain degree, pulling into the fold of inclusion more and
more marginalized groups. But in this it promotes rather than rejects
in the name of true diversity the American post-Second World War
conception of a unitary mainstream society which all should aspire to
be a part of, modeled on an enlargement of American, white, male,
elite ideals of progress.
As a product of 1960s popular culture, if it is to retain some semblance
of continuity in its internal canon, Star Trek can never fully escape this
origin. Hardly any voices have been more vocal about criticizing Star
Trek’s many deficiencies than its fans. As Constance Penley puts it: ‘No
one knows the object better than a fan and no one is more critical’ (1997,
3). What they have glommed onto in criticizing DSC has presented as an
impossible dichotomy: it is too much unlike other Star Treks in order to
belong among them, while being too much like the Star Trek of old for
 HISTORY, LIBERALISM, AND DISCOVERY ’S COLD WAR ROOTS 57

some contemporary viewers (Handlen, 2017; Rasmus, 2017). In truth,

however, this dichotomy is a dialectic. It is a productive exchange about
what makes Star Trek as a whole, which results in an expanded but
altogether affirmed definition of what Star Trek is. For good and ill, in
jumping forcefully on the ice of convention, DSC finds it to crack but not
break, and to freeze solid even more strongly in support of its weight.

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Philip Abbott, ‘Still Louis Hartz after All These Years: A Defense of the
Liberal Society Thesis’, Perspectives on Politics, 3.1 (2005): 93–109.
Daniel Bernardi, ‘“Star Trek” in the 1960s: Liberal-Humanism and the
Production of Race’, Science Fiction Studies, 24.2 (1997): 209–25.
Lara Bickell, ‘Eugene Pulliam, Municipal Booster’, in Benson Tong and
Regan A. Lutz (eds.) The Human Tradition in the American West (Lanham,
MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2002): 137–53.
Tiziano Bonazzi, ‘Frederick Jackson Turner’s Frontier Thesis and the
Self-Consciousness of America’, Journal of American Studies, 27.2
(1993): 149–71.
Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces (Novato, CA: New World
Library, 2008).
Lane Crothers, ‘From the United States to the Federation of Planets: Star
Trek and the Globalization of American Culture’, in Douglas Brode and
Shea T. Brode (eds.) Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek: The Original Cast Adventures
(Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015): 63–72.
Caroline Cubé, ‘To Boldly Go: The Hurried Evolution of Star Trek’s
Opening Narration’, UCLA Library, 11 October (2016), www.
l i b r a r y. u c l a . e d u / b l o g /s p e c i a l / 2 016 / 10 / 11 / t o - b o l d l y - g o - t h e -
hurried-evolution-of-star-treks-opening-narration.
Alice Frick and Donald Bull, ‘Science Fiction’, BBC, March (1962), http://
www.bbc.co.uk/archive/doctorwho/6400.shtml. BBC Archive.
John Lewis Gaddis, The Cold War: A New History (London: Penguin UK, 2005).
Brigitte Georgi-Findlay, ‘Politische Bildung durch Bonanza & Co.?’, in Anja
Besand (ed.) Von Game of Thrones bis House of Cards: Politische Perspektiven in
Fernsehserien (Wiesbaden: Springer Fachmedien, 2018): 207–23.
Susan R. Gibberman, Star Trek: An Annotated Guide to Resources on the
Development, the Phenomenon, the People, the Television Series, the Films, the
Novels, and the Recordings (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 1991).
A.M. Gittlitz, ‘“Make It So”: “Star Trek” and Its Debt to Revolutionary
Socialism’, The New York Times, 20 January (2018), www.nytimes.
com/2017/07/24/opinion/make-it-so-star-trek-and-its-debt-to-revolu-
tionary-socialism.html.
John G. Gunnell, ‘Louis Hartz and the Liberal Metaphor: A Half-Century
Later’, Studies in American Political Development, 19.2 (2005): 196–205.
58 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Jürgen Habermas, Die neue Unübersichtlichkeit (Berlin: Suhrkamp, 1985).

Zack Handlen, ‘Another Episode with Too Much Star Trek, Not Enough
Discovery’, The A.V. Club, 22 October (2017), www.avclub.com/
another-episode-with-too-much-star-trek-not-enough-dis-1819758431.
Louis Hartz, The Liberal Tradition in America (New York: Harcourt, Brace and
Company, 1955).
James Hibberd, ‘Bryan Fuller on “Star Trek: Discovery” Exit: “I Got
to Dream Big”’, EW.Com, 28 July (2017), ew.com/tv/2017/07/28/
bryan-fuller-star-trek-discovery/.
Irving Horowitz and Arthur Schlesinger, The Vital Center: Politics of Freedom
(Milton Park: Taylor & Francis, 2017).
James T. Kloppenberg, ‘In Retrospect: Louis Hartz’s “The Liberal Tradition
in America”’, Reviews in American History, 29.3 (2001): 460–78.
Monique Laney, German Rocketeers in the Heart of Dixie: Making Sense of the Nazi
Past during the Civil Rights Era (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2015).
Morgoth, ‘Star Trek Diversity: We Are the Klingons Now!’, Morgoth’s
Review, 30 September (2017), nwioqeqkdf.blogspot.com/2017/09/star-trek-
diversity-we-are-klingons-now.html.
Alec Nevala-Lee, Astounding: John W. Campbell, Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein,
L. Ron Hubbard, and the Golden Age of Science Fiction (New York: HarperCollins,
2018).
Mike O’Connor, ‘Liberals in Space: The 1960s Politics of Star Trek’, The
Sixties, 5.2 (2012): 185–203.
Constance Penley, NASA/Trek: Popular Science and Sex in America (London:
Verso, 1997).
Stefan Rabitsch, Star Trek and the British Age of Sail: The Maritime Influence
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Daniel Rasmus, ‘“Star Trek: Discovery” Dazzles But Fails to Engage’,
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Experience in America’, Schmooze ‘Tickets’, March (2006), digitalcommons.
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the Federation: International Law and “Star Trek: The Next Generation”’,
in Robert H. Chaires and Bradley Stewart Chilton (eds.) Star Trek
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American Century: Essays on the Political Culture of Twentieth Century America
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Robert Tracinski, ‘Is Star Trek Really Anti-Libertarian?’, The Federalist,

22 October (2014), thefederalist.com/2014/10/22/trekonomics-is-star-trek-
really-anti-libertarian.
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John Wills, ‘“Wagon Train to the Stars”: Star Trek, the Western Frontier,
and American Values’, in Douglas Brode and Shea T. Brode (eds.)
Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek: The Original Cast Adventures (Lanham, MD:
Rowman & Littlefield, 2015): 1–11.
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Tim Worstall, ‘Star Trek Economics Is Just True Communism Arriving’,
Forbes, 5 October (2015), www.forbes.com/sites/timworstall/2015/10/05/
star-trek-economics-is-just-true-communism-arriving.
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green-activism.

Episodes and Films Cited

‘The Menagerie, Part Two.’ Star Trek, written by Gene Roddenberry, directed
by Robert Butler, Desilu Studios, 24 November, 1966.
‘The Cage.’ Star Trek, written by Gene Roddenberry, directed by Robert
Butler, Desilu Studios, 4 October, 1988.
‘Family.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Ronald D. Moore, directed
by Les Landau, Paramount Television Studios, 29 September, 1990.
‘Emissary.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Michael Piller, directed by
David Carson, Paramount Television, 3 January, 1993.
‘In the Pale Moonlight.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Michael Taylor,
directed by Victor Lobl, Paramount Television Studios, 15 April, 1998.
‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 1 October, 2017.
‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kemp Powers, directed
by Lee Rose, CBS Television Studios, 15 October, 2017.
‘Vaulting Ambition.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordon Nardino, directed
by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios, 21 January, 2018.
‘What’s Past is Prologue.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Ted Sullivan,
directed by Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 29 January,
2018.
‘If Memory Serves.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Dan Dworkin and Jay
Beattie, directed by T.J. Scott, CBS Television Studios, 7 March, 2019.
60 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. 1982. Directed by Nicholas Meyer. Paramount
Pictures.
Star Trek III: The Search for Spock. 1984. Directed by Leonard Nimoy.
Paramount Pictures.
 The Conscience of the King
Or: Is There in Truth No Sex and Violence?
John Andreas Fuchs

After two rather different seasons Star Trek: Discovery (2017–ongoing)

has firmly established its rightful place within the Star Trek1 universe.
The writers and producers have made nods to the original series and
the rest of the franchise right from the start. Between mentioning the
captains April (TAS), Archer (ENT), Decker (TOS), and Pike (TOS) in
episode 1x05 (‘Choose Your Pain’), or the Enterprise in episode 1x06
(‘Lethe’) to bringing back Pike (Anson Mount), Spock (Ethan Peck),
and the Enterprise in season two there have been Easter eggs for fans
in almost every episode. Lorca (Jason Isaacs) telling Stamets (Anthony
Rapp) to leave the ship when Stamets complains about the Discovery
and his research being conscripted for war (1x04) is similar to Scotty
(Simon Pegg) threatening to leave the Enterprise because Starfleet had
confiscated his research and the Enterprise has been given a military
mission while he thought, ‘we are explorers’ (Star Trek: Into Darkness
(2013)). This nod even to J.J. Abrams’ reboot is remarkable2 since
‘JJ-Trek,’ as hardcore fans call it, is rather unpopular with the fandom.

1
In the text Star Trek is used for the whole franchise. The different Star Trek
series are mentioned by their official abbreviations: TOS for the original
Star Trek TV show, TAS for Star Trek: The Animated Series (1973–1974), TNG
for Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987–1994), DS9 for Star Trek: Deep Space
Nine (1993–1999), VGR for Star Trek: Voyager (1995–2001), ENT for Star
Trek: Enterprise (2001–2005), and DSC for Star Trek: Discovery. Although the
fan made Star Trek encyclopedia Memory Alpha uses the more common
VOY for Voyager and DIS for Discovery, John van Citters (VP Star Trek
Brand Development at CBS Studios) lists the official abbreviations on his
twitter account as given above (Van Citters, 2016). When feature films are
mentioned the whole title is given. To avoid confusion the first reboot will
be mentioned as Star Trek (2009).
2
Yet hardly surprising since the movie was co-written by DSC showrunner
Alex Kurtzman.

61
62 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

But unlike the reboot, DSC avoids many of its mistakes: as sticklers
to canon will notice, the Enterprise has the right size, its phasers are
rendered in the correct color, and when planets are mentioned they
are where they should be, unlike Delta Vega in Star Trek (2009). When
it is at its best DSC gives its references to TOS tongue-in-cheek. While
on Star Trek (2009) it is still the famous red shirt, engineer Olson
(Greg Ellis), that has to die during the away mission over Vulcan,
DSC acknowledges the fact that security officers and engineers only
seem to die more often than blue and gold shirts. When Pike tells
Nhan (Rachael Ancheril), ‘Get your red shirt into an EV suit, Nhan.
You are with us’ (2x01, ‘Brother’), everybody expects her to die,
especially since the descent to the asteroid is rather reminiscent of
the space jump towards the drill that results in Olson’s death in Star
Trek (2009). But instead the blue shirt, science officer Connolly (Sean
Connolly Affleck), bites the asteroid dust.
Not all references are welcomed by the fandom; since Star Trek: The
Animated series is not seen as canon, mentioning Captain Robert April
twice (DSC 1x05, 2x01) on the show was not very popular. The only
other mention of April as captain of the Enterprise before Pike took over
takes place in the TAS episode ‘The Counter-Clock Incident’ (2x06)
when April (James Doohan, voice) and his wife Sarah (Nichelle Nichols,
voice) are passengers onboard the Enterprise. The strongest link to TAS,
however, is Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green)’s love for Alice
in Wonderland. Her foster-mother, Amanda (Mia Kirshner), used to read
it to her and Spock. In ‘Once Upon a Planet’ (TAS 1x09) Kirk (William
Shatner, voice) is surprised that Spock (Leonard Nimoy, voice) knows
the difference between the books Alice in Wonderland and Through the
Looking-Glass. Spock tells him, ‘My mother was particularly fond of
Lewis Carroll’s work.’3
Canon aside the fans’ biggest problem with DSC, especially with
season one, is the darker tone and the more military appearance: ‘Don’t
be fooled into thinking you can watch this with your family. It’s [sic]
tone is dark, there’s blood and gore (Ep 3) – and now they’ve dropped
the F-bomb!’ (Maven, 2017). They tend to forget, that – Damn it, Jim!
– cussing, sex, and violence have been a part of Star Trek since the
1960s. The only thing that has changed is their depiction. And even
the militarism is not new:

3
Although there have been minor references to TAS on TNG, DS9, and ENT
the ‘canonization’ on DSC might be due to the fact that CBS is planning a
new animated Trek-series.
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 63

Is Star Fleet [sic] supposed to be military all of a sudden? Everyone

wears the same color uniforms with metal badges, the phasers fire
in pulses now and the story is brooding and self-important. One
of the leads is super depressed and can’t get over the past. There
is so much hate and revenge. Crew members are getting killed
violently in space battles and throats are being slit! Everything is
saddled with some kind of deeper meaning instead of just being
space adventure. They try to connect it to real Trek, but they get
the details wrong. It’s almost like they are only doing it lip service!
Then they went and killed a character we liked …

…The Wrath of Khan was just way too dark for Star Trek. (Gaska,
2018; emphasis added)

During its over 50 years on screen Star Trek has become a good indicator
for the role of sex and violence in U.S.-American science fiction. It also
clearly shows what viewers will tolerate while highlighting the cultural
differences of its audience at the same time. Depictions acceptable in
the United States are not necessarily accepted in Europe and vice versa.
While TOS often showed its audience things far more sexual than fans of
the time were accustomed to seeing on television – Dr. ‘Bones’ McCoy
(DeForest Kelley)’s cabaret chorus girls dressed in nothing but pink and
yellow fur outfits with matching panties come to mind (‘Shore Leave’
1x154) – its depiction of violence ‘was not controversial in the United
States,’ although ‘it was seen as such in other countries’ (Finley, 2018,
161). The depiction of sex, violence and swearing evolved with the
viewers’ tastes and their times. From Bones’ ‘damns’ and ‘hells’ and the
forced kiss between Uhura (Nichelle Nichols) and Kirk (William Shatner)
in ‘Plato’s Stepchildren’ to other censored episodes like ‘Conspiracy’ (The
Next Generation (TNG) 1x25, censored for violence in the UK), ‘Rejoined’
(DS9 4x06, first same-sex kiss on Star Trek, censored in the US South),
or ‘To the Death’ (DS9 4x23, censored for violence), the use of sex and
violence as a narrative element on Star Trek has been progressing with
the times and is evocative of the decades each show was produced in.

4
Even though Memory Alpha lists TOS episodes according to their production
number thus making ‘Where No Man Has Gone Before’ (prodno. 6149–02)
season one, episode 1, I follow the order in which the episodes where aired.
Thus ‘The Man Trap’ (prodno. 6149–06) is given as 1x01 making ‘Where
No Man Has Gone Before’ episode 1x03 and ‘Shore Leave’ episode 1x15.
The production number 6149–01 belongs to the rejected first pilot ‘The
Cage’, which first aired on October 4, 1988 and will be given as 0x01.
64 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Seen in the context of the zeitgeist the newest addition to the franchise
is not any more violent, gory, or even vulgar than any of the other series
or feature films were in their time. Sex and violence have always been
an integral part of Star Trek’s storytelling and are a vital part of showing
its positive message of humanity’s future. And that is what DSC keeps
boldly doing. While season one explores war in all its gruesomeness –
just like DS9 did in ‘Nor the Battle to the Strong’ (5x04) and ‘The Siege
of AR-558’ (7x08) – season two focuses on two other typical Trek-topics:
exploration and religion. Everything seen on DSC has been seen on Star
Trek before. Georgiou (Michelle Yeoh) and Nhan’s illogical fisticuffs with
Leland/Control (Alan van Sprang) (2x14) – phasers can hardly harm
him so fists can? – as well as Leland/Control’s sexist remark ‘Women,
stop talking!’? Been there, done that.

‘There’s a stain of cruelty on your shining armor,

captain’ (Lenore Karidian (Barbara Anderson),
‘The Conscience of the King,’ TOS 1x13)

While a lot of TOS seems to be rather harmless and could even be

seen as wholesome family fun from today’s point of view, in its day
it sometimes seemed rather inappropriate. When the BBC first aired
‘Miri’ (1x08) in 1970 they received so many complaints from viewers
that they checked the rest of the episodes and decided to remove ‘The
Empath’ (3x12), ‘Whom Gods Destroy’ (3x14), ‘Plato’s Stepchildren’
(3x10), and ‘Miri’ from the broadcast schedule because ‘they all dealt
most unpleasantly with the already unpleasant subjects of madness,
torture, sadism and disease’ (BBC quoted in Cockburn, 2014, 33).
‘The Empath,’ ‘Whom Gods Destroy,’ ‘Plato’s Stepchildren’ first aired
in 1992 and ‘Miri’ was not rerun until 1993 (cf. Cockburn, 2014, 33;
Berkman, 2016, 42).5

5
In ‘Miri’ the Enterprise discovers an Earth-like planet that was devastated by
a horrific degenerative disease and is now populated entirely by children.
Everybody reaching puberty succumbs to the disease becomes insane and
dies. In ‘The Empath’ Kirk, Spock, and McCoy become the subjects of an
alien experiment whose mysterious intention involves a beautiful, empathic
woman. She is able to heal wounds empathically by transferring the wound
and the pain to her own body. In order the see if she is willing to do so
Kirk, Spock, and McCoy are tortured by aliens. In ‘Whom Gods Destroy’
Kirk and Spock are held captive in an insane asylum by a former Starfleet
hero who tortures Kirk. ‘Plato’s Stepchildren’ features the famous kiss
between Kirk and Uhura.
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 65

TOS had a rather violent start, which was no coincidence. During the
first episode ‘The Man Trap’ (aired September 8, 1966) four crewmen
– none of them a redshirt by the way – and one civilian are killed
by a salt-sucking alien. The salt-vampire also brutally attacks Spock
(Leonard Nimoy) and Captain Kirk before being shot and killed by Dr.
McCoy. Gene Roddenberry described Star Trek as ‘“Wagon Train to the
stars”’ (Altman and Gross, 2016a, 31), a Western in a science fiction
setting. Space has become ‘the final frontier’ setting the tone for the
series. The frontier ‘makes us Americans,’ claims Thomas Doherty. ‘We
have to have initiative and inventiveness and youth and strength and
canniness to survive on the frontier – and also we also [sic] have to
kill the Indians’ (Altman and Gross, 2016a, 33). Violence is part of the
American DNA.6 Thus, the death toll for the first episode could have been
even higher. In ‘Where No Man Has Gone Before’ (aired September 22,
1966), intended to be the pilot, 12 members of the Enterprise-crew are
killed. However only three deaths are witnessed by the audience; nine
are reported by Spock. NBC executives felt that ‘Where No Man Has
Gone Before’ was ‘too expository in terms of the series concept and
characters’ (Solow and Justman, 1997, 162) and decided that the show
should start with either ‘The Man Trap’ or ‘The Naked Time’ (1x04,
aired September 29, 1966; only one crewman killed). Assistant director
and later producer Bob Justman agreed with NBC’s decision to choose
the first after favoring the latter and suggests in Inside Star Trek: The Real
Story that it was ‘scarier and more exploitable than the others’ (1997,
163). The third episode ‘Charlie X’ (1x02, aired September 15, 1966;
two deaths, possibly more since a ship is destroyed) had also been a
candidate for first episode, but was seen as ‘too gentle a tale’ (1997, 163)
since it only dealt with the problems of an adolescent. There even had
been one candidate without any casualties, ‘Mudd’s Women’ (1x06),
but this episode was not considered to lead off the franchise because
it dealt with a rather salacious story about drugs and selling women,
or as Herb Solow eloquently puts it: ‘an intergalactic trader-pimp…
[and]… three beautiful women-hookers selling their bodies throughout
the galaxy’ (65–66). Its overall ‘eroticism’ (59) had also meant the end
for the first Star Trek pilot ‘The Cage,’ especially the ‘scantily clad green
dancing girls with the humps and grinds’ (61). Not only had ‘The Cage’

6
As the frontier myth has always been a part of Star Trek’s DNA (‘Space,
the final frontier…’). Richard Slotkin explores the origins of the frontier
myth and highlights the parallels between Westerns and science fiction,
especially Star Trek, in Gunfighter Nation (1998, 635–36).
66 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

been too sexy it also did not provide enough hands-on violence as Gene
Roddenberry recalls:

I should actually have ended it with a fistfight between the hero

and the villain if I wanted it on television … because that’s the way
shows were being made at the time. The great mass audience would
say, ‘Well, if you don’t have a fistfight when it’s ended, how do we
know that’s the finish?’ and things like that. (Asherman, 1988, 10)

Sex, or any allusions to it, could not be tolerated, but violent fistfights
would have been fine; as long as the depicted violence was not ‘gratuitous’
as NBC’s Programming department demanded. ‘However,’ Bob Justman
recalls, ‘the word gratuitous was open to interpretation … After all, if
we removed all “gratuitous” violence, the average hour episode would
run approximately seventeen minutes’ (Solow and Justman, 1997, 199).
Yet another NBC department, Broadcast Standards, always knew what
gratuitous meant, especially when it came to sexual connotations: ‘no
open mouth kissing, no nudity – not even exposure of an inner thigh
now and then, and definitely no nipples. Genitalia did not, do not, and
would not ever exist’ (Solow and Justman, 1997, 200). That is something
that has not changed as viewers’ reactions to DSC’s fifth episode ‘Choose
Your Pain’ show:

I was deeply disappointed when ‘Trek’ reverted to using a specific

f-word on the most recent… Star Trek has always been a family
show – … it … didn’t have to rely on extreme profane language
(comparing Bones saying ‘damn’ doesn’t compare) just for shock
value such as obscene cursing or showing T&A [tits and ass] to get
its point across. If I’m blessed to one day have a child / children
I can’t show them ‘Discovery’ like my dad could TOS and growing
up with TNG because of the vulgarity – nor would I want to. …
I’m assuming now it’s just a matter of time before we see full
body nudity. I’d love to introduce my potential future children to
Trek and a belief in a better future – unfortunately, it can’t be this
series. (Perry, 2017; emphasis added)

Perry’s complaint is one among many of its kind to be found on

Facebook’s Star Trek group. Star Trek is falsely seen as a family show and
DSC criticized for not qualifying as such. The focus of Perry’s criticism is
the use of ‘fuck’ – and the possibility that there even might be ‘full body
nudity’ in future episodes. Many of the negative comments on ‘Choose
Your Pain’ and ‘Into the Forest I Go’ (1x09) criticize Stamets and Culber
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 67

(Wilson Cruz) kissing as well as their homosexual relationship. The

majority of the complaints are about sex or allusions to it.7 This narrow
perspective does not go unnoticed. On Facebook, Ben Taylor responds to
Perry’s post: ‘In the same episode we had someone get beaten to death
[and his head smashed by a Klingon boot], we had Lorca being tortured
and we had the rape of a prisoner of war, but yes let’s freak out because
a grown woman said “fuck.”’ What Taylor does not mention is L’Rell
(Mary Chieffo)’s phaser-burned face and the abuse of a sentient being as
a means of propulsion. By using the tardigrade as a living computer and
gravely harming it in the process, the Discovery crew is doing something
very similar to the crew of the U.S.S. Equinox on Voyager (VOY) who were
killing sentient beings to boost the output of their warp drive in order
to get home from the Delta Quadrant (‘Equinox’ 5x26 and ‘Equinox,
Part Two’ 6x01). Those who do not care about the profane language do
not care about the different forms of violence either: Morgan Jurmalietis
comments on Perry’s post, ‘I watch this show with my 4 year old [sic].
If she ever works on a spore drive[,] I have NO PROBLEM [sic] with her
referring to it as “fucking awesome”’ and Ian DelBianco adds, ‘I watched
it with my 10 year old daughter. Tilly cursed, stamets [sic] cursed, she
giggled, I shrugged and we moved on.’
What was true for ‘The Cage’ is still true for DSC. You can have
fistfights, but you cannot have sex, nudity, or any allusion to it.
Nevertheless, there has been even worse on TOS: sexism, sexist violence,
sexual assault and rape. As common as fistfights with barely connecting
fists were in the 1960s, so was sexism. Although TOS presented its
audience with an African-American woman serving as communications
officer it remained a child of its time and especially a child of its creator
Gene Roddenberry:

7
Here are two examples from Parent Reviews for Star Trek: ‘Previous series have
all shown great character and have wonderful lessons in them. Imagine my
surprise watching this, and in the fifth episode they drop not one but two
f bombs. Then to top it off the very first romantic relationship is introduced
and it is two men. Had to have a talk with my son after watching that
episode about language and choices. Definitely not appropriate for children’
(Wes V., 2017). ‘If you have traditional Christian morals, you should know
that there is, as in most modern series, a central gay couple. The hero of
the first series is gay, the doctor and he kiss on the final episode. They say
that they love each other a couple times. The thing that irritated me most
is that there are Klingon boobs. I’m not talking about the low cut [sic]
leather, or the side, or cleavage, but the top view of a fully bare breast. It
is in the middle of a traumatic flashback, but it certainly wasn’t necessary.
It’s the straw that broke this camel’s back’ (Brian F., 2017).
68 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Gene Roddenberry claimed to be progressive when it came to sexual

politics, but his actual practices belied it. He wanted the actresses in
the show to be visual sexual objects. Even uniformed female crew
members were not exempt. They were chosen on the basis of their
looks, and their costumes were designed to emphasize feminine
physical qualities: short skirts and high-heeled boots to show off
their legs, nipped-in waists and well filled tunics to emphasize [sic]
their female figures. (Solow and Justman, 1997, 216)

For female aliens it was even worse. Their costumes were designed to
‘expose their bodies and accentuate their breasts’ (Solow and Justman,
1997, 216); one of the best examples being Sherry Jackson’s outfit in
‘What Are Little Girls Made Of?’ (1x07) Jackson’s android Andrea is
also one of the many examples of female adversaries being overpowered
by Captain Kirk’s charm. Women – no matter the species – are clearly
marked as inferior to men. The few strong female characters ‘are
almost invariably represented as evil and/or emotionally unstable,’
Anne Cranny-Francis tells us (1985, 280). In ‘The Changeling’ (2x03)
the Enterprise crew encounters Nomad an intelligent probe seeking
perfection. Nomad tries to absorb Lieutenant Uhura’s knowledge leading
to the following conversation:

Nomad: That unit is defective. Its thinking is chaotic. Absorbing

it unsettled me.
Spock: That unit is a woman.
Nomad: A mass of conflicting impulses.

If the Vulcan Spock had said, ‘That unit is human,’ it might have been
an understandable though speciesist twenty-third century remark. As it
stands it is nothing but 1960s’ sexism. And yet again it is Spock who
utters the following when the crew tries to catch a serial killer in ‘Wolf
in the Fold’ (2x14): ‘… I suspect [it] preys on women because women
are more easily and more deeply terrified, generating more sheer horror
than the male of the species.’
It is a small step from sexism to sexual assault. In the ‘too gentle’ episode
‘Charlie X’ Charles ‘Charlie’ Evans (Robert Walker), a teenager raised by
Thasians and given special mental powers, sexually assaults Janice Rand
(Grace Lee Whitney), the captain’s yeoman.8 His assaults – like slapping

8
Editors’ note: There are persistent rumors that Gene Roddenberry sexually
assaulted Grace Lee Whitney on set of TOS, and consequently wrote her
out of the show. These rumors are fueled, in part, by allegations she made
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 69

Rand’s bottom – are explained away by Captain Kirk as mere adolescent

problems and overreactions. Charlie keeps pursuing Rand who finally slaps
him. He then uses his powers and makes her disappear, claiming: ‘Why
did she do that? I loved her, but she wasn’t nice at all.’ In Charlie’s eyes
it is Rand’s own fault. She had to be punished. That is a classic depiction
of the victim–offender relationship. The victim has given offense. She has
provoked the offender. Nevertheless, this scene is not discussed or even seen
in the context of sexual assault. In the episode ‘The Enemy Within’ (1x05)
a transporter-generated evil duplicate of Kirk tries to rape Janice Rand (who
previously had been returned by the Thasians). After the situation is resolved
and Kirk is one person again Spock remarks: ‘The, er, impostor had some
interesting qualities, wouldn’t you say, Yeoman?’ Spock’s completely out-of-
the-place remark did not cause a stir at the time the episode aired. Seen
today it might be considered worse than the rape flashbacks on DSC. With
them it is clear that they are not desirable moments, while Spock’s remark
suggests otherwise. TOS is the real wolf in sheep’s clothing. Everything
that is criticized about DSC is already there; less bloody, less graphic, less
explicit, but therefore left to the audience’s imagination.
The stage for nudity was not set by L’Rell on DSC either, but by the
hint of Nancy Kovack’s breast in TOS episode 2x19 ‘A Private Little
War.’9 TOS kept pushing the borders of what was possible on television,
advancing the ‘final frontier’ of Broadcast Standards. While being
progressive in many ways it still had to pander to the zeitgeist,10 and
appeal to the audience’s sensationalism. Maybe next time it would not
just be ten seconds of nude bathing.

in her autobiography The Longest Trek: My Tour of the Galaxy, in which she
describes being sexually assaulted by a man she calls ‘The Executive’
(1998, 5–6).
9
‘In “A Private Little War,” Marc Daniels had directed a scene in which a
shapely primitive maiden … [Nancy Kovack] … bathed beneath a small
waterfall. … if the viewer strained very hard, an occasional small portion
of Nancy’s breast could be seen.’ The producers went out of their way to
get the scene past Broadcast Standards as Solow and Justman recall. Before
submitting the episode, they added another ten seconds to the scene. ‘When
the restored episode was screened by Broadcast Standards, their reaction
was predictable. “You can’t show this sort of thing on television. Why you
can actually see part of her… her…” “Tit?” “Breast, Bob, breast. You have
to lose the shot”’ (1997, 355–56). Broadcast Standards could be convinced
that the scene was necessary for the story and agreed to keep it if it was
shortened by ten seconds.
10
Though there were many female lieutenants besides Nichelle Nichols’
Lieutenant Uhura, they often were relegated to the sidelines and women
were generally still seen as weaker than men.
70 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘Do you know the Klingon proverb that tells us revenge

is a dish that is best served cold? It is very cold in space’
(Khan (Ricardo Montalban), Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan)

As soon as the Enterprise boldly went to the silver screen it adapted

to its customs and the need to pander to a broader audience. In 1977
Star Wars had set high standards concerning special effects. It even
used CGI for the simulated swoop through the Death Star trench.
Star Trek had to follow suit and set even higher standards. Star Trek:
The Motion Picture (1979) was almost only set as a stage for showing
off special effects. The story, the action, and the characters suffered
– the movie flopped. With Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) the
producers remembered the idea of Kirk as a Captain Hornblower in
space.11 The Enterprise is styled more like a battleship than a ship of
exploration.12 While Star Wars fashioned space battles like air fights,
Star Trek II kept with the naval tradition. The Enterprise’s battle with
the Reliant in the Mutara Nebula is not only reminiscent of submarine
battles, but also of the battle against a Romulan warbird in one of
the most popular TOS episodes ‘Balance of Terror’ (1x14). While DSC
is true to this concept during the Battle at the Binary Stars (1x02)
– Starfleet and the Klingons engage in battle like ships of the line
– it goes Star Wars in ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part Two’ (2x14). Here
the focus is on aircraft-like shuttles and fighters deployed by the
starships. In Star Trek II, violence finally has become hurtful and
bloody. During Khan’s early surprise attack on the Enterprise a lot of
cadets get killed in the engine room. One of them, Peter Preston (Ike
Eisenmann), is critically wounded and while dying leaves a blood stain
on Kirk’s uniform. Preston’s bloodied face is a first for Star Trek. Khan
torturing Captain Terrell (Paul Winfield) and Chekov (Walter Koenig)
underlines the difference between Kirk’s crew – enlightened, peaceful
human beings – and Khan, the genetically enhanced despot from the
past. Just as Gul Madred (David Warner) torturing Picard (Patrick
Stewart) in ‘Chain of Command Part One and Two’ (TNG 6x10, 6x11)

11
Gene Roddenberry had read Hornblower when the novels were first published
in the United States in 1939 and the English captain soon became his
favorite literary character. In 1945 he even published a poem titled ‘Sailor’s
Prayer’ (for more cf. Rabitsch, 2019, 63).
12
While science fiction often dealt with the military, military science fiction
gained a lot of popularity during the 1970s and 1980s. Works like David
Drake’s Hammer’s Slammers series (starting 1979), Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s
Game (1985), and Lois McMaster Bujold’s Vorkosigan saga (starting 1986)
helped to established military science fiction as a subgenre.
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 71

does for Starfleet officers and ‘evil’ Cardassians. At the same time the
graphic depiction of violence fulfills the producers’ need to present
the audience with something new. In order not to get boring Star
Trek has to become either more violent – i.e. show more deaths – or
more realistic and detailed – i.e. show more blood, more gore (cf.
Eisermann, 2001, 34–35). These two elements culminate naturally on
DSC. The violence is not Starfleet’s violence but forced upon them. As
early as Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991) the next level had
been reached. Handheld phasers no longer disintegrate the targets,
but pierce them, leaving dead Klingons spinning and bleeding in zero
gravity. The critics liked it: ‘the Klingons’ spilled blood floats in the
air in eerily beautiful purplish globules; it’s space-age Sam Peckinpah’
(Howe, 1991, N53). The Star Trek movies followed Paramount’s need
to attract a wider audience and quite naturally adapted to the action
and special effects-oriented style of the cinema logically leading to
the action oriented theatrical reboot in 2009.

‘If you can’t take a little bloody nose, maybe you

ought to go back home and crawl under your bed’
(Q (John de Lancie), ‘Q Who,’ TNG 2x16)

When Star Trek returned to television in 1987 a lot of things had

changed. Klingons were now friends and allies, the captain was
French (notwithstanding Patrick Stewart being British), men wore
skirts known as ‘skants’ (but only in season one) and the crew was
even more diverse than before. But the more things change, the more
they stay the same – TNG is no exception. The Enterprise-crew kept
pushing the final frontier and meeting strange new aliens; some of
whom still wore skimpy dresses (‘Justice’), and even female crew
members were still experiencing prejudice (e.g. using flower pots as
weapons in ‘Qpid’ 4x20) and had to live up to the male audience’s
salacious phantasies (Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis) does not wear a
proper uniform till season six). Nevertheless, there were attempts
to have stronger female roles on TNG. Just like the Star Trek movies
were influenced by the new standards for special effects, TNG was
influenced by other science fiction genres and tried to meet the
viewers’ new demands. After watching Aliens Gene Roddenberry
told David Gerrold (author and story editor) about actress Jeanette
Goldstein, ‘That woman created a whole new style of feminine beauty.
We should have something like that in Star Trek.’ Supervising producer
Robert Justman agreed:
72 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

If we could get her, she could be a member of the Enterprise’s

onboard Marine contingent or MP contingent.13 This would
enable her to serve in a military capacity within our landing
parties. Her feistiness, coupled with her earthy physicality, could
create interesting opportunities for drama. (Altman and Gross,
2016b, 55)

Thus, the character of Tasha Yar, chief of security played by Denise

Crosby, was born. The problem was that Gene Roddenberry wanted
‘armaments and militarism to be deemphasized over previous Star
Trek series and very much deemphasized over the Star Trek movies.’
He wanted to ‘go back to the flavor of the previous series’ first year
when emphasis was on ‘strange new worlds’ rather than on space
villains and space battles’ (Altman and Gross, 2016b, 62). This led
to Denise Crosby being ‘“bored to tears”’ on set. ‘Fifteen-hour shoots
on the bridge where she had a few technical lines to repeat left her
feeling “brain dead” as a performer’ (Green). Adding to the problem
was the fact that TNG, like TOS, should revolve around three male
characters – Picard, Riker (Jonathan Frakes), and Data (Brent Spiner)
– as Roddenberry told Crosby during their final conversation leading
to Crosby’s departure. Tasha Yar became the first regular Star Trek
cast member to be permanently killed off (‘Skin of Evil’ 1x23).14
Boredom was not the only problem. Crosby pointed out, ‘“I think
they would have been very happy for me to wear really tight outfits
and heels and stick my tits out – believe me, they suggested it, those
very words were actually used.”’ According to Michelle Green she
‘noted that the franchise has not escaped this mentality yet [in 1997],
given the catsuits worn by Nana Visitor on Deep Space Nine and Jeri
Ryan on Voyager’ (Green; emphasis added). As far as strong female
lead characters are concerned Star Trek has come a long way to reach
Michael Burnham, Philippa Georgiou, Sylvia Tilly (Mary Wiseman),
and Katrina Cornwell (Jayne Brook).15

13
This foreshadowed the placement of MACOs (Military Assault Command
Operations) on the Enterprise on ENT as well as Starfleet’s more military
attitude on DS9.
14
Although she later returned briefly in a time travel/parallel universe plot
twist. Something which becomes a major plot element on DSC (cf. Georgiou’s
death and return).
15
For a more in-depth analysis of the variety of female characters in DIS see
Mareike Spychala’s essay ‘“Not Your Daddy’s Star Trek:” Exploring Female
Characters in Star Trek: Discovery’ also published in this volume.
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 73

On TNG, rape is also a topic. In ‘Violations’ (5x12)16 Deanna Troi is

telepathically violated by an Ullian (Ben Lemon). The scenes were clearly
recognized as rape and provoked matching viewer reactions.

‘Violations’ led to a temporary ban on TNG in my household

when I was about eight years old. The repeated ‘mind rape’ scenes
weren’t well-received by my father at the dinner table and led him
to exclaim, ‘this isn’t for you! This isn’t for any of us!’ Which was
funny in retrospect, since the only people home were him, me,
and the family dog. (RapidNadion, 2010)

On Star Trek: Nemesis it is again Deanna who is telepathically assaulted.

The scene in Nemesis marks a change in the treatment of characters
since Captain Picard in essence asks Troi to endure further rape attacks
by Shinzon (Tom Hardy) in order to gain an advantage over him. This
‘the end justifies the means’ attitude is something Picard would not yet
have done on TNG. It is, however, something Emperor Georgiou would
do without hesitation.
Although the Enterprise-D is a far less dangerous ship to serve on –
57 crew killed in seven seasons compared to Kirk’s 53 crew killed in
only three seasons17 – the depiction of violence is more graphic than
on TOS. During the first season there are a number of scenes with
violence gorier than anything on TOS. In ‘Conspiracy,’ which was
cut and censored in the United Kingdom as well as in Germany and
preceded with a viewer discretion warning in Canada, Picard and Riker
confront an officer, Lieutenant Dexter Remmick (Robert Schenkkan),
hosting a parasite. Rather unlike Starfleet officers they immediately

16
Telepathic rape has first been explored in The Undiscovered Country during
Spock’s forced mind meld with Lieutenant Valeris. The ENT episode
‘Stigma’ (2x14) confirms the interpretation of Spock’s actions as rape.
T’Pol is accused by the Vulcan High Command of having contracted Pa’nar
Syndrome, a mind-affecting disease. Pa’nar Syndrome is transmitted during
mind melds just like a STD. Not only did T’Pol become infected during
a forced mind meld, but Vulcans in the twenty-second century consider
melding a ‘unnatural practice’ (‘Fusion’ 1x17, ‘Stigma’). For more on the
topic of telepathic rape and rape on TNG cf. Sarah Projansky, ‘When the
Body Speaks. Deanna Troi’s Tenuous Authority and the Rationalization of
Federation Superiority in Star Trek: The Next Generation Rape Narratives’, in
Taylor Harrison et al. (eds.) Star Trek: The Next Generation Rape Narratives.
Enterprising Zones: Critical Positions on Star Trek (Boulder, CO: Westview Press,
1996): 33–50.
17
Only counting crew members who stayed dead. In both series there have
been a lot of revivals.
74 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

open fire with their phasers. Remmick’s head is vaporized and partly
explodes. When his body begins to dissolve the parasite breaks through
his chest Alien-style. Picard and Riker fire again vaporizing the alien
leaving Remmick’s exploded smoldering corpse showing his intestines,
ribs, and spine.
Gene Roddenberry wanted TNG to be believable and more realistic
than TOS. Part of this realism is the addition of conflict and graphic
violence; the audience expected as much since, as Rick Berman puts
it, ‘[t]elevision has grown up a lot. The cynical part of television’
(Altman and Gross, 2016b, 115). Although TNG still followed Gene
Roddenberry’s cardinal rule that there should not be any conflict
between the main characters – something DS9 and VOY circumvented
by introducing non-Starfleet crew members like the Bajoran militia on
DS9 and the Marquis on VOY – Starfleet officers were now allowed to
explore their dark sides. Cruel and violent acts were still reserved for
(non-human) adversaries, however, leading to the creation of one of
Star Trek’s most infamous alien races: the Borg, a cybernetic pseudo-
species. When Captain Picard is assimilated by the Borg and turned
into a drone he is physically and mentally violated and forced to
commit unthinkable cruelties (‘Best of Both Worlds’ TNG 3x26, 4x01).
As a drone Picard helps the Borg to destroy 39 starships causing more
than 11,000 deaths. Given Star Trek’s emphasis on each individual’s
value, to take away one’s identity, one’s individualism, is the greatest
possible violation in Star Trek, even more terrible than death.18 This
experience changes Picard and leaves a permanent mark as can be
seen in his violent outburst in Star Trek: First Contact (1996) when he
kills two assimilated crew members with a tommy gun. He does not
only want to stop the Borg from taking over his ship, but he is on
a personal quest for vengeance. On TNG the producers still followed
Roddenberry’s no-conflict rule and until First Contact it had been the
Klingon Worf (Michael Dorn) who provided the necessary friction. Not
being human but hailing from a warrior race enabled him to not be as
perfect as the other Starfleet officers onboard. In First Contact it is Worf
who wants to do the reasonable thing, abandon the Enterprise, activate

18
For more on the loss of individualism and the Borg cf. Fuchs, 2016, 167–70.
Also, rescued Borg drones, like Picard and Seven of Nine (Jeri Ryan), are
left with a severe case of PTSD and never fully regain their humanity
as seen in the following dialogue between Seven and Picard on Star Trek
Picard: ‘After they brought you back from your time in the collective…
do you honestly feel that you regained your humanity?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘All of it?’
‘No. But we’re both working on it… aren’t we?’ ‘Every damn day of my
life.’
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 75

the self-destruct sequence and destroy the Borg. Picard disagrees: ‘You
want to destroy the ship, and run away. You coward.’ Lily Sloane (Alfre
Woodard), a twenty-first century survivor of the Third World War,
confronts Picard in his ready room due to the crew following his orders
and calls him ‘Ahab.’ Picard smashes a display case in anger promising:
‘I will make them [the Borg] pay for what they’ve done!’ He comes
to realize he is indeed acting like Ahab and is able to suppress his
dark instincts and the enlightened twenty-fourth century human can
take over again. These violent outbursts, these insights into the darker
corners of Picard’s soul make him more human and are necessary to
make Star Trek’s idealistic future more believable.
Starting with TOS’s ‘Mirror, Mirror’ the crossover episodes fulfilled
the same function and were highly popular with the cast, authors,
and audience alike. TNG’s co-producer Hans Beimler argued for more
conflict from the very beginning: ‘I always said to Gene Roddenberry
that Shakespeare works three hundred years later because the things
that motivated human beings then still motivate us today’ (Altman and
Gross, 2016b, 114). The Mirror Universe episodes gave the authors the
opportunity to explore the darker sides of the main cast. The Mirror
Universe is always a place of more violence, eroticism and sex. Even
Intendant Kira (Nana Visitor) and Ezri Teagan (Nicole de Beor) kissing
in the Mirror Universe (‘The Emperor’s New Cloak,’ DS9, 7x12) did
not raise a storm of protests like Lenara Kahn (Susanna Thompson)’s
and Jadzia Dax (Terry Farrell)’s passionate kiss in the Prime Universe
(‘Rejoined,’ DS9, 4x06) did. Deviant behavior is acceptable for ‘evil’
Mirror-characters; however, none of the ‘good’ Prime Universe
characters should act in such unacceptable ways. Teresa Cutler-Boyles
points out that in Roddenberry’s vision for the future ‘sexuality will
be a non-controversial subject, perhaps open, always vanilla’ (2017,
43). The characters of the Mirror Universe, however, practice a more
‘deviant sexuality’ (2017, 42). But neither the Prime Universe characters,
nor the viewers have to be threatened by the Mirror characters since
at the end of each episode the Prime characters find their way back
through the Mirror and ‘the status quo is reinstated, and everyone
breathes a sigh of relief’ (2017, 50). This leads one to wonder if there
would have been similar outcry by Star Trek’s more hypocritical fans
if it had been ‘evil’ Lorca and ‘evil’ Stamets kissing on DSC instead of
Prime Stamets and Culber.
76 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘I’m going, I’m going, get off my ass! Sir. Get

off my ass, Sir’ (Jett Reno (Tig Notaro), ‘Such
Sweet Sorrow, Part Two,’ DSC 2x14)

With Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek has arrived in the twenty-first century.
It not only uses narration techniques and effects suitable for its new
audience, it also keeps boldly doing what Star Trek has done: holding
up the mirror to society with all its strengths and weaknesses. It also
allows for a much more human depiction of humanity. By taking
Emperor Georgiou through the mirror and essentially making her a
Prime character, DSC allows for the fact that even the darkest personality
might have some good in them. Georgiou reminds the viewer of not
getting too comfortable. With her there is no ‘sigh of relief’ just as today
there does not seem to be one for humanity yet. DSC refreshes the
franchise and comments – tongue-in-cheek – on some of the wrongs in
TOS. Those criticizing it for not being canon might try to watch ‘Badda-
Bing, Badda-Bang’ (DS9, 7x15) where Kasidy Yates (Penny Johnson) tells
Ben Sisko (Avery Brooks):

I know [it] isn’t a totally accurate representation of the way things

were, but it isn’t meant to be. It shows us the way things could
have been. The way they should’ve been. … it reminds us that
we’re no longer bound by any limitations, except the ones we
impose on ourselves.

If that does not help, quote Jett Reno.

Works Cited

Mark A. Altman and Edward Gross, The Fifty-Year Mission, The First 25 Years.
The Complete, Uncensored, Unauthorized Oral History of Star Trek (New York:
Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin’s Press, 2016a).
—— The Fifty-Year Mission, The Next 25 Years. The Complete, Uncensored,
Unauthorized Oral History of Star Trek (New York: Thomas Dunne Books/
St. Martin’s Press, 2016b).
Allan Asherman, The Star Trek Interview Book (New York et al.: Pocket
Books, 1988).
Marcus Berkman, Set Phasers to Stun. 50 Years of Star Trek (Boston, MA: Little,
Brown and Company, 2016).
Paul F. Cockburn, ‘Trek Britain: 45 Years on British TV’, Star Trek Magazine,
177 (2014): 28–33.
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 77

John van Citters, ‘TOS, TAS, TNG, DS9, VGR, ENT, DSC’, Twitter, 23 July
(2016), https://www.twitter.com/jvancitters/status/756983274208198656.
Anne Cranny-Francis, ‘Sexuality and Sex-Role Stereotyping in Star Trek’,
Science Fiction Studies, 12 (1985): 274–84.
Teresa Cutler-Broyles, ‘What We See When We Look in the Mirror: Star
Trek’s Alternative Sexuality’, in Nadine Farghaly and Simon Bacon (eds.) To
Boldly Go: Essays on Gender and Identity in the Star Trek Universe (Jefferson,
NC: McFarland & Company, 2017): 41–53.
Jessica Eisermann, Mediengewalt, Die gesellschaftliche Kontrolle von
Gewaltdarstellungen im Fernsehen (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 2001).
Brian F., ‘Why Do They Have to Add the Garbage?’, Parent Reviews for Star
Trek: Discovery, 20 October (2017), https://www.commonsensemedia.org/
tv-reviews/star-trek-discovery/user-reviews/adult#.
Laura L. Finley, ‘Star Trek’, in Laura L. Finley (ed.) Violence in Popular Culture:
American and Global Perspectives (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 2018): 160–61.
John Andreas Fuchs, ‘“Suddenly Human:” The Importance of Individualism
and Humanitas in the Star Trek Universe (1966–today)’, in Marko Trajkovic
and Joost van Loon (eds.) Faith and Reason: An Interdisciplinary Construction
Of Human Rights (Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag, 2016): 163–73.
Andrew E. Gaska, ‘Star Trek’, Facebook, 21 May (2018), https://www.
facebook.com/groups/Trek1701/permalink/10155412877266053/.
Michelle Erica Green, ‘Denise Crosby’s Trekkies: The Deep Impact of Tasha
Yar’, The Little Review, n.d., littlereview.com/getcritical/trektalk/crosby.
htm.
Desson Howe, ‘Trek Still Boldly Going’, The Washington Post, 6 December
(1991).
M. Maven, ‘Not Family Viewing!’, Parent Reviews for Star Trek: Discovery,
20 October (2017), https://www.commonsensemedia.org/tv-reviews/
star-trek-discovery/user-reviews/adult#.
Memory Alpha, November 2003, memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Portal:Main.
Jason F. Perry, ‘Star Trek’, Facebook, 18 October (2017), https://www.
facebook.com/groups/Trek1701/permalink/10154908186621053/.
Sarah Projansky, ‘When the Body Speaks. Deanna Troi’s Tenous Authority
and the Rationalization of Federation Superiority in Star Trek: The Next
Generation Rape Narratives’, in Taylor Harrison et al. (eds.) Enterprising
Zones: Critical Positions on Star Trek (Boulder, CO: Westview Press,
1996): 33–50.
Stefan Rabitsch, Star Trek and the British Age of Sail: The Maritime Influence
Throughout the Series and Films (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company,
2019).
RapidNadion, ‘TNG’s Most Violent Episodes & TV-14 Ratings’, The
Trek BBS, 12 October (2010), https://www.trekbbs.com/threads/
tngs-most-violent-episodes-tv-14-ratings.130332/.
Richard Slotkin, Gunfighter Nation: The Myth of the Frontier in Twentieth Century
America (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1998).
Herbert F. Solow and Robert H. Justman, Inside Star Trek: The Real Story
(New York et al.: Pocket Books, 1997).
78 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Wes V., ‘No Longer Family Appropriate’, Parent Reviews for Star Trek: Discovery,
20 October (2017), https://www.commonsensemedia.org/tv-reviews/
star-trek-discovery/user-reviews/adult#.
Grace Lee Whitney, The Longest Trek: My Tour of the Galaxy (Clovis, CA: Quill
Driver Books, 1998).

Episodes and Films Cited

‘The Man Trap.’ Star Trek, written by George Clayton Johnson, directed by
Marc Daniels, Desilu Productions, 8 September, 1966.
‘Charlie X.’ Star Trek, written by Gene Roddenberry, directed by Lawrence
Dobkin, Desilu Productions, 15 September, 1966.
‘Where No Man Has Gone Before.’ Star Trek, written by Samuel A. Peeples,
directed by James Goldstone, Desilu Productions, 22 September, 1966.
‘The Naked Time.’ Star Trek, written by John D.F. Black, directed by Marc
Daniels, Desilu Productions, 29 September, 1966.
‘The Enemy Within.’ Star Trek, written by Richard Matheson, directed by
Leo Penn, Desilu Productions, 6 October, 1966.
‘Mudd’s Women.’ Star Trek, written by Gene Roddenberry, directed by
Harvey Hart, Desilu Productions, 13 October, 1966.
‘What Are Little Girls Made Of?’ Star Trek, written by Robert Bosch, directed
by James Goldstone, Desilu Productions, 20 October, 1966.
‘Miri.’ Star Trek, written by Adrian Spies, directed by Vincent McEveety,
Desilu Productions, 27 October, 1966.
‘Plato’s Stepchildren.’ Star Trek, written by Meyer Dolinski, directed by David
Alexander, Desilu Productions, 22 November, 1966.
‘The Conscience of the King.’ Star Trek, written by Barry Trivers, directed
by Gerd Oswald, Desilu Productions, 8 December, 1966.
‘Balance of Terror.’ Star Trek, written by Paul Schneider, directed by Vincent
McEveety, Desilu Productions, 15 December, 1966.
‘Shore Leave.’ Star Trek, written by Theodore Sturgeon, directed by Robert
Sparr, Desilu Productions, 29 December, 1966.
‘The Changeling.’ Star Trek, written by John Meredyth Lucas, directed by
Marc Daniels, Desilu Productions, 29 September, 1967.
‘Mirror, Mirror.’ Star Trek, written by Jerome Bixby, directed by Marc
Daniels, Desilu Productions, 6 October, 1967.
‘Wolf in the Fold.’ Star Trek, written by Robert Bosch, directed by Joseph
Pevney, Desilu Productions, 22 December, 1967.
‘A Private Little War.’ Star Trek, written by Jud Crucis, directed by Marc
Daniels, Desilu Productions, 2 February, 1968.
‘The Empath.’ Star Trek, written by Joyce Muskat, directed by John Erman,
Desilu Productions, 6 December, 1968.
‘Whom Gods Destroy.’ Star Trek, written by Lee Erwin and Jerry Sohl,
directed by Herb Wallerstein, Desilu Productions, 3 January, 1969.
 THE CONSCIENCE OF THE KING 79

‘Once Upon a Planet.’ Star Trek: The Animated Series, written by Chuck
Menville and Len Janson, directed by Hal Sutherland, Filmation,
3  November, 1973.
‘The Counter-Clock Incident.’ Star Trek: The Animated Series, written by John
Culver, directed by Bill Reed, Filmation, 12 October, 1974.
‘Justice.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Ralph Willis and Worley
Thorne, directed by James L. Conway, Paramount Pictures, 9 November,
1987.
‘Skin of Evil.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Joseph Stefano,
directed by Joseph L. Scanlan, Paramount Pictures, 25 April, 1988.
‘Conspiracy.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Robert Sabaroff,
directed by Cliff Bole, Paramount Pictures, 9 May, 1988.
‘The Cage.’ Star Trek, written by Gene Roddenberry, directed by Robert
Butler, Desilu Productions, 4 October, 1988.
‘Q Who.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Maurice Hurley, directed
by Rob Bowman, Paramount Pictures, 8 May, 1989.
‘Best of Both Worlds, Part One and Two.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation,
written by Michael Piller, directed by Cliff Bole, Paramount Pictures,
18  June/24 September, 1990.
‘Qpid.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Randee Russell and Ira
Steven Behr, directed by Cliff Bole, Paramount Pictures, 22 April, 1991.
‘Violations.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Shari Goodhartz,
T. Michael, and Pamela Gray, directed by Robert Wiemer, Paramount
Pictures, 3 February, 1992.
‘Chain of Command, Part One and Two.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation,
written by Frank Abatemarco, directed by Robert Scheerer, Paramount
Pictures, 14/21 December, 1992.
‘Rejoined.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by René Echevarria, directed
by Avery Brooks, Paramount Pictures, 30 October, 1995.
‘To the Death.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ira Steven Behr and
Robert Hewitt Wolfe, directed by LeVar Burton, Paramount Pictures,
13  May, 1996.
‘Nor the Battle to the Strong.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Brice
R. Parker, directed by Kim Friedman, Paramount Pictures, 21 October,
1996.
‘The Siege of AR-558.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ira Steven
Behr and Hans Beimler, directed by Winrich Kolbe, Paramount Pictures,
18  November, 1998.
‘The Emperor’s New Cloak.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Ira Steven Behr and
Hans Beimler, directed by LeVar Burton, Paramount Pictures, 3 February,
1999.
‘Badda-Bing, Badda-Bang.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ira Steven
Behr and Hans Beimler, directed by Mike Vejar, Paramount Pictures,
24  February, 1999.
‘Equinox, Part One and Two.’ Star Trek: Voyager, written by Rick Berman,
Brannon Braga, and Joe Menosky, directed by David Livingston,
Paramount Pictures, 26 May/22 September, 1999.
80 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘Fusion.’ Star Trek: Enterprise, written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga,
directed by Rob Hedden, Paramount Pictures, 27 February, 2002.
‘Stigma.’ Star Trek: Enterprise, written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga,
directed by David Livingston, Paramount Pictures, 5 February, 2003.
‘Battle at the Binary Stars.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller,
directed by Adam Kane, CBS Television Studios, 24 September, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 8 October, 2017.
‘Choose your pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Kemp Powers, directed by Lee Rose, CBS Television Studios,
15 October, 2017.
‘Lethe.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Joe Menosky and Ted Sullivan,
directed by Douglas Aarniokoski, CBS Television Studios, 22 October,
2017.
‘Into the Forest I Go.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon Kim and Erika
Lippoldt, directed by Chris Byrne, CBS Television Studios, 12 November,
2017.
‘Brother.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Ted Sullivan, Gretchen J. Berg,
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Alex Kurtzman, CBS Television Studios,
17  January, 2019.
‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part Two.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Michelle
Paradise, Jenny Lumet, and Alex Kurtzman, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 18 April, 2019.
‘Stardust City Rag.’ Star Trek: Picard, written by Kirsten Beyer, directed by
Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television Studios, 20 February, 2020.

Star Wars. 1977. Directed by George Lucas. Lucasfilm.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture. 1979. Directed by Robert Wise. Paramount
Pictures.
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. 1982. Directed by Nicholas Meyer. Paramount
Pictures.
Aliens. 1986. Directed by James Cameron. 20th Century Fox, Brandywine
Productions.
Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. 1986. Directed by Leonard Nimoy. Paramount
Pictures.
Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country. 1991. Directed by Nicholas Meyer.
Paramount Pictures.
Star Trek: First Contact. 1996. Directed by Jonathan Frakes. Paramount
Pictures.
Star Trek: Nemesis. 2002. Directed by Stuart Baird. Paramount Pictures.
Star Trek. 2009. Directed by J.J. Abrams. Paramount Pictures.
Star Trek: Into Darkness. 2013. Directed by J.J. Abrams. Paramount Pictures.
 These are the Voyages?
The Post-Jubilee Trek Legacy on the Discovery, the
Orville, and the Callister
Michael G. Robinson

A network television series was noticeably absent from Star Trek’s

half-century anniversary. By 2016, the primary output of the Trek
franchise was a set of commercially successful feature films that
had retconned a substantial portion of the early series’ history and
consequently left later spin-off television series adrift in continuity
limbo. One year later, or perhaps one year too late, three programs
emerged to take up the mantle of Trek. This essay explores how these
series make a claim to a familiar science fiction formula legendary for
diverse themes and progressive ideologies even while deviating from
some elements of that formula. Plagued by production delays, Star
Trek: Discovery (2017–ongoing) arrived as the official heir apparent.
Set shortly before the original adventures of the U.S.S. Enterprise,
Discovery banks upon viewer nostalgia for Trek while also challenging
long established storytelling patterns through a serial narrative and
by having that narrative focus upon a female executive officer in
a complex crisis with personal ramifications. This program also
carried the weight of hustling for an online access system. The Orville
(2017–ongoing) was promoted as a Galaxy Quest-style parody in the
mode of its creator, Seth McFarlane, but the show baffled those
expectations by producing one of the most ardent tributes to late era
Trek. While humorous in tone and laced with asides, this series often
seems like a Trek program in disguise on another network. Finally,
the ‘U.S.S. Callister’ (2017) episode of Black Mirror (2011–ongoing)
challenged toxic themes at the heart of the classic space exploration
story while honoring the formula in a modern era.
Wrestling with a broad popular culture topic like Trek requires a large
academic perspective. As the legacy of Trek is central to this analysis,
mythology is a good starting point. In To Boldly Go (2018), Djoymi Baker
sees the franchise as a powerful circulator of past mythology and,
simultaneously, a creator of its own mythology. This process is neither

81
82 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

latent nor implicit. The various commercial forces that seek to profit
from Star Trek increasingly promote these ideas. Star Trek sells the epic
and the epic sells Star Trek. In one analysis, Baker examines the various
opening credit sequences of the Trek television programs in great textual
detail. Baker finds a trend towards increasingly Earth-centric imagery:
‘the “real” cosmos is subsumed into the Star Trek cosmos, a mythic
realm in which the strange promises to be rendered familiar and safe,
and where, ultimately, there’s no place like home’ (140). In another
analysis, Baker explores the interactive Star Trek: The Experience instal-
lation at the Las Vegas Hilton. This attraction allowed visitors to immerse
themselves in Trek-style environments and to enjoy ride experiences
that put participants into an adventure as the guardians of future Trek
continuity in their role as a possible ancestor of future Enterprise Captain
Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart). Baker argued,

[t]he timeline, the succession of series and films, the physical

artefacts that are both fictional and real, and the real physical
experience of a fictional Star Trek within the rides, all serve to
uphold the reality of Star Trek as historical future: a mythological
Neverland that is both situated in time and yet is also timeless
and eternal. (167)

While optimistic about the potential for fans to create meaning in this
case, Baker is careful to acknowledge that these Trek elements are largely
in the control of commercial industries. In essence, Baker argues that
there are qualities that are definable as Trek. While Baker’s goal is to
situate the modern mythologizing of the Trek franchise into the broader
study of mythology, the understanding that these elements are also
commercialized and promoted leads to an interesting corollary. Towards
the end of the book, while commenting on the franchise’s recent films
and the hints of Star Trek: Discovery to come, Baker states ‘Star Trek is
constantly coming up with these reimaginings, new beginnings and
further adventures that nonetheless draw upon its past, such that any
‘end’ feels entirely provisional’ (190). As a franchise, Trek continues to
reinvent itself, but in ways that also comfortably situate the new in
what has come before.
In fact, in this way, the initial trailers for Discovery invite the
connection to the past. Baker observes: ‘By calling Discovery a “new
chapter in the Star Trek saga” the trailer continues the promotional
strategy of the series that followed after TOS, which similarly sought
to link the franchise with myth, legend, and saga’ (191). Another way
to see this observation is to argue that Trek itself has a certain kind of
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 83

rhetorical force. Curiously, any new Trek can prove itself by linking to
the old Trek that passed before.
That paradox is reminiscent of John Cawelti’s ideas of formula. Cawelti
sees the propagation of a formula across popular culture as a balancing
act between convention and innovation. Certain set elements exist in
any story formula. For Trek, these might be iconic items like Federation
starships or themes about humanism, diversity, and exploration. Cawelti
maintains that in order to prevent staleness, formulas must innovate.
Again, for Trek, this might be moving the narrative even further into a
future setting like Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987–1994) did when
it jumped a century ahead or it might be adding more diverse actors
in leadership roles as in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (1993–1999) and Star
Trek: Voyager (1995–2001).
While Cawelti tends to look backwards across formula changes,
allowing them to emerge in his study, this analysis seeks a more
imminent perspective. As Discovery arrived in 2017, creators made a
tautological case for this show’s inclusion in the franchise’s myth by
invoking the myth. Or changes to the formula were rationalized as
being in the spirit of the formula. Roughly simultaneously, two other
properties arrived, Fox’s new show The Orville and Black Mirror’s episode
‘U.S.S. Callister.’ These texts also invoked the spirit of Trek while
challenging Trek, thereby demonstrating ways that Trek exceeds the
grasp of its owners.1
Discussing the legacy of Trek also requires a consideration of its legator.
Throughout much of the Trek franchise’s history, that role was assigned
to its originator, Gene Roddenberry.2 Roddenberry is undeniably central
to the myth of Trek. Consider, for example, the way that Roddenberry

1
Another way that the franchise exceeds its creators’ grasp it through
fan creations. See, for example, Kerstin-Anja Münderlein’s ‘“To Boldly
Discuss…”: Socio-Political Discourses in Star Trek: Discovery Fanfiction’ in
this volume.
2
A full recounting of Roddenberry’s history with Trek is beyond the
scope of this paper, but interested parties may find many authorized and
unauthorized histories available to understand the complex ways in which
Roddenberry was involved in the show from its earliest moments. This
analysis does not wish to fall for the traps inherent in auteur studies and
assign the role of the sole author of Trek to the so-called ‘Great Bird of
the Galaxy.’ Many creative people were involved in the shaping of Trek.
This analysis will also not explore the politics of that creativity nor will
it examine Roddenberry’s own attempts to secure that role for himself.
Readers are again encouraged to explore Trek histories for the many battles
Roddenberry waged with studios and the many battles other creators within
Trek waged with him.
84 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

appears in The Making of Star Trek. Co-authored by Stephen E. Whitfield

and Gene Roddenberry and published in 1968, the book purports to be
‘the first such attempt to tell the history of a television series’ (13). It
is very simple to tell when one of the co-authors communicates. Words
by Whitfield, which dominate the book, are printed in normal fashion.
Roddenberry is revealed to us through internal communications from
the series. When he communicates directly, Roddenberry’s words appear
in all caps. Here, for example, is Roddenberry talking about the first
series’ commitment to diversity,

intolerance in the 23rd century ? improbable! if m an survives

that long he will have learned to take a delight in the essential
differences between men and between cultures . he will learn that
differences in ideas and attitudes are a delight, part of life ’s
exciting variety, not something to fear . it ’s a m anifestation that
the greatness of god, or whatever it is , gave us . this infinite
variation and delight, this is part of the optimism we built into
star trek . (23)

To our modern eyes, all caps is the format of shouting and angry debate,
but our communication conventions did not exist then. Instead, this
quote and all the other all caps utterances in The Making of Star Trek
suggest importance. This is like receiving the direct pronunciations of
the god of Star Trek. Such is the position of Roddenberry in the Trek
mythology.
Roddenberry died in 1991, roughly the mid-point of Trek as a
franchise. Deep Space Nine, Voyager, and Enterprise aired after this time.
However, they were created by a finely tuned Trek-producing culture
industry at Paramount. What makes Discovery particularly compelling is
the gap that occurred before it arrived.

The Discovery

In its jubilee year, Trek was curiously both everywhere at once and
nowhere to be seen, a bizarre quantum state that was perhaps fitting
for a science fiction show. The story of Trek as a television engine
that could was well known. That the original NBC series somehow
survived three years and generated a massively successful franchise
was a testament to the imagination of its creators and the tenacity of
its fans. Yet, all those decades later, there was no new Star Trek for
the jubilee.
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 85

Metaphorically speaking, there were plenty of old favorites to ride in

the jubilee parade. Yet there was something hollow about that. There
had been renewed motion picture success since J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek
blasted onto the screens in all its lens flare glory in 2009, but these films
present retcons of the original series characters.3 That new Trek started as
old Trek. While there had been a consistent wave of new Trek programs
after Star Trek: The Next Generation arrived in 1987, television production
in the Trek franchise had stopped with the cancellation of Enterprise in
2005. An entire decade of the 50-year history had passed without any
new programming until Discovery debuted on September 24, 2017.
Unsurprisingly, there were legal reasons for this. As James Hibberd
reported in ‘The Story of How Star Trek Returned to TV After 12
Years,’ the Viacom conglomerate broke up in 2005, shedding Paramount
Pictures and CBS into separate entities. Paramount got the film rights
to Trek while CBS held onto the television rights. An agreement
explicitly prevented CBS from bringing any new series forward until
January 2017.
While it seems unlikely that fans would have minded an abundance
of Trek on their big and small screens, corporations like protection. As
Paramount preserved its creative space, CBS slowly drew up plans to
bring a new Trek series to the public. Their mission was to seek out new
viewers and new subscribers, to lucratively go where other streaming
services had gone before. CBS launched its All Access streaming service
in 2014 but there had been no compelling reason to use it beyond its
archive of classic television episodes. As Daniel Holloway reported,
Discovery was intended to be the first show with original content on
the platform. New Trek would be the lure that drew subscribers in to
the archival site. Delays in development meant that Discovery lost that
opportunity to the legal spin-off The Good Fight (2017–ongoing), but
expectations for the newest Trek were high. Les Moonves, chairman
and CEO of CBS at the time ‘had set a goal of 4 million subscribers for
All Access by 2020’ (Holloway, 2017, 8).
Trek television had been in this position before. Star Trek: The Next
Generation was a pioneering program in the direct syndication market
when it was released in 1987. Star Trek: Voyager was the draw for the
fledgling UPN network when it arrived in 1995. Still, the risks were
considerable. As Holloway (2017) summarized:

3
This is commonly called the ‘Kelvin Timeline’ after the name of the U.S.S
Kelvin, a ship captained by Kirk’s father. Its destruction marks the change
in continuity.
86 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

For CBS, however, the question looming over ‘Discovery’ is whether

the decision to place one of the most expensive shows in TV history
on a platform where it will be initially exposed to fewer than 2
million potential U.S. viewers is a good business move. Part one of
the premiere will debut on CBS, with part two available to watch
immediately after on All Access, where all subsequent episodes
will debut weekly. (8)

Holloway reported that Moonves further contextualized the risk by noting

that other networks such as the CBS television network, Showtime,
Amazon, and Netflix all wanted the show. Moonves was essentially
stating that there was no reason to worry about something so desirable.
However, as Jordan Zakarin reported in a September 2017 story for
SYFY Wire, there was fan resistance to the entire idea. All Access requires
just that, access. Stereotypically tech savvy Trekkers presumably have
reliable internet. However, these fans were being asked to shell out
more gold-pressed latinum to see the newest instalment in their beloved
franchise. All Access costs, as Zakarin notes, $5.99 a month or $9.99 a
month for commercial-free viewing. Discovery’s diabolically commercial
weekly release schedule meant that it would not be possible to buy a
free trial and binge out new episodes immediately as one might with
desirable series on other streaming platforms. Zakarin reported that fans
on Twitter announced they would watch the pilot on CBS, take the trial
service for the second episode, and then quit All Access.4
Other viewers must have been similarly affected. Anthony D’Alessandro
reported that while no specific numbers were given, the CBS network
stated that Discovery ‘drove a record number of single day signups at
CBS’ digital streaming subscription service’ (1). D’Alessandro also stated
that the show was also part of a very good month for that network: ‘In
addition to its single-day record, CBS All Access saw its best week and
month ever for signups thanks to Star Trek: Discovery, the fall kickoff of
the NFL on CBS, and the season finale of Big Brother and Big Brother Live
Feeds’ (1). Discovery also drove increased mobile phone sign ups, levels
that Janko Roettgers described that ‘CBS was able to almost double
the mobile subscription revenue’ (1). Matthew Jackson speculated that
these numbers may be higher because they do not include people who
subscribed through the CBS website. Jackson also wondered if some

4
Anecdotally, that was this author’s plan too. Unfortunately, this author
failed to reckon with the awesome power of the almighty serial format.
Subscription occurred immediately, driven by his and his wife’s fear that
someone would eventually spoil the show for them in the future.
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 87

of the increase was from people who forgot to cancel the service after
the free trial.
Discontent with All Access continued though. Not everyone chose
to experience the show in legal ways. As Hibberd reported for a
September 2017 Entertainment Weekly article entitled ‘Star Trek: Discovery
Already Getting Pirated A Lot,’ right after the pilot’s premiere, people
worked around the system: ‘Star Trek: Discovery is on the verge of cracking
Pirate Bay’s Top 10 most illegally downloaded shows in less than 24
hours’ (1). Resistance continued. A few months after the premiere, in
‘Star Trek Fans, It’s Time to Get Over Your CBS All Access Hangups,’
Jamie Lovett argued that the economic reasons for resisting the All Access
service were unfounded by comparing the cost of watching Discovery
favorably against the price of other activities such as movie viewing,
gaming, and comic book reading. Lovett also noted one particularly
interesting argument:

For some fans, the answer seems to be that its [sic] a matter
of principle. Star Trek: Discovery being on a streaming service
somehow goes against the egalitarian spirit of Star Trek as creator
Gene Roddenberry envisioned it. Some even claim that Star Trek:
Discovery only exists to convince people to sign up for CBS All
Access. Those people are probably right. But so what? (4–5)

While there were some controversial qualities to the way Discovery

arrived on screen, this was just the tip of the iceberg for the differences
in this show.
From its very conception, Discovery was designed to break expectations.
The original showrunner Bryan Fuller had envisioned a very different
kind of project. As Hibberd explained in his ‘The Story of How Star
Trek Returned to TV After 12 Years’ article, Fuller’s initial pitch was
for ‘multiple serialized anthology shows’ (2017, 4). Modelled after the
format taken by the American Horror Story (2011–ongoing) franchise,
these different programs were to be set in many different eras of Trek,
from a period before the original series into a future never shown by
Trek before.
CBS did not approve that idea but the network did greenlight a new
Trek series under Fuller’s guidance. As Holloway describes Fuller: ‘He
is not known as someone who prioritizes deadlines and budgets above
all else. In short: He is not a typical CBS showrunner’ (2017, 5). What
followed, therefore, was a fairly complicated creative relationship with
the network, leading to a series of delays in which Discovery’s premiere
kept being pushed back because Fuller saw it as not ready. When Bryan
88 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Fuller left the show in October 2016, Lesley Goldberg reported it as an

amicable decision based on Fuller being unable to dedicate time to the
Trek series and to American Gods (2017–ongoing) on STARZ. But Holloway
also noted that ‘sources close to Fuller and within CBS say that he was
pushed out’ (2017, 5). New showrunners Gretchen J. Berg and Aaron
Harberts had worked with Fuller and, as reported by Holloway, sought
his approval before taking over the show.
There was an awareness of the new nature of the program and its
potential to rupture expectations among other creative people on the
show. Sonequa Martin-Green, for example, expressed a certain kind of
reverence for the show in her pre-release press conversations. As the star
of the show, the future Commander Michael Burnham, stated:

Anyone doing a new iteration of ‘Star Trek’, you have to understand

how deep it is; you have to understand how important it is. You
have to understand how much of a pillar it is to our culture. I
think you need that in order to really give it the weight it deserves
and I think that—I hope that more than anything—people get the
sense of how serious we take this. (quoted in Holloway, 2017, 5)

Given the changes ahead in Discovery, it is almost as if Martin-Green is

making proactive reassurances.
While it was unusual for a Trek series to focus on a character
that was not the highest ranking officer on the ship, the fact that an
African-American actress was the lead on the program felt like a natural
continuation of Trek’s commitment to diversity, a line of change that at
least stretched back through Voyager’s Captain Janeway (Kate Mulgrew)
and Deep Space Nine’s Captain Sisko (Avery Brooks). As Zakarin discussed
in a January 2018 article, Discovery did get caught up in an anti-diversity
backlash that had heightened over the past few years in popular culture.5
Zarkarin called this activity, a ‘dull, hateful background drone’ (5)
and noted how the new Trek series had joined a group of other genre
texts that had come under fire from alt-right groups. Zarkarin also
rightly suggested that these racist opinions were antithetical to Trek’s
long-standing commitment to diversity, calling it ‘the franchise that has
most embodied those ideas’ (2018, 5).
How that main character ended up narratively speaking at the end
of the first two episodes was, however, more shocking. At the beginning
of ‘The Vulcan Hello’ (1x01), already vested deep in continuity as the

5
For example, readers prepared to be disappointed in some of their fellow
humans may wish to explore the Gamergate and Comicsgate phenomena.
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 89

foster-daughter of Spock’s (Ethan Peck) parents Sarek (James Frain) and

Amanda (Mia Kirshner), Commander Michael Burnham seemed about
to follow a standard Trek plot about career advancement as Captain
Philippa Georgiou (Michelle Yeoh) spoke to her about her readiness
to take on command of her own vessel. By the end of ‘Battle at the
Binary Stars’ (1x02), Burnham was Starfleet’s first official mutineer.
Struggles within the chain of command were not new thematic territory
for Trek either. Much of the excitement of the original series’ episode
‘The Doomsday Machine,’ for example, comes from Spock’s (Leonard
Nimoy) efforts to find a way within Starfleet’s hierarchical command
structure to oust the unhinged and vengeful Commodore Decker from
command of the U.S.S. Enterprise before Decker can recklessly obliterate
the ship as he did his own before it. As that classic episode exemplified,
such Trek stories always led to the vindication of the character. Discovery
ended its first two episodes with the main character tried, convicted,
and headed for incarceration.
In an interview with James Hibberd entitled ‘Star Trek: Discovery
Producer Explains Those First Two Episodes,’ series producer Alex
Kurtzman explained what he saw as the central dilemma in adding to
the Trek franchise:

It’s been 12 years since a new iteration of Trek has been on television
and understandably there have been a lot of crossed arms about
it. What are you guys doing? How are you going to make it different?
How are you going to make it the same? How are you going to honor Star
Trek? And those are the right questions. I had the same questions.
Even before [executive producer Bryan Fuller] was hired, I raised
with CBS that we cannot do a new version of Trek until we have
a reason to do it, a really solid idea and a movement that feels
new. (2017, 1; original emphasis)

Kurtzman explained that he and Fuller believed ‘there’s something very

powerful about setting the audience up to believe they were going to
be able to predict what was going to happen’ and then surprise them
(2017, 1).
Kurtzman was careful to avoid characterizing this as a stunt though,
locating the decision in the needs of drama. Kurtzman continued:

The chain of command exists for a reason, and once you break
the chain of command you are jeopardizing the lives of your crew.
It’s a tricky debate, and that’s part of what Star Trek is about –
controversial debate and moral quandary. The Original Series and
90 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

best versions of Trek were always complicated morality plays. It

felt like the right idea to launch a series. (2017, 2–3)

Thus, the innovation was a little more conventional than viewers realized
or wanted to acknowledge. The most shocking thing to happen in Trek
was therefore the most Trek that Trek could be.
A similar explanation could be found in regards to a longstanding
rule about interpersonal conflict on Trek series. As Hibberd summarized
it in ‘Star Trek: Discovery to Ditch a Long Frustrating Trek Rule’:

As part of Trek creator Gene Roddenberry’s utopian vision of

the future (and one that Trek franchise executive producer Rick
Berman carried on after Roddenberry’s death in 1991), writers on
Trek shows were urged to avoid having Starfleet crew members in
significant conflict with one another (unless a crew member is, say,
possessed by an alien force), or from being shown in any seriously
negative way. (2017, 1)

The injunction was considered stifling to the creative process. As Hans

Beimler, co-producer of Next Generation explained: ‘On Next Generation,
my argument with Gene Roddenberry was that he felt we were going
to solve too many of our problems. Human characteristics like greed
and that kind of thing were going to be gone’ (quoted in Altman and
Gross, 2016, 114). Jonathan Frakes, an actor on and director of various
Trek projects echoed these sentiments more succinctly when he described
the creative atmosphere on Next Generation: ‘They were deathly afraid
of conflict and that’s the heart of good drama’ (quoted in Altman and
Gross, 2016, 115).
Harberts explained to Hibberd that these restrictions were cast off in
order to make complex drama: ‘People have to make mistakes – mistakes
are still going to be made in the future. We’re still going to argue in
the future’ (2017, 2). And yet, Berg maintained in the same article that
this was not a violation of a sacred Roddenberry edict. Rather, it was
in the very spirit of Roddenberry and thus Trek,

The handling of these inner-Starfleet conflicts will still draw

inspiration from Roddenberry’s ideals, however. The thing we’re
taking from Roddenberry is how we solve those conflicts. So we
do have our characters in conflict, we do have them struggling
with each other, but it’s about how they find a solution and work
through their problems. (2017, 2; original emphasis)
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 91

Hibberd concludes the article by reminding the reader that Discovery’s

serialized format is not so unusual for Trek either, harkening back to
those seasons of Deep Space Nine in which the show took on a serialized
approach to the Dominion War story arcs.

The Orville

Where Discovery arrived as the heir apparent to the Trek legacy with
some potentially problematic elements, The Orville slipped in under
the guise of a Trek parody. It might be tempting to see The Orville’s
premiere two weeks earlier than Discovery on September 10, 2017 as a
pre-emptive bid on the part of Seth MacFarlane to take over the Trek
legacy. The two-week head start is more likely due to the vagaries of
network scheduling. Also, prior to the debut, there was very little to
suggest that The Orville was serious about anything.
Consider, for example, the trailer for the show. It begins with what
should be a moment of honor as MacFarlane’s Ed Mercer is assigned by
Admiral Halsey to lead The Orville but quickly shifts to embarrassment
comedy as Mercer is told he is not the first choice for the job and then
in his nervousness mistakes a marble for a mint. The remainder of the
trailer intersperses sci-fi imagery from future episodes with moments
of comedic smart alec remarks or situations. If those moments are not
enough to drive home the comedic intent of the series, at one point the
network-inserted cards in the trailer force a pun, telling us that ‘The
universe has a crew loose’ (Rotten Tomatoes TV, 2018). Everything signaled
a Galaxy Quest-style spin on Trek through MacFarlane’s unique lens.
What eventually became clear after the premiere though was that
The Orville was really MacFarlane’s ardent tribute to Next Generation-era
Trek. Critics initially pounced on the tone of this new program, often
implying a lack of identity for the series. Kelly Lawler said:

The biggest problem with The Orville is that it can’t strike a consistent
or engaging tone, at least in the first three episodes made available
for review. There are too few jokes for it to truly feel like a comedy
(despite appearing that way in the early promos), but attempts
at humor muddy the series’ ambitions as a pure sci-fi adventure.
(2017, 2)

Eric Deggans noted ‘a bro-centered style to this comedy that feels odd,
and stands at odds with Trek tradition’ (2017, 3). Caroline Framke notes:
92 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Every time The Orville starts to settle into something resembling

a rhythm in its Trek replications, MacFarlane will spit out some
reference to 20th-century pop culture – despite this show taking
place [vague mumbling] years into the future – or some variation
on #what a bitch my ex-wife is, amirite? (2017, 3)

Both Framke and Deggans also implied that The Orville may have just
been a gift to MacFarlane from Fox, a vanity project greenlit in gratitude
for MacFarlane’s track record of success for the network.
For his part, MacFarlane seemed resigned to the negative criticism. As
he told Erik Kain: ‘It happens almost every time I release a movie or a TV
show. I’ve grown to expect it from critics and so it’s not something that
really fazes me anymore’ (2017, 1). Lightening that blow for MacFarlane
was no doubt the surprising early success of the series. Kain reported
that although critics had slammed the show, it had an impressive 8.6
million viewers for its debut and it had earned a 91 percent fresh rating
from audiences (2).
Comparatively speaking, The Orville felt like the safer, easier to access
alternative to Discovery. As Mike Hale described it:

Mr. MacFarlane’s hourlong comedy emulates the original ‘Trek’

series to a degree somewhere between sincere homage and creepy
necrophilia. Its sets, costumes, and characters are so Trekker-esque
that it makes this fall’s officially sanctioned ‘Star Trek: Discovery’
(on CBS All Access) look like a radical departure. (2017, 1)

In the Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy, John Joseph Adams joked about
The Orville, ‘I would have bet you money that a good number of these
scripts were unused Star Trek: The Next Generation scripts’ (2017, 3). In
the same source, Melinda Snodgrass, a veteran writer from that era of
Trek, also saw similarities between old stories and the new Fox show.
Perhaps none of this should be surprising. Brannon Braga, a creator
associated with every modern television incarnation of Trek in some
way or another is executive producer on The Orville. If there were files
of unused Trek stories, Braga would have them. More importantly,
MacFarlane is a diehard Trek fan. As MacFarlane told Kain, shortly
after completing his movie Ted 2, MacFarlane approached CBS about
letting him take on the series. Ideas for The Orville started when CBS
declined the offer. In his foreword to an oral history of Trek, MacFarlane
relishes the opportunity he had to play a character called Ensign Rivers
on Enterprise. More importantly, he effusively praised the franchise. In
drawing parallels between Gene Roddenberry’s philosophy and that of
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 93

Martin Luther King, Jr., MacFarlane called Trek ‘that rare Hollywood
product that means something to mankind’ (xv).
Framke dismissed The Orville as ‘a show that might as well be about a
band of enthusiastic cosplayers’ (2017, 1). Who has more love for a series
than its fans though? The Orville is ultimately a show that gets as close
to being a Trek program as it legally can. Dana Walden, a chief executive
at Fox admitted as much at the Television Critics Association press tour,
saying ‘We obviously have a big legal team’ (quoted in Hale, 2017, 1).
Watching the program just requires a slight decoding. The ‘Planetary
Union’ is obviously Trek’s United Federation of Planets. The multicolored
uniforms of the Orville crew suggest their general function on the ship,
but the colors are just different, an experience not unlike going from Star
Trek to Next Generation. While the Orville itself is supposed be some kind
of run-of-the-mill ship, its sleek design and fantastic maneuverability
puts it in the same league as Trek vessels. Only the three rounded drive
units break from Federation starship design traditions. Characters evoke
classic Trek archetypes. In fact, Isaac, the Orville’s mechanical crewman,
so sounded like Next Gen’s Data that this author swore Brent Spiner was
somehow back until he saw the program’s cast list.
While the critics are right in that The Orville has some trouble
balancing its comedic elements, the weird obsession with twentieth
century popular culture is only strange within the context of the
show. Of course, it has to be that way. Seth MacFarlane wrote it. More
importantly though, modern viewers are watching it. Meanwhile, the
series has produced some remarkably Next Gen-style storytelling. ‘About
a Girl’ (1x03) may feature silly visuals about male aliens nesting, but
it also hits right at contemporary issues about gender identity and
sex reassignment surgery when a rare female child is born to the
ship’s Moclan member Bortus and his husband. ‘Majority Rule’ (1x07)
metaphorically examines contemporary social media ranking practices
through the lens of an alien society with a legal system based on such
rankings.

The Callister

The other heirs to the Trek legacy had been around for a few months
when the ‘U.S.S. Callister’ episode of Black Mirror streamed its way
onto television screens on December 29, 2017. The Orville had completed
its 12-episode run on Fox. Star Trek: Discovery was in the midst of the
intermission it took between the first and second halves or its first
season.
94 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

The episode was the debut of the highly anticipated fourth season
for the popular science fiction anthology series with a notably bleak
take on the possible impact of technology in our lives. Right away, the
episode signaled something very different from the typical episode of the
series. The official trailer for the episode highlighted a brightly colored
space opera epic in the mode of the original Star Trek as new characters
interacted on a ship’s bridge, braved a rocky alien world, and cheered
their Captain Daly. There was also a tinge of sarcasm in Nannette’s
(Cristin Milioti) reaction. More worrisome though, was the hint of
menace to some camera angles in the very beginning. Something was
going to go wrong. After all, on Black Mirror, something always does.
This episode broke its own formula though by breaking the patterns
already established in the show. As Anne Thompson noted, the episode
was long, involved science fiction, and, most importantly, switched
protagonists in the story (2018, 4–5). What appears to start as a contrast
between the dreary real-world life of programmer Robert Daly (Jesse
Plemons) and his more effective, virile avatar Captain Daly, who is
living out his Space Fleet fantasies online, suddenly changes gears part
way through the story when the viewer discovers that Daly is a horrible
human being in both worlds. The supporting characters on the virtual
U.S.S. Callister are digitally cloned from DNA samples that Daly surrepti-
tiously collected in real life so that he might gain control of these beings
in his fantasy world in disturbing ways reminiscent of the omniscient
little boy in the Twilight Zone episode ‘It’s a Good Life’ (3x08). Given the
generally dark endings of the series, Daly’s latest virtual victim Nannette
leads a surprisingly successful rebellion that ends with the avatar crew
free to explore cyberspace and the real Daly presumably dead.
Like most Trek, the message of the episode is delivered directly
and clearly. The defeat of Daly, who Zack Handlen succinctly calls an
‘arrested development manchild’ (2017, 4), by a diverse crew of rebels
led by a woman is the thematic takedown of particular types of toxic
masculinity that have become all too familiar. These are, for example,
the droning fans noted previously by Zarkarian, unable to process the
progressive expectations of their program. Nick Statt also likens this to
what he sees as an imminent cultural issue:

This Black Mirror episode suggests that while some big tech names,
like Bill Gates and Elon Musk worry about a superintelligent [sic]
AI enslaving or destroying humanity, the more immediate threat is
human beings, who misuse modern tools every day to manipulate
and harm people in ways an AI would never dream of. (2018, 7)
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 95

As is often the case, Black Mirror shows us people are awful.

The episode’s take on Trek is trickier to spot. Dany Roth (2017),
for example, creates a long list of references to Trek in the episode.
Roth notes clear references like the William Shatner-esque mode of
speaking actor Jesse Plemons exhibits when he appears as Captain
Daly in the cyberworld to more oblique connections between the
wormhole important in the conclusion of ‘U.S.S. Callister’ to the
famous wormhole on Deep Space Nine. Where some see a love of Trek,
others see a necessary deconstruction of the franchise. Darren Franich
argues that there is an interesting moment happening to the space
opera. Franich is tired of re-examinations of characters that really do
not produce anything other than the reaffirmation of that character,
like Luke Skywalker in Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017). Considering
Trek, Franich says:

Look, I love a lot of Star Trek, and it’s pointless to make any broad
statements about any story cycle that has lasted through so many
years and permutations. Then again: if we’ve learned one thing this
year, it’s that we can would maybe [sic] be better off if we started
to throw out some of pop culture’s most sanctified legacies. Or at
least question them? (2017, 9)

Franich sees the end of Robert Daly as symbolic of the end of our
devotion to old types and tropes.
These types of readings led to concerns by the creators of the episode
though. In an interview with Louisa Mellor, Black Mirror creator/
showrunner Charlie Brooker and producer Annabel Jones were careful
to point out that this episode was not targeting Trek. Brooker clearly
states: ‘We wanted it to feel more like an homage than an attack’ (2017,
1). Any negative comments about the Trek surrogate Space Fleet in the
episode are not about the show and thus not about Trek. Instead, as
Brooker explains, they are condemnations of Daly:

It’s his interpretation of the show, rather than what that show
would have actually been, it’s his simplistic fable version of it and
it’s quite reductive and out of date. We’re not saying that shows
of that nature are reductive and out of date, because they were
actually very progressive at the time. (2017, 3)

It is a now familiar refrain. Really, the only thing Brooker fails to do

here is mention Roddenberry.
96 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Their Continuing Missions

Like space itself, our popular culture universe is full of bright,

long-lived objects. Cinematic universes and franchises are commer-
cially desirable to culture industries and beloved by fans. Trek’s
longevity is impressive, particularly given its beginnings as a science
fiction television underdog. Trek certainly seems like a contender to
live longer and prosper more.
As Star Trek: Discovery demonstrates, the evolution necessary to keep
the franchise fresh is fraught with risks. These changes are not so much
smoothed over as they are paradoxically revealed as part of the intent
all along to create the same old Trek. Invoking nostalgic elements and
the spirit of Roddenberry are key parts of continuing this mythology.
Along the way, programs like The Orville or Black Mirror may also take
up that mythology as their own.
Like most things about Black Mirror, the future of the Callister remains
unclear. It is, after all, an anthology program. Meredith Jacobs reported
that Brooker and Jones would neither confirm nor deny that a possible
sequel to the story might happen. The highlight of Black Mirror’s next
season was ‘Bandersnatch,’ a disturbing exploration of the fracturing
of a young game designer’s psyche that plays out interactively for the
viewers. The remainder of that season came nowhere near Trek.
The Orville continued its mission as well. The second season trailer
opened with Captain Mercer making a grand speech to a table of
dignitaries: ‘In the vast emptiness of the universe, we have found a
fullness of cultural diversity. And when a first contact unfolds, the
cosmos becomes a living, breathing organism. And we become a way
for the universe to know itself.’ When complimented on the speech by
his first officer, Mercer replies, ‘Yeah thanks. I plagiarized it from like
nine different things.’ The only thing MacFarlane did not do there was
wink at the audience.
Interestingly, repercussions of the decisions in ‘About a Girl’ (1x03)
carried into subplots, but Orville’s second season still felt like more Trek.
The speech above is from ‘All the World is Birthday Cake’ (2x05), a
very Trek-like story in which the new civilization bizarrely obsessed
with its own kind of astrology oppresses citizens via their birth signs.
Season enders ‘Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow’ (2x13) and ‘The
Road Not Taken’ (2x14) entertainingly explore the consequences when
a time travel accident disrupts Mercer and Grayson’s (Adrianne Palicki)
relationship by bringing a past version of Grayson into the future, but
it is easy to see its pedigree as Next Generation’s ‘Yesterday’s Enterprise’
(3x15) by way of ‘Second Chances’ (6x24).
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 97

The Orville will move exclusively into streaming space for its third
season when the program moves to Hulu. It is tempting to see this
as a move to imitate Discovery, but Variety’s Joe Otterson (2019) and
Deadline’s Denise Petski (2019) reported that the move has more to do
with accommodating Seth MacFarlane’s busy schedule.
Discovery’s second season took up the surprises revealed at the end
of ‘Will You Take My Hand?’ (1x15) when the newest series’ ship
rendezvoused with the U.S.S. Enterprise. The second season narrative
arcs revolved around the Red Angel, an enigmatic time traveler from
the future that was eventually revealed to be Michael Burnham herself,
and a battle against an artificial intelligence created by the Federation’s
shadowy Section 31 with nihilistic ambitions to destroy all intelligent
organic life. Along the way, the series revisited and expanded upon
Captain Christopher Pike (Anson Mount), the U.S.S Enterprise’s captain
before Kirk. It also took up the ambitious task of integrating Spock
(Ethan Peck) into the Discovery storyline, allowing the program to flesh
out Burnham’s childhood relationship with Trek’s arguably most popular
character ever.
Playing with such iconic elements risked narrative confusion and fan
disappointment. However, all was still Trek. As Beth Elderkin reports,
before the second season began, new showrunner Alex Kurtzman was
already assuring viewers that while this Spock may not seem like the
Spock we know, there is no reason for concern. Kurtzman says, ‘And
that’s really exciting to us because it in no way violates cannon, it just
builds on what’s been set before’ (2018, 2). This quote, would perhaps,
make a good mantra for Discovery overall.
The constraints of continuity have become creatively tiresome though.
Discovery is taking its voyages elsewhere. Or, said more accurately,
‘else-when.’ The climactic events of ‘Such Sweet Sorrow,’ the two-part
second season finale, necessitated the U.S.S Discovery and its main crew to
leap 930 years forward into the future. As Kurtzman told Mike Bloom:

We love playing within canon. It’s a delight and a privilege. It’s fun
to explore nooks and crannies of the universe that people haven’t
fully explored yet. That being said, we felt strongly that we wanted
to give ourselves an entirely new energy for season three within
a whole new set of problems. We’re farther than any Trek show
has ever gone. (2019, 3)

Kurtzman returns to familiar assurances, ‘Star Trek is about optimism,

hope, and a brighter future. Even if the future turns out to be not as
bright as we hope, we are always striving to protect and preserve the
98 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

best version of it’ (2019, 8). Jonathan Frakes reinforced these positive
sentiments at a panel at Fan Expo Canada. As quoted by Jamie Lovett
in ‘Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Will Be More Optimistic, according to
Jonathan Frakes,’ the series director and Trek icon invoked the ultimate
Trek icon saying ‘The optimism that Gene infused in all of his shows
and in all of us may not be as obvious as it once was, but it’s certainly
the driving force of his vision and the franchise’ (2019, 2).
The great tautology remains. Even when they are not obviously Trek,
these voyages continue because Trek is always Trek. And like the greatest
of myths, that is how Trek will always survive.

Works Cited

Mark A. Altman and Edward Gross, The Fifty Year Mission: The Next 25 Years
(New York: Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin’s Press).
Djoymi Baker, To Boldly Go: Marketing the Myth of Star Trek (New York:
I.B. Taurus, 2018).
Black Mirror – USS Callister: Official Trailer [HD]. Netflix, 5 December
(2017), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qgTtyfgzGc0.
Mike Bloom, ‘How the “Star Trek: Discovery” Finale Pulled Off the
Franchise’s Boldest Leap Yet’, Hollywood Reporter, 18 April (2019), www.
hollywoodreporter.com/live-feed/star-trek-discovery-season-2-finale-
time-jump-explained-1203166.
John G. Cawelti, Adventure, Mystery, Romance (Chicago, IL: University of
Chicago Press, 1976).
Comic-Con 2018 Official Trailer: THE ORVILLE Season 2. 21 July (2018),
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lavy7qZ1aoo.
Anthony D’Alessandro, ‘“Star Trek: Discovery” Fuels Record Signups for CBS
All Access’, Deadline Hollywood, 24 September (2017), deadline.com/2017/09/
star-trek-discovery-cbs-all-access-record-sign-ups-1202176110/.
Eric Deggans, ‘Make It So-So: Fox’s The Orville’, NPR, 10 September (2017),
www.npr.org/2017/09/10/549407699/make-it-so-so-foxs-the-orville.
Beth Elderkin, ‘Star Trek: Discovery’s Showrunner Promises This Spock
“In No Way Violates Canon”’, Io9, 16 October (2018), io9.gizmodo.com/
star-trek-discoverys-showrunner-promises-this-spock-in-1829782919.
Caroline Framke, ‘Seth MacFarlanes’s The Orville Isn’t the Spoof Fox
Advertised. It’s Much Weirder—and Worse’, Vox, 10 September (2017),
www.vox.com/culture/2017/9–8/16267782/the-orville-seth-macfarlane-
review-lol-what.
Darren Franich, ‘In Praise of “USS Callister,” the Black Mirror Space Opera
to End All Space Operas’, Entertainment Weekly, 29 December (2017),
ew.com/tv/2017/12/29/black-mirror-uss-callister-star-trek/.
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 99

Geeks Guide to the Galaxy, ‘Don’t Give Up on The Orville Too Quickly’,
Wired, 30 December (2017), www.wired.com/2017/12/geeks-guide-orville/.
Lesley Goldberg, ‘Bryan Fuller Out as “Star Trek: Discovery” Showrunner’,
The Hollywood Reporter, 26 October (2016), www.hollywoodreporter.com/
live-feed/bryan-fuller-as-star-trek-discovery-showrunner-941587.
Mike Hale, ‘Review: Fox’s “The Orville” is Star Trek, the Next Regurgitation’,
New York Times, 8 September (2017), www.nytimes.com/2017/09/08/arts/
television/the-orville-tv-review.html.
Zack Handlen, ‘Black Mirror Beams into a Familiar Nightmare as
Season 4 Begins’, AV Club, 29 December (2017), www.avclub.com/
black-mirror-beams-into-a-familiar-nightmare-as-season-1821633354.
James Hibberd, ‘Star Trek: Discovery Already Getting Pirated A Lot’,
Entertainment Weekly, 25 September (2017), ew.com/tv/2017/09/25/
star-trek-discovery-pirated.
—— ‘Star Trek: Discovery Producer Explains Those First Two Episodes’,
Entertainment Weekly, 24 September (2017), ew.com/tv/2017/09/24/
star-trek-discovery-premiere-interview/.
—— ‘Star Trek: Discovery to Ditch a Long Frustrating Trek Rule’, Entertainment
Weekly, 23 June (2017), ew.com/tv/2017/06/23/star-trek-discovery-rules/.
—— ‘The Story of How Star Trek Returned to TV After 12 Years’,
Entertainment Weekly, 22 August (2017), ew.com/tv/2017/08/22/
star-trek-discovery-cover-story/.
Daniel Holloway, ‘Can “Star Trek: Discovery” Help CBS Boldly Go Into
a Streaming Future?’, Variety, 29 August (2017), variety.com/2017/
t v/feat u res/st a r-t rek- d i scover y-prev iew- cbs-a l l-access-sonequa-
martin-green-1202540540/.
Matthew Jackson, ‘Star Trek: Discovery Nearly Doubled CBS All Access
Subscription Rates’, SYFY Wire, 4 October (2017), www.syfy.com/syfywire/
star-trek-discovery-nearly-doubled-cbs-all-access-subscription-rates.
Meredith Jacobs, ‘Will “Black Mirror’s USS Callister” Become a Series?
Creator Teases There Could Be a Future’, Newsweek, 10 September (2018),
www.newsweek.com/uss-callister-spinoff-possible-1114207.
Erik Kain, ‘Interview: Seth MacFarlane on The Orville’s Unique Tone,
“Star Trek” Roots’, Forbes, 16 September (2017), www.forbes.com/sites/
erikkain/2017/09/16/seth-macfarlane-on-the-orville-going-boldly-where-
no-tv-show-has-gone-before/#14e08d7e5357.
Kelly Lawler, ‘Review: Seth MacFarlane’s “Star Trek”-inspired “The Orville”
Flies Off Course’, USA Today, 6 September (2017), www.usatoday.
com/story/life/tv/2017/09/06/review-seth-machfarlane-the-orville-
star-trek-fox/633304001/.
Jamie Lovett, ‘“Star Trek” Fans, It’s Time to Get Over Your CBS All
Access Hangups’, Comicbook.com, 12 November (2017), comicbook.com/
startrek/2017/11/12/star-trek-discovery-cbs-all-access/.
Seth MacFarlane, ‘Foreword’, in Edward Gross and Mark A. Altman, The
Fifty Year Mission: The First 25 Years (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2016):
xiii–xv.
100 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Louisa Mellor, ‘Black Mirror season 4: USS Callister “More Homage

Than Attack”’, Den of Geek, 29 December (2017), www.denofgeek.
c o m / u k / t v/ b l a c k- m i r r o r / 5 3 6 8 2 / b l a c k- m i r r o r- s e a s o n - 4 - u s s -
callister-more-homage-than-attack.
Orville Season 1 Trailer, Rotten Tomatoes TV, 6 March (2018), sdwww.youtube.
com/watch?v=cYRL93Ayp_g.
Janko Roettgers, ‘“Star Trek: Discovery” Almost Doubled CBS All Access
Mobile Subscription Revenue’, Variety, 3 October (2017), variety.com/2017/
digital/news/star-trek-discovery-cbs-subscription-revenue-1202579644/.
Dany Roth, ‘Black Mirror’s USS Callister is a Bigger Homage to Star Trek
Than You Thought’, SYFY Wire, 30 December (2017), www.syfy.com/
syfywire/black-mirrors-uss-callister-is-a-bigger-homage-to-star-trek-than-
you-thought.
Nick Statt, ‘In Black Mirror’s USS Callister, the True Villains are
Real-World Tech Moguls’, The Verge, 2 January (2018), www.theverge.
com/2018/1/2/16841938/black-mirror-uss-callister-review-netflix-season-
4-jesse-plemons-crtistin-milioti.
Anne Thompson, ‘3 Ways Netflix’s “Black Mirror” Broke the Rules with “USS
Callister”’, Indie Wire, 23 July (2018), www.indiewire.com/2018/07/netflix-
black-mirror-uss-callister-star-trek-emmys-jesse-plemons-1201987029/.
Trekmovie.com Staff. ‘“Star Trek: Discovery” USS Enterprise Design Change
Clarified as Creative Decision, Not Legal One’, Trekmovie.com, 17 April (2018),
trekmovie.com/2018/04/17/star-trek-discovery-uss-enterprise-design-
change-clarified-as-creative-decision-not-a-legal-one/.
Stephen E. Whitfield and Gene Roddenberry, The Making of Star Trek (New
York: Del Rey, 1968).
Jordan Zakarin, ‘A Lot of Star Trek Fans are Mad about Having to Pay for CBS
All Access’, SYFY Wire, 25 September (2017), www.syfy.com/syfywire/a-
lot-of-star-trek-fans-are-mad-about-having-to-pay-for-cbs-all-access.
—— ‘How the Alt-Right and Nostalgic Trolls Hijacked Geek Popular
Culture’, SYFY Wire, 17 January (2018), www.syfy.com/syfywire/
how-the-alt-right-and-nostalgic-trolls-hijacked-geek-pop-culture.

Episodes and Films Cited

‘It’s a Good Life.’ The Twilight Zone, written by Rod Serling, directed by
James Sheldon, CBS Television Network, 3 November, 1961.
‘The Doomsday Machine.’ Star Trek, written by Norman Spinrad, directed
by Marc Daniels, Desilu Productions, 20 October, 1967.
‘Yesterday’s Enterprise.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Ira Steven
Behr, Richard Manning, Hans Beimler, and Ronald D. Moore, directed
by David Carson, Paramount Television, 19 February, 1990.
‘Second Chances.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by René Echevarria,
directed by LeVar Burton, Paramount Television, 24 May, 1993.
 THESE ARE THE VOYAGES? 101

‘About a Girl.’ The Orville, written by Seth MacFarlane, directed by

Brannon Braga, Fuzzy Door Productions, 20th Century Fox Television,
21 September, 2017.
‘Battle at the Binary Stars.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Adam Kane, CBS Television Studios,
24  September, 2017.
‘The Vulcan Hello.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller and
Akiva Goldsman, directed by Davis Semel, CBS Television Studios,
24  September, 2017.
‘Majority Rule.’ The Orville, written by Seth MacFarlane, directed by Tucker
Gates, Fuzzy Door Productions, 20th Century Fox Television, 26 October,
2017.
‘U.S.S. Callister.’ Black Mirror, written by William Bridges and Charlie
Brooker, directed by Todd Haynes, Netflix, 29 December, 2017.
‘Will You Take My Hand?’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television Studios,
11 February, 2018.
‘Bandersnatch.’ Black Mirror, written by Charlie Brooker, directed by David
Slade, Netflix, 28 December, 2018.
‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part One and Two.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written
by Michelle Paradise, Jenny Lumet, and Alex Kurtzman, directed by
Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 11/18 April, 2019.
‘Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow.’ The Orville, written by Janet Lin,
directed by Gary S. Rake, Fuzzy Door Productions, 20th Century Fox
Television, 18 April, 2019.
‘The Road Not Taken.’ The Orville, written by David S. Goodman, directed
by Gary S. Rake, Fuzzy Door Productions, 20th Century Fox Television,
25 April, 2019.

Galaxy Quest. 1999. Directed by Dean Parisot. DreamWorks.

Star Trek. 2009. Directed by J.J. Abrams. Paramount Pictures.
Star Wars: The Last Jedi. 2017. Directed by Rian Johnson. Lucasfilm.
 ‘Just as Repetition Reinforces
Repetition, Change Begets Change’
– Modes of Storytelling in Canon
and Fanon
 From Series to Seriality
Star Trek’s Mirror Universe in the
Post-Network Era
Ina Batzke

To Boldly Go Where No Television Series Has Gone Before

Until the first season of Star Trek: Discovery aired in September 2017 on
CBS, all previous Star Trek television series typically conformed to the
prevalent narrative formats of their historical periods, i.e., most episodes
comprised single, self-contained narrative units. When this format
was ever abandoned, for example, in two-part episodes such as ‘The
Menagerie’ (The Original Series, 1x11 and 1x12), this most often resulted
not from a desire for narrative innovation, but rather from budgetary
constraints (cf. Pearson and Davies, 2014), or to generate cliffhangers at
the end of a season (for example, The Next Generation, ‘Time’s Arrow, Part
1 & 2,’ 5x26 and 6x01). With Star Trek moving to CBS, and particularly
its All Access platform,1 however, this traditional format – in parallel
to other television series adaptations for streaming services – changed
significantly: for the first time, Discovery intentionally was created as
a post-network serial, instead of a traditional television series with
‘extended seriality’ (Pearson and Davies, 2014, 128).2 Akiva Goldsman,

1
Only the first episode aired on the CBS network in a preview broadcast
on September 24, 2017. Following this cable network premiere, subsequent
first-run episodes of the first season were streamed weekly on All Access,
CBS’s subscription streaming service, through February 2018.
2
While the latter concept, ‘extended seriality,’ refers to Star Trek’s
longstanding capacity to form narrative links among the television series
and, occasionally, the feature films, the ‘post-network’ or ‘serial’ format
differs in that it is ‘distinct for its use of narrative complexity as an
alternative to the conventional episodic and serial forms that have typified
most American television since its inception’ (Mittell, 2006, 29). For the
reassessment of seriality in this project, however, I found it most useful to
not categorize television series as ‘serials’ or ‘series,’ but understand them
– and single episodes – as operating within a ‘series–serial’ continuum. The

105
106 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

(former) executive producer of Discovery, confirmed this observation in

a New York Times interview accompanying the release:

On a vintage ‘Star Trek’ episode like ‘The City on the Edge of

Forever,’ in which Kirk must allow a character played by Joan
Collins to die, [Kirk] is shattered. But he’s not allowed to carry
those feelings to the next episode.’ [On] ‘Discovery,’ [we] don’t
reset every week. Because serialization replicates life. (quoted in
Itzkoff, 2017)

In this chapter, I investigate how this intentional move from a traditional

series format to a post-network production with a pronounced focus on
seriality influenced not only the narrative structure, but particularly the
worldbuilding strategies and possibilities inherent in Star Trek. While
worldbuilding has always been a significant element of the canon-heavy
series, which thus far built worlds across seven television series, thirteen
feature films and various other media,3 I argue that the post-network
character of Discovery allows it to transcend, complicate, and even
contradict already established Star Trek story worlds and rules over the
course of the entire series. By doing so, particularly the first season
of Discovery blends into the oeuvre of second wave post-network series
that avoid promoting rather clear-cut Manichean binaries. In contrast
to a first wave of post-network series, that oftentimes have been direct
reactions to the 9/11 events (cf. Espinoza Garrido, 2018) and that were
informed by discourses surrounding the ‘war on terror’ narrative and its
justifications, productions belonging to this second wave are not direct
reactions to 9/11, but offer more nuanced interrogations not only of the
attacks themselves but also of their socio-political aftermath.
Looking at the first season,4 this becomes particularly prominent

post-network format hence put Discovery further toward the serial terminus
of the series–serial continuum, which in turn enabled it to enhance its
world-building strategies significantly.
3
Since this chapter zooms in on Star Trek as a television series, it does not
consider the various other instantiations of the story world in other texts,
such as comic books or feature films, as such consideration would be outside
of the scope of this investigation.
4
Since this article explores the Mirror Universe, it sets its central focus on
the first season of Discovery, as only there the Mirror Universe is presented
as a main setting for the entire season. In the second season, only one
character (Georgiou) links the story from the first season to the Mirror
Universe; apart from that, it does not play a central role. Thus, this article
will only link observations to the second season when appropriate.
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 107

when comparing the story world of the Mirror Universe, a fictional

universe that has haunted the Star Trek characters since Star Trek: The
Original Series (1966–1969). Traditionally, the Mirror Universe served as
an evil, dystopian counterpart to the Prime Star Trek universe: While
it was so named because most characters and places that existed in the
Prime Universe also existed in its counterpart, they often were their
antithesis, i.e., everything that was considered ‘good’ in the Prime
Universe was ‘evil’ in the Mirror Universe, and vice versa. In Discovery’s
post-network version of the Mirror Universe, however, this strict
dichotomy is blurred, arguably enabling a more apt questioning of the
right- and wrongness of moral and ethics, which notably is prototypical
for second wave post-network adaptations in general.5 To illustrate this
argument, this chapter will firstly introduce what is referred to as
the ‘pre-Discovery’ Mirror Universe, by focusing briefly on all episodes
that have featured it: The Original Series’ ‘Mirror, Mirror’ (2x04), five
episodes from Deep Space Nine (1993–1999; ‘Crossover,’ 2x23, ‘Through
the Looking Glass,’ 3x19, ‘Shattered Mirror,’ 4x20, ‘Resurrection,’ 6x08,
and ‘The Emperor’s New Cloak,’ 7x12), and Enterprise’s (2001–2005)
two-part episode ‘In a Mirror, Darkly’ (Enterprise, 4x18 and 4x19). I
then turn to the post-network instantiation of the Mirror Universe in
the first season of Discovery, explain its different function in the series,
and shed light on how the serial character of the show enabled the
Mirror Universe to be expanded and complicated.

The Pre-Discovery Universe

The Mirror Universe6 comprises a parallel universe in which the plots

of several Star Trek television episodes have taken place. When it was

5
The Mirror Universe and how the show uses it to represent and interrogate
(imperial) feminisms is also explored in Judith Rauscher’s essay ‘“Into A
Mirror Darkly”: Border Crossing and Imperial(ist) Feminism in Star Trek:
Discovery’ published in this volume.
6
As pointed out, Star Trek’s Mirror Universe is named after ‘Mirror, Mirror,’
a The Original Series episode in which it first appeared. It should be noted,
however, that the term ‘Mirror Universe’ has never been used on screen. On
screen, in the earlier series, ‘parallel universe’ and ‘the other universe’ have
been used (The Original Series: ‘Mirror, Mirror,’ Deep Space Nine: ‘Through the
Looking Glass’). Later, also terminology such as ‘alternate reality/universe,’
‘the other side,’ and ‘The Terran universe’ appeared (Enterprise: ‘In a Mirror,
Darkly,’ Deep Space Nine: ‘Crossover,’ ‘Shattered Mirror,’ ‘Resurrection,’ ‘The
Emperor’s New Cloak,’ Discovery: ‘The War Without, The War Within’).
108 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

first introduced in the The Original Series episode ‘Mirror, Mirror’

(2x04) in 1967, it marked a narrative milestone, as the episode
offered a ‘spectacular narrative that brought together not only different
textual-actual-world timelines but for the first time alternate-possible-
world timelines as well’ (Pearson and Davies, 2014, 145). In the episode,
a transporter malfunction sends Captain Kirk (William Shatner) and
three of his crew members into a parallel universe that exists almost
simultaneously with the Prime Universe, but on another dimensional
plane. Already at first glance, this parallel universe is strikingly different
from its Prime counterpart: Kirk is welcomed back by a Mirror First
Officer Spock (Leonard Nimoy) with a mustache and goatee, who is
in the midst of ordering his crew to attack a humanoid civilization for
their refusal to collaborate – and thus clearly does not act according
to the guiding principles of Starfleet. To prove this assumption, he
then punishes one of his own crew members for an error by putting
him in an agonizer booth – an instrument of torture that, since then,
has become one of the most significant characteristics of the Mirror
Universe.
While most characters, ships, and places that exist in The Original
Series’s Prime Universe hence also exist in its parallel counterpart, at
the same time, it is instantaneously obvious to both Captain Kirk and
the viewer that the parallel universe poses as an antonym to the Prime
Universe. Whereas the Prime Universe represents an utopian future in
which the United Federation of Planets values ‘toleration,’ ‘peace,’ and
‘social progress,’ (cf. The Charter of the United Federation of Planets),
‘Mirror, Mirror’ introduces its authoritarian counterpart, the Terran
Empire, which values conquest, war, and despotism instead. In line
with this, mirror characters showcase characteristics that reverse those
of their Prime Universe equals, as they are mistrustful, aggressive, and
opportunistic in personality. Officers, for example, can achieve promotion
only when assassinating their superiors. Finally, the oppositeness is also
marked visually: the mirror crew presents different crew uniforms and
looks, which arguably underline their evil behavior, and the Terran
Empire identifies itself by a logo that features an aggressive sword instead
of the laurel of peace of the United Federation of Planets’ logo.
All in all, the episode thus not only familiarizes Star Trek viewers
with the concept of a parallel universe in general, but already

Although the term itself is also not used throughout Discovery, the crew at
least refer to their vessel’s counterpart as the ‘mirror Discovery’ (‘Despite
Yourself’). Editors’ note: DSC became the first show to use the term on
screen in 2x13.
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 109

establishes the Mirror Universe as an ‘evil twin’7 to the Prime Universe,

and as such as a particular story world with rules other than those
valid in the Prime Universe. 8 At the same time, Kirk’s encounter with
the Mirror Universe has no impact on other The Original Series episodes
or storylines. At the end of the episode, Kirk and his crew manage to
beam themselves back to the Federation universe, where he learns that
aboard the Prime Universe’s U.S.S. Enterprise, Spock had placed their
Mirror Universe counterparts in confinement. When asked by Kirk
how he was able to identify the intruders from the Mirror Universe, he
explains they were easy to expose because of their distinct alterity: ‘It
was far easier for you as civilized men to behave like barbarians, than
it was for them as barbarians to behave like civilized men. … They
were brutal, savage, unprincipled, uncivilized, treacherous…’ (‘Mirror,
Mirror’). This marked difference between Mirror and Prime characters,
that is emphasized here by the characters themselves, is upheld in
the five Deep Space Nine episodes that feature the Mirror Universe in
its twenty-fourth century version: ‘Crossover’ (2x23), ‘Through the
Looking Glass’ (3x19), ‘Shattered Mirror’ (4x20), ‘Resurrection’ (6x08),
and ‘The Emperor’s New Cloak’ (7x12). While it is beyond the scope
of this chapter to summarize all five Mirror Universe episodes of Deep
Space Nine, it should suffice for the following argument to state that
their instantiations of the Mirror Universe resembled that shown in
The Original Series (1966–1969). Most importantly, the viewer always
follows a Prime character into the Mirror Universe, or vice versa
(‘Resurrection’), but there is never an interaction between the two
universes, except on the level of single character contact. What is new
is the fact that in contrast to Kirk’s visit in The Original Series, visiting

7
Traditionally, in literary studies, the ‘evil twin’ concept refers to an
antagonist that is a physical copy of a protagonist, but with fundamentally
inverted ethics and moralities. By using it here to refer to the Mirror
Universe as a whole, the concept is borrowed but applied to a whole story
world that is antagonistic to its prime counterpart.
8
This makes sense, as from its very beginning, the Mirror Universe
was read as a possibility to deviate from Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek
rulebook (1987). Gene Coon, a co-producer and writer of The Original
Series, summarized Roddenberry’s worldbuilding in the following words:
‘He created an entire galaxy and an entire rule book for operating within
that galaxy, with very specific laws governing behaviors, manners, customs,
as well as science and technology.’ Rules, collected in what Roddenberry
himself titled the Star Trek ‘bible,’ included that writers must ‘stay true to
the prime directive,’ and that characters must be ‘very committed to their
ship, their crewmates, and their mission’ (Roddenberry, 1987, 11) – all
aspects that are mistreated in the Mirror Universe.
110 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

the Mirror Universe in Deep Space Nine is, except for the first visit, no
longer accidental, but intentional. Moreover, Deep Space Nine’s visits to
the Mirror Universe introduced the idea that people who died in the
Prime Universe might be alive and well in the Mirror Universe (cf.
‘Through the Looking Glass’ and ‘Shattered Mirror’). Despite these
two narrative novelties, however, the thematic foundation of all Deep
Space Nine’s Mirror Universe episodes rests on the idea that, by going
to the respective Mirror Universe, one can achieve positive effects for
the other universe. Examples include when Prime Sisko is decoyed
into the Mirror Universe to help build the U.S.S. Defiant (‘Shattered
Mirror’), or when a thief is sent to the Prime Universe to steal a
Bajoran orb, believing it would permit Mirror Intendant Kira (Nana
Visitor) to unite Bajor under her rule (‘Resurrection’). Such effects,
if they are achieved at all, are, however, always short-term, and, as
in ‘Mirror, Mirror,’ do not influence grander strands of narrative
continuity in the Prime Universe. This also explains why the Mirror
Universe episodes are spread over several seasons of Deep Space Nine;
each episode repeats the same Mirror Universe, sometimes even with
the same Mirror Universe characters, but remains self-contained: ‘No
serial effect is produced because no [Mirror Universe] episode story
branches beyond or reveals an awareness of events occurring in prior
episodes’ (Ndalianis, 2005, 88).9
This changes slightly in the two-part Mirror Universe episode
of Star Trek: Enterprise, entitled ‘In a Mirror, Darkly’ (Part 1: 4x18
and Part 2: 4x19), which introduces the early developments of the
Mirror Universe (twenty-second century). In a notable difference to
its first occurrences, this time viewers do not follow a Prime Universe
character into the Mirror Universe, but are exposed to it right from the
beginning of the episode, as a prologue revisits Star Trek: First Contact:
by reusing the very same footage from the 1996 feature film, we see
the Vulcan ship landing on Earth in 2063. Instead of returning the
peaceful greeting of the Vulcans, however, one and a half minutes into
the episode the original footage is abandoned, and we instead watch
Zefram Cochrane (James Cromwell) shoot the leader of the Vulcans.
This scene thus opposes everything a viewer knows about the first
contact as it had happened in the Prime Universe, and by doing so
triggers the conclusion that the scene must have happened in the Mirror

9
Note that, nevertheless, some degree of seriality is implied through ‘the
repetition of characters and narrative patterns beyond single episodes’
(Ndalianis, 2005, 88, also cf. Pearson and Davies’ ‘extended seriality’
[2014]).
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 111

Universe. This is confirmed by the fact that the prologue is followed

by a special mirror opening credits sequence, which chronicles the
history of warfare and interstellar domination of the Terran Empire,
the repressive interstellar government dominating the Mirror Universe
in the twenty-second century.
In fact, both ‘In a Mirror, Darkly’ episodes feature these special
opening credits and accordingly are set solely in the Mirror Universe. In
the first part of ‘In a Mirror, Darkly,’ the I.S.S. Enterprise10 crew learns
that a Starfleet ship from the future of the Prime Universe has arrived
in the Mirror Universe – the U.S.S. Defiant, which had disappeared
from the Prime Universe in 2268 (cf. ‘The Tholian Web,’ The Original
Series, 3x09) – and seeks to obtain the ship from Tholian space. While
part of the crew beam onto the U.S.S. Defiant, at the conclusion of the
first episode, the Tholians fight back by creating an energy web and
eventually manage to destroy the I.S.S. Enterprise. The second part then
sees the surviving crew on board of the U.S.S. Defiant, seeking to get the
advanced weaponry of the ship to work to eventually fight back against
the Terran Empire. Thematically, the two episodes thus seem to serve
a clear purpose. As the fourth season of Enterprise is ‘engaged with the
idea that the utopian ideals of the Federation are no longer a “given” in
the way that they had been during the broadcast of Star Trek or The Next
Generation’ (Darren, 2016), ‘In a Mirror, Darkly’ confronts the viewer
with a universe in which those ideals have never taken hold. In that
sense, this two-part Mirror Universe episode is markedly similar to its
predecessors, as it approaches the Mirror Universe not primarily in terms
of continuity, but in terms of philosophy and outlook, intervening into
the respective series at a point where Starfleet ideals are questioned
by presenting the opposing alternative. While the two episodes do
establish an unprecedented continuity for the Mirror Universe as they
tie together two episodes from the original series (‘Mirror, Mirror’ and
‘The Tholian Web’), and even a key scene from Star Trek: First Contact,
there is still no crucial interaction between Prime and Mirror Universe,
as the two episodes do not even see Enterprise Prime Universe characters
moving between the two parallel universes this time. The only Prime
Universe object that crosses into the Mirror Universe, the U.S.S. Defiant,
has no relevance for the Enterprise timeline whatsoever, and the Prime
characters of Enterprise do not even learn about the instance narrated
in ‘In a Mirror, Darkly.’

10
Instead of U.S.S., the Mirror spaceships are marked by the abbreviation
I.S.S., which stands for ‘Imperial Star Ship.’
112 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

All in all, with the exception of The Next Generation (1987–1994)11 and
Voyager (1995–2001), all Star Trek television series have visited the Mirror
Universe and, by doing so, have created a coherent parallel world with
its own history and rules. While arguably ‘this is worldbuilding of such
a scale that no other television series could hope to equal it’ (Pearson
and Davies, 2014, 145), at least not while maintaining the format of
self-contained episodes, at the same time, all those pre-network Mirror
Universe episodes were largely irrelevant for continuity development or
character building, as its storylines and characters never overlapped with
the Prime Universe. Quite to the contrary, the writers of The Original
Series, Deep Space Nine, and Enterprise were careful to clearly mark the
strict differentiation between the Prime and the Mirror Universe, be it
through differing dress codes, hair styles, logos, and opening credits, or
by carefully pointing out to the viewer who belongs to which universe.
Only by keeping up this strict demarcation the series arguably was able
to reach the antithesis effect it was trying to create with the Mirror
Universe: If one understands the ‘outcome goal of the show to arrive
at the utopian principles that … are endemic to “Star Trek”’ (Goldsman
quoted in Velocci, 2017), the Mirror Universe’s prime purpose in
pre-network times was to pose as a dystopian counterpart to the Prime
Universe, thereby emphasizing Star Trek’s utopian features even more
clearly.

The Post-Network Mirror Universe

Traditionally, the Mirror Universe thus has been clearly demarcated from
the Prime Universe, visually, narratively, and sometimes even cinemat-
ographically. The pre-network Mirror Universe episodes comprised
separate stories, that were concluded at the end of each episode – as
is typical for traditional television series’ episodes in general. When
moving to the Mirror Universe in Discovery’s first season, it is therefore
at first glance most striking that here the Mirror Universe does not span
just a single episode, but that instead the whole series is influenced by
it and almost all episodes are either set in the Mirror Universe or at

11
Indeed, it seems that the writing staff of Next Generation deliberately did not
explore the option of a Mirror Universe episode: ‘We were a little frightened
at doing it, and doing it badly, and maybe never really figured out what
the Next Generation take would have been on it,’ writer/producer Brannon
Braga explained in a 2017 interview (in Wright, 2017). Only novelizations
and comics have so far dealt with a Mirror version of The Next Generation
characters.
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 113

least feature characters from it. At the same time, it should be noted
that even an experienced viewer is unaware of this until episode 12.
Only the first two episodes, which are set roughly six months before
the rest of the serial and provide a kind of back-story to Michael
Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green), the mutineer, do not feature any
Mirror Universe aspects.12 In the third episode, set about a decade
before the events of The Original Series, viewers meet U.S.S. Discovery
Captain Gabriel Lorca (Jason Isaacs) for the first time, who rescues
Michael Burnham from her prison transfer and takes her on aboard his
ship. It is nine minutes into this episode that a first hint at the Mirror
Universe is dropped, which, however, is undetectable even for the most
erudite Star Trek fan: Lorca mentions his photosensitivity, which is later
explained to be the ‘singular biological difference’ (‘Vaulting Ambition,’
1x12) between humans from the Prime Universe and humans from the
Mirror Universe. Since this feature has never before been part of the
other Mirror Universe mythology, however, and is not explained until
the 12th episode of the first season of Discovery, at this point, it might
at most make a viewer suspicious.
The viewer gets another instance of this kind of suspicion when at
the end of the episode Lorca states that ‘[u]niversal law is for lackeys,
context is for kings,’ a dictum that also gave the episode its title (‘Context
is for Kings,’ 1x03). Being so contradictory to Starfleet values, this indeed
led to first speculations in Star Trek forums about whether Lorca could
be from the Mirror Universe.13 These speculations aside, throughout
the following six episodes, and thus until the mid-season break,14 the

12
In the first two episodes, which can be considered as a set-up for the rest
of the series, we get to know protagonist Michael Burnham, at the time
first officer of the U.S.S. Shenzhou, and how she investigates an ancient
vessel drifting in space, which reveals itself to be a Klingon artefact. This
eventually leads to Burnham attempting to fire on an approaching Klingon
vessel, against the wishes of her captain, Philippa Georgiou – she is arrested
for mutiny, the U.S.S. Shenzhou is destroyed.
13
First reactions and theories were that the whole episode was set in the
Mirror Universe (cf., e.g., the discussion ‘What are the odds that Discovery
is actually set in the Mirror Universe?’ on Reddit that was started just
hours after ‘Context is for Kings’ was made available on CBS All Access.
Not much later, first speculations occurred that named Lorca as a Mirror
Universe character. One user, for example, posted the following theory: ‘I
think that Lorca … is originally from the Mirror Universe and something
happened where he got sent to the main universe when his last ship blew
up. It also explains why he took an interest in the main universes Michael’
(r/startrek, 2018).
14
CBS All Access promoted the first nine episodes as chapter one, and the six
114 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

viewer is confronted with a variety of controversial actions by Lorca that

both confirm and deny that he might indeed have something to hide.
On the one hand, Lorca, for example, convinces as a Star Trek captain
by being able to cite Starfleet regulations by heart (‘Choose your Pain,’
1x05), and by supposedly showing compassion for an endangered species
when he tries to find a solution to help the Pahvans (‘Into the Forest
I Go,’ 1x09).15 On the other hand, he is constantly disobeying Starfleet
superiors, which makes especially old acquaintance Admiral Katrina
Cornwell (Jayne Brook) suspicious of him. She even questions him in
his private quarters about his behavior (‘I don’t think you’ve been the
same’; ‘Lethe,’ 1x06), but he manages to respond somewhat convincingly
that he has passed his psychological appraisal. He eventually manages to
seduce her, thus arguably patching up their relationship, but the mood
changes once again when Lorca threatens Cornwell with his phaser
after waking up: ‘Cornwall [screaming]: “You sleep with a phaser in
your bed, and say nothing’s wrong? … I have ignored the signs, but I
cannot any more. The truth is, you are not the man I used to know”’
(1x06). While the scene thus ends with a Cornwell who is once again
convinced that something about Lorca is not right, it surely does not
help that for all these contradictions in his character, skeptics are offered
a somewhat reasonable explanation from episode 1x06 onwards, when
it is suggested that Lorca suffers from PTSD16 as a result of his loss of
the U.S.S. Buran under his command.
Up until episode 9 and thus the midseason finale of season one,
the divided opinions about Lorca by different Discovery crew members
hence mirror the mixed feelings viewers might have about Lorca

episodes following the midseason break as chapter two. While all previous
network Star Trek seasons also featured similar breaks over the holidays,
Discovery’s first season broadcast break is the first that serves as a cliffhanger
in a Star Trek series.
15
Two other essays in this collection that deal with the figure of the captain
in the Star Trek universe and Lorca specifically are ‘“We Choose Our
Own Pain. Mine Helps Me Remember”: Gabriel Lorca, Ash Tyler, and the
Question of Masculinity’ by Sabrina Mittermeier and Jenny Volkmer and
‘Looking in the Mirror: The Negotiation of Franchise Identity in Star Trek:
Discovery’ by Andrea Whitacre.
16
I want to note here that this representation of PTSD as being synonymous
with malignance and perfidy is certainly problematic, as is the fact that
symptoms of PTSD and other mental health issues are portrayed in Discovery
as not being distinctive from villainy. This is not necessarily surprising,
as contemporary American science fiction, but also other media, has
commonly misrepresented morally ambiguous actions or violence by persons
suffering from PTSD as common place.
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 115

when watching: while Cornwell, Dr. Hugh Culber (Wilson Cruz),

and Lieutenant Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) clash with Lorca in
several scenes, Burnham seems to be supportive of him,17 and Stamets
eventually also falls back in line and supports his plan to jump. At the
same time, Starfleet clearly has been destabilized, and it is hard for
viewers to gauge what is happening based on prior knowledge of Star
Trek. This becomes especially obvious in different readings of a key scene
of ‘Into the Forest I Go,’ namely when Starfleet presumably validates
Lorca’s actions:

Admiral Terral: ‘The war is not won yet, but you have increased
the likelihood of a victory for Starfleet, despite your unorthodox
methods.’ Lorca: ‘I’m gonna take that as a compliment.’ Admiral
Terral: ‘You will find that your accomplishments have not gone
unnoticed. Starfleet Command would like to award you with the
Legion of Honor.’

On the one hand, the award of the medal can be read as Lorca’s absolute
approval by a Starfleet official. On the other, it can be read as a ploy.
As some argued after the episode was screened, Admiral Terral (Conrad
Coates) arguably only promised Lorca the medal to lure him back to the
Starbase to take his command away. As one viewer put it: ‘when Terral
spoke the words “Legion of Honor,” it felt like there was no sincerity
in it’ (OhMally, 2018). The scene also ends with a stretching close-up
of Lorca, whose facial expression is anything but a jubilant one, despite
just having been awarded one of the highest honors in Starfleet.18 Then
again, others have argued against such an interpretation as it would, for
example, defy the traditional Star Trek maxim that ‘Vulcans cannot lie.’
Whatever side of this interpretation one feels more comfortable with,
in all, the first nine episodes left many Star Trek viewers with a lack
of explanation for the discrepancies in the world of Discovery from the
world of previous Star Trek series, materialized first and foremost in the
character of Lorca and his corresponding actions, which are anything
but adhering to the Star Trek rulebook (cf. Roddenberry’s ‘bible,’ 1987).

17
After all, Lorca appeals to the mutineer Burnham’s strongest desires,
redemption, or at least a chance to right wrongs, when he enlists her.
18
This rather subjective reading can also be supported by the fact that Terral
concurrently informs Lorca that Cornwell, who has been most skeptical of
Lorca, has arrived at the Starbase and will make a full recovery. That piece
of information in turn makes Lorca – and Discovery viewers – wonder if
Cornwell already told Terral about Lorca, thus spurring on the speculation
about a ploy.
116 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

As one review put it: ‘This doesn’t feel like the Federation or Starfleet
we know and love because it isn’t’ (Burt, 2017).
These speculations are not resolved until the very last scene of episode
9, which climaxes in one final spore drive jump to get the crew back to
safety and a shot that clearly shows Lorca overriding the co-ordinates.19
After all, it can hardly be a coincidence that Lorca’s ‘Let’s go home’ are
the last words spoken before the jump is ordered. And indeed, when after
the jump violent Vulcans attack the U.S.S. Discovery without warning,
it becomes clear that Lorca’s previously mentioned ‘home’ is ‘not our
universe’ (‘Despite Yourself,’ 1x10). Moreover, visual hints finally also
confirm this observation to viewers: We encounter the usual logo of the
Terran empire, and see Tilly (Mary Wiseman) switching into a Terran
uniform in order to pose as her Mirror counterpart. As in all other
Star Trek series, viewers are thus now confronted with a clearly marked
oppressive, racist, and xenophobic Mirror Universe, that makes use of the
world-building strategies viewers know from the previous series, such as
the agonizer booths and the killing of officers as the only way of career
advancement. To confirm this traditional function of the Mirror Universe
as an evil counterpart of the Prime one, in the following episodes, we
follow Burnham overseeing the deaths of prisoners and must realize that
Kelpiens are slaves in the Mirror Universe. Even though episode 11, ‘The
Wolf Inside,’ also focusses heavily on the subplot of Tyler (Shazad Latif)
actually being the Klingon Voq, episode 1x10, 1x11, and 1x12’s main
aim is to once again portray the Mirror Universe as an evil counterpart
to the Prime Universe. This background arguably makes the revelation
about Lorca’s true identity, which comprises the climax of episode 1x12,
even more appalling: Once again situated as the climax of the episode,
it is Emperor Georgiou’s (Michelle Yeoh) reaction to light that makes
Lorca’s betrayal become clear to Burnham by pointing out that extreme
sensitivity to light is one way to tell Mirror Universe characters apart
from Prime Universe ones:

[cross-cut to flashback scene where Saru and Lorca discuss the

‘fortunate coincidence’ that the spore drive jumps identified the
coordinates for the Mirror Universe, then cross-cut back to Emperor
Georgiou, who is blinded by light]. Burnham: ‘You’re sensitive to
light.’ Georgiou: ‘Only compared to a human from your universe.
It’s the singular biological difference between our two races.’
[cross-cut to another flashback: Lorca blinking, injecting himself

19
The shot shows the control panel, where the line before jump 133, the final
jump, reads ‘override – lorca , g .’
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 117

with a serum that helps fight his photosensitivity]. (‘Vaulting

Ambition’)

This key scene thus simultaneously reveals Lorca to be from the Mirror
Universe, explains his erratic nature and actions over the first part of the
series, and repeats the hints that were spread about his mirror identity
throughout the first nine episodes using flashbacks. This moment of
anagnorisis hence enables both Burnham but also the viewer to read
scenes from the first half of the series differently, and manages to
release the potential tension that viewers felt about ‘the discrepancies
in the world of Discovery’ (see above). In the end, Lorca and his actions
felt different because he was different, having only posed as his mirror
counterpart from the Prime Universe.
This is a narrative novelty that deserves further attention. In contrast
to sudden plot twists, which are common to Star Trek series, Discovery’s
writers here instead have focused on a slow burn.20 The revelation of
Lorca being from the Mirror Universe, though, which was hinted at for
more than half of the series, but only revealed in the last third, has
lasting impact and moreover changes what viewers thought about the
first half. The Macbeth-inspired title of the revelation episode, ‘Vaulting
Ambition,’ therefore is appropriate on at least two levels: it applies to
Lorca’s actions, which now all can be read in a different light (to ‘save’
the Pahvans, to make the ‘final’ jump, to ‘help’ Burnham), but it also
describes what can be considered the riskiest plot twist a Star Trek
series has ever delivered: Instead of presenting a concluded storyline for
each episode, with this Mirror Universe storyline, Discovery connects,
extends, and changes the story world continuously over the entire serial.
Structurally, the first season of Discovery thus is not leaning on the old
conventions of the franchise, is not a reiteration of previous series of
Star Trek with the self-contained episode format, but presents a series
that has adapted to twenty-first century post-network rules with a focus
on seriality and gradual plot progression.
This, in turn, has important consequences for the story world itself:
the Mirror Universe can no longer just be read as the evil twin of the

20
While sudden plot twists, such as the deaths of Captain Georgiou and
Culber, certainly exist as well, even those have significant impact on the
following storyline. Captain Georgiou’s death, for example, might be read
as a motivation for bringing Mirror Georgiou into the Prime Universe, and
Culber’s death even has repercussions throughout both seasons of Discovery:
towards the end of season one, his ‘ghost’ helps Stamets navigate within
the mycelial network, and in season two he reappears when Tilly is dragged
into the network as well and the crew manages to resurrect him.
118 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Prime Universe that fulfills its aim when confirming the progress and
utopian qualities of the latter by presenting its contrary alternative.
Rather, a clear-cut dichotomy between ‘good’ and ‘evil,’ between Mirror
Universe and Prime Universe, must be rejected for the first season of
Discovery. As explored above, for the first eight episodes, this is done
through deceiving the Prime characters – and the viewers – by adding
Mirror Lorca into the Prime Universe. Since clear visual or narrative
clarifications are lacking, and arguably plausible explanations are given
for Lorca’s sometimes unusual behavior, a viewer can identify with
Lorca and can see him as part of the Prime Universe. While he might
not be seen as an entirely ‘good’ character, he also certainly cannot be
categorized as clear-cut ‘evil,’ as the contradictory examples I provided
above have outlined. Of course, the context of the Federation–Klingon
War is important here, as it sets the background against which Lorca
can justify his actions in the first place (cf. his ‘context is for kings’
dictum), which certainly do not meet Starfleet’s traditional principles.
But that is exactly what the first season of Discovery is arguably about.
It asks whether it is always possible to draw a strict division between
‘good’ or ‘bad,’ between ‘utopian’ and ‘dystopian,’ or whether, sometimes,
context might decide and might blur these clear divisions.
While it is Mirror Lorca in the first half of season one that enables this
blurring of dichotomies, after the Mirror Universe is revealed, another
Mirror character replaces his function: it is the reentry of Philippa
Georgiou, now as Emperor in the Mirror Universe, that substitutes
Lorca’s role in the second half of the series. Notably, the viewer’s – and
the protagonists’ – relation to Mirror Georgiou is different than that to
Lorca, as firstly, we know her true (mirror) identity at once and, secondly,
we have gotten to know her Prime Universe counterpart during the first
two episodes of season one. As captain of the U.S.S. Shenzhou, Prime
Georgiou was introduced as a compassionate but forceful woman, who
was Burnham’s guide and role model.21 It is with this prior knowledge
that the viewer, together with Burnham, meets Georgiou’s mirror
counterpart in ‘The Wolf Inside.’ After Burnham tried to save the lives
of a group of rebels whom she was ordered to destroy by the Terran
Empire while maintaining her cover as her mirror counterpart, the
I.S.S. Shenzhou (which Burnham is commanding while serving as her
Mirror self) crew receives a transmission from the emperor, who until

21
Notably, Discovery opens the first episode with Georgiou and Burnham on
an expedition, which has no other narrative relevance than to establish
the closeness between Burnham and Georgiou, and moreover Georgiou’s
role as a role model for Burnham.
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 119

then was described as faceless. The episode concludes when a visibly

upset and shocked Burnham is confronted by a holographic Georgiou
about her cowardness, anticipating the emotional tension that will
develop between Prime Burnham and the mirror counterpart of her
former captain in the following episodes.
In the subsequent episode, ‘Vaulting Ambition,’ the viewer is
informed that Burnham afterwards was summoned to the I.S.S. Charon
to explain her cowardly behavior, with Lorca, who had staged a coup
in the Mirror Universe before being transported to the Prime Universe,
as her bounty.22 In the beginning of the episode, Georgiou is clearly
presented as the cruel, evil emperor she was said to be, as she hits Lorca
and punishes him with the agonizer booth, and thus meets expectations
of a Mirror Universe character. Only seconds later, however, the mood
in the scene changes significantly, as Georgiou approaches Burnham:
‘You could have died hunting that traitor across the universe. I am so
happy you didn’t. … Everything will be the way it was, dear daughter’
(‘Vaulting Ambition’).
Both Georgiou’s emotional speech, and her physical contact to
Burnham when she caresses her cheek, confirm that this is not the
evil, faceless Emperor Georgiou, but that she is impersonating a caring
mother, an emotional protector of Burnham – and she is doing so quite
deliberately since she later attempts to sentence Burnham to death when
Burnham fails to call her ‘mother’ before she can prove that she is from
the Prime Universe. In this earlier scene, however, Georgiou reminds
both Burnham and the viewer of her Prime Universe counterpart.
Especially for Burnham, this representation is highly ambiguous, as she
is clearly struggling with the contrast between the Georgiou she knows
and Mirror Georgiou, and with Mirror Georgiou being so personal and
referring to her as her ‘daughter.’ Once again, one is thus confronted
with ambiguous feelings for a Mirror Universe character, as the viewer
is not only exposed to clear cruelty, but humanity, compassion, and a
wounded pride. When the viewer looks at Georgiou in this scene, it is
through Burnham’ eyes, who sees both a trusted mentor and friend –
and the leader of the xenophobic Terran empire.
This emotional connection is enhanced throughout the following
episode, when Burnham manages to destroy the I.S.S. Charon’s power
core in order to use its energy to get back to the Prime Universe. She
ultimately refuses to let Mirror Georgiou die, but instead takes her with

22
Burnham impersonating her Mirror counterpart (who is presumed dead)
is reminiscent of Benjamin Sisko impersonating his presumed dead
counterpart in Deep Space Nine’s mirror episode ‘Through the Looking Glass.’
120 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

her aboard U.S.S. Discovery. Once again, a Mirror character has thus
traversed into the Prime Universe, even though this time unwillingly
but owing to Burnham’s emotional attachment: ‘The truth is, I couldn’t
watch her die again, Saru [Doug Jones]. I wanted to offer her more’
(‘The War Without, The War Within,’ 1x14). As we follow the story to
its finale, however, we understand that Mirror Georgiou’s transfer to the
Prime Universe also serves another purpose. When the U.S.S. Discovery
finally manages to return to the Prime Universe at the conclusion of
the episode, the crew immediately realizes that they overshot by nine
months and that, in the meantime, the Klingons have all but won the
war against the Federation. Starfleet is withdrawing and is advising the
U.S.S. Discovery crew to do the same, but when they arrive at Starbase
One, they find it has been destroyed by Klingons from House D’Ghor.23
This leads Burnham to her realization that ‘the time for peace has
passed,’ and she asks Georgiou to tell her how she defeated the Klingon
Empire in her universe.
Once again, we have thus reached a point in the first season of
Discovery where the unconditional conformity to Starfleet directives is
rendered futile under current conditions, and in order to bypass them,
it can arguably only be a character from the Mirror Universe that
can offer a viable solution. Indeed, the following finale sees Starfleet
agreeing to Georgiou’s proposition to strike against Qo’noS to end the
war. The official plan is to release a drone on Qo’noS to map the planet
for military targets that then can be attacked by Starfleet. To do so, the
Federation Council even allows Georgiou to assume the identity of her
Prime counterpart to lead the attack, and she is reinstated as captain
of the U.S.S. Discovery by Admiral Cornwell. Notably, in quite striking
contrast to Lorca, Georgiou never tries to fit into the Prime Universe:
she keeps up her antagonistic behavior when she, for example, enters the
bridge of the U.S.S. Discovery for the first time at the beginning of ‘Will
You Take My Hand’ (1x15). Within seconds of her taking command,
she repels Saru and the rest of the crew by calling out the helm, who
previously served under Prime Georgiou on the U.S.S. Shenzhou, for
calling Qo’noS the Klingon ‘home world.’ She emphasizes in her harsh
emperor voice that in her view, ‘Klingons are animals, and they don’t

23
By the time the U.S.S. Discovery returns from the Mirror Universe, the
Klingons do no longer fight as an alliance, but their houses are divided once
again. As Sarek (James Frain) explains: ‘They quarrel among themselves,
hence the indiscriminate nature of their aggression. But their collective aim
seems clear. To compete for dominance by seeing which house can destroy
the most Federation assets’ (‘The War Without, The War Within’).
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 121

have homes,’ and that, under her rule, Qo’noS is to be called the ‘enemy
planet.’ Mirror Georgiou thus is clearly not embodying or adjusting to
Federation ideals, as Saru poignantly points out only seconds later, after
he is also verbally attacked by Georgiou. When later she continues to
act against Starfleet principles when she restrains and tortures L’Rell
(Mary Chieffo) in the presence of Burnham, the latter also begins to
question Georgiou’s motives and her decision to bring Georgiou to the
Prime Universe. And indeed, soon after Burnham, Georgiou, Tilly and
Tyler have arrived on Qo’noS to release the drone, they discover that
Georgiou’s true objective is it to detonate a hydro bomb instead of a
drone to destroy the Klingon home planet once and for all. Burnham
immediately contacts Admiral Cornwell and argues that genocide is
not the Starfleet way, even when trying to end the war. Cornwell and,
through her, Starfleet, responds by saying that the Federation is close
to defeat and that they, under these circumstances, do not have the
‘luxury of principles’ (‘Will You Take My Hand’). Burnham refutes by
arguing that principles are all that they have, and that Cornwell sent
Mirror Georgiou on the mission because she knew that only a Terran
from the Mirror Universe could execute what Starfleet officers could not:

Cornwell: ‘Terms of atrocity are convenient after the fact. The

Klingons are on the verge of wiping out the Federation.’ Burnham:
‘Yes, but ask yourself: Why did you put this mission in the hands
of a Terran…? It’s because you know it is not who we are.’

This scene shows remarkable parallels to Lorca’s controversial place in

the first half of Discovery. Even though he clearly disregarded Starfleet
principles and mentioned similar questionable motifs for his behavior,
nevertheless, he also had the partial support of his crew and (arguably)
Starfleet. At the time, however, Starfleet and the Discovery crew believed
Lorca to be from the Prime Universe. With Georgiou now, the situation
differs slightly, but significantly: Burnham knows (and most of the crew
probably suspects) that she is from the Mirror Universe, while Starfleet
still tries to pass her off as her Prime counterpart. Burnham’s experience
with Mirror Lorca hence enables her to see through Georgiou’s and
Starfleet’s wrong morals. As a consequence, she threatens a mutiny to
prove what Starfleet stands for, and, in strong contrast to what happened
in the first half of the series, the crew of the Discovery stands to support
her, instead of their interim captain Georgiou. It is in the conclusion of
the last episode in Burnham’s speech in front of the Starfleet council
that she sums up her lessons learnt from the exposure to the Mirror
Universe:
122 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

We are no longer on the eve of battle. Even so, I come to ask myself
the same question that a young soldier asked the general all those
years ago: ‘How do I defeat fear?’ The general’s answer: the only
way to defeat fear is to tell it ‘no.’ No. We will not take shortcuts
on the path to righteousness. … No. We will not allow desperation
to destroy moral authority. … We have to be torchbearers, casting
the light so we may see our path to lasting peace. (‘Will You Take
My Hand?’)

We can thus understand the function of the Mirror Universe in the first
season of Discovery as going far beyond simply presenting an antagonistic
twin to the Prime Universe that was key to previous instantiations of
the Mirror Universe in The Original Series, Enterprise, and Deep Space Nine.
Instead, particularly the first season of Discovery uses two instantiations of
a mirror character operating in the Prime Universe – and the Discovery’s
journey into the Mirror Universe itself – to probe the assumption that
it is possible to easily delineate the Prime Universe as ‘good’ and the
Mirror Universe as ‘evil,’ especially under special circumstances such
as ‘the eve of battle,’ i.e., war. Both Mirror Lorca and Mirror Georgiou
function to not unquestioningly reinforce the validity of Prime values
and morals by presenting their ‘evil’ opposite, as characters from the
pre-network Mirror Universe would have done. Instead, they offer foils
on which to question them – and also, on a broader level, to question
previous rather clear-cut instantiations of the Mirror Universe as the
evil twin of the indisputably ‘good’ Prime Universe.

Conclusion

The Mirror Universe and its mirror characters in season one of Discovery
are hence a prime example of how an already established world in
Star Trek can be recycled and adapted to blur boundaries and challenge
clear-cut Manichean binaries in the post-network era. Going beyond the
Mirror Universe, one could ask whether the combination of the Klingon
Voq and Ash Tyler, as hosting both ‘good’ and ‘evil’ characteristics in
one body, could be read as another of such instantiations. Expanding
the argument to season two, one could also investigate the prolonged
role that Mirror Georgiou plays in the story, especially in relation to
Starfleet’s Section 31, a black ops organization that first appeared in
Deep Space Nine and that is also known for being a counterweight to the
utopian ideals of the federation. Notably, both Tyler and Mirror Georgiou
are reintroduced to the viewer in season two as part of Section 31, and
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 123

they continue to act as controversial, non-Manichean characters that

push the boundaries of what is accepted within Starfleet’s directives.
While both investigations unfortunately lie beyond the scope of this
chapter, it shall suffice to conclude that such complicated story worlds
and character constellations enable Discovery in both season one and
two to impeach the simple, affective dichotomies that have provided the
discursive basis for earlier Star Trek television series, and instead offer
complicated interrogations into the right and wrongness of ethics and
morals – or, to be more specific, the otherwise unquestioned validity
of Starfleet principles – that seem more appropriate in an post-9/11 era
(Espinoza Garrido, 2018).
I would like to close by exploring the overarching question of how
it was particularly a post-network series that was able to present such
a changed function of the Mirror Universe for Star Trek. When we
go back to comparing the pre- and post-network instantiations of the
Mirror Universe, we firstly must realize that the long-term orientation of
post-network serials have of course enabled such slow-burn experiments
that we encountered especially with the trickster figure of Lorca during
the first half of Discovery. In the traditional format, the Mirror Universe
always had to be strictly demarcated from the Prime Universe, using
various cinematographic and narrative devices such as dress code,
behavior, objects, logos, or even different opening sequences; otherwise,
single episodes could not have captured the concept. Only because this
logic of self-sustained episodes was abandoned for the first time in
Discovery, a world-building approach towards the Mirror Universe could
be developed that went beyond simply presenting an antagonistic twin to
the Prime Universe. Instead, both the protagonists of the Prime Universe
and the viewers should not know that an important character is actually
from the Mirror Universe. The first season of Discovery thus was able
to trick us into identifying with a character from the Mirror Universe,
and in turn, managed to question our previous assumptions about the
Mirror Universe as an all-bad twin to the Prime Universe. Similarly, with
Georgiou, the series was able to frame us by firstly introducing Prime
Georgiou in the first two episodes, and then attaching our sympathies
for her to her Mirror counterpart in the second half of the series. Both
strategies include world and character building of such a scale that it
can only be accomplished over multiple, successive episodes and, as such,
would have been impossible in Star Trek’s traditional television format.
124 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Works Cited

Katyl Burt, ‘Star Trek: Discovery Episode 9 Review: Into the Forest I
Go’, Den of Geek, 14 November (2017), https://www.Denofgeek.com/us/
t v/s t a r- t r e k- d i s c o v e r y/ 2 6 8 9 3 4 /s t a r- t r e k- d i s c o v e r y - e p i s o d e -
9-review-into-the-forest-i-go.
Darren. ‘Star Trek: Enterprise – In a Mirror, Darkly, Part II
(Review)’, The Movie Blog, 30 May (2016), https://them0vieblog.com/
2016/05/30/star-trek-enterprise-in-a-mirror-darkly-part-ii-review.
Lea Espinoza Garrido, ‘Luke Cage as Postpost-9/11 TV: Spatial Negotiations
of Race in Contemporary U.S. Television’, Current Objectives in American
Studies 19.1 (2018), https://copas.uni-regensburg.de/article/view/292.
Dave Itzkoff, ‘On “Star Trek: Discovery,” a Franchise Boldly Goes into
the Serial TV Era’, New York Times, 21 September (2017), https://www.
Nytimes.com/2017/09/21/arts/television/star-trek-discovery.html.
Jason Mittell, ‘Narrative Complexity in Contemporary American Television’,
The Velvet Light Trap, 58.1 (2006): 29–40.
Angela Ndalianis, ‘Television and the Neo-Baroque’, in Michael Hammond
and Lucy Mazdon (eds.) The Contemporary Television Series (Edinburgh:
Edinburgh University Press, 2005): 83–101.
OhMally, ‘The Captain’s Secret’, Fanfiction.Net, 6 August (2018), https://www.
fanfiction.net/s/12685215/72/The-Captain-s-Secret.
Roberta Pearson and Máire Messenger Davies, Star Trek and American
Television (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press,
2014).
‘r/startrek’, ‘[Spoilers] I Think that Lorca…’, Reddit, 29 January (2018),
https://www.Reddit.com/r/startrek/comments/7p5bo6/spoilers_i_think_
that_lorca.
Gene Roddenberry, ‘Star Trek. The Next Generation. Writer/Director’s
Guide’, TV Writing, 23 March (1987), leethomson.myzen.co.uk/Star_
Trek/2_The_Next_Generation/Star_Trek_-_The_Next_Generation_Bible.
pdf.
Carli Velocci, ‘Why “Star Trek: Discovery” Will Be Franchise’s “Most
Serialized” Version’, The Wrap, 1 August (2017), https://www.thewrap.
com/star-trek-discovery-will-franchises-serialized-version.
Matt Wright, ‘STLV17: Brannon Braga On How Kirk Should Have Died,
“Star Trek: Enterprise” Regrets and More’, TrekMovie, 11 August (2017),
https://www.trekmovie.com/2017/08/11/sltv17-brannon-braga-on-how-
kirk-should-have-died-star-trek-enterprise-regrets-and-more.

Episodes and Films Cited

‘The Menagerie, Pt. 1.’ Star Trek: The Original Series, written by Gene
Roddenberry, directed by Marc Daniels, NBC, 17 November, 1966.
 STAR TREK’S MIRROR UNIVERSE IN THE POST-NETWORK ERA 125

‘The Menagerie, Pt. 2.’ Star Trek: The Original Series, written by Gene
Roddenberry, directed by Robert Butler, NBC, 24 November, 1966.
‘Mirror, Mirror.’ Star Trek: The Original Series, written by Jerome Bixby,
directed by Marc Daniels, NBC, 6 October, 1967.
‘Crossover.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Peter Allan Fields, directed
by David Livingston, Paramount Television, 15 May, 1994.
‘Through the Looking Glass.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ira Steven
Behr and Robert Hewitt Wolfe, directed by Winrich Kolbe, Paramount
Television, 17 April, 1995.
‘Shattered Mirror.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ira Steven Behr
and Hans Beimler, directed by James L. Conway, Paramount Television,
22 April, 1996.
‘Resurrection.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Michael Taylor, directed
by LeVar Burton, Paramount Television, 17 November, 1997.
‘The Emperor’s New Cloak.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ira Steven
Behr and Hans Beimler, directed by LeVar Burton, Paramount Television,
3 February, 1999.
‘In a Mirror, Darkly.’ Star Trek: Enterprise, written by Michael Sussmann,
directed by James L. Conway and Marvin V. Rush, UPN, 22 April, 2005.
‘Despite Yourself.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Sean Cochran, directed by
Jonathan Frakes, CBS, 7 January, 2017.
‘The Wolf Inside.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa Randolph, directed by
T.J. Scott, CBS, 14 January, 2017.
‘Vaulting Ambition.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordon Nardino, directed
by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS, 21 January, 2017.
‘The War Without, The War Within.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa
Randolph, directed by David Solomon, CBS, 4 February, 2017.
‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Kemp Powers, directed by Lee Rose, CBS, 24 September,
2017.
‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller, Gretchen
J. Berg, and Aaron Harberts, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS, 1 October,
2017.
‘Lethe.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Joe Menosky and Ted Sullivan,
directed by Douglas Aarniokowski, CBS, 22 October, 2017.
‘Into the Forest I Go.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon Kim and Erika
Lippoldt, directed by Chris Byrne, CBS, 12 November, 2017.

Star Trek: First Contact. 1996. Directed by Jonathan Frakes. Paramount

Pictures.
‘Lorca, I’m Really Gonna Miss Killing You’
The Fictional Space Created by
Time Loop Narratives
Sarah Böhlau

The Time Loop Narrative

In his recent book about the history of time-travel narrative James

Gleick notes: ‘Time travel feels like an ancient tradition, rooted in old
mythologies, old as gods and dragons’ (Gleick, 2016, 4). And it does feel
like the idea of travelling through time must always have been a part of
the human imagination, always a well-known storytelling device. One
glance at the rich intertextuality of Star Trek: Discovery’s (2017–ongoing)
season two shows how deeply and widely the narrative device is still
entrenched in contemporary popular culture.
But in fact, the trope is very much a modern fantasy, born out of the
scientific and philosophical discourses and narrative innovations of the
late nineteenth century. Its sub-trope, the recursive time loop, is even
younger, originating in the early 1990s. As a narrative phenomenon in
popular culture, the recursive time loop is most often associated with
Harold Raimi’s movie Groundhog Day (1993) – the online database TV
Tropes, for example, refers to the trope as the ‘“Groundhog Day” Loop.’ A
Groundhog Day time loop occurs when the temporal fabric of a narrative
world enfolds one or several characters in a recurring circular loop,
while for the rest of the storyworld time flows in its natural direction.
This generates a peculiar fictional space within a narrative, where – as
time travel often does – known variables like cause and effect, risk and
reward, even life and death follow a new set of rules. Without any
external consequences for their actions, the time looper finds himself
promoted to a godlike gamemaster – and simultaneously cursed to a
Sisyphus-like existence.
But despite the close cultural association with Groundhog Day, the
trope actually originates from a Star Trek episode airing the year
before. Star Trek, never a franchise to shy away from bold narrative
tools, introduced what is wildly acknowledged as the first time loop

127
128 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

narrative in The Next Generation (TNG) (1987–1999) season five episode

‘Cause and Effect’ (1992). Series writer Brannon Braga remembers
scripting the episode: ‘I love time travel stories and I don’t know
who doesn’t. We wanted to do a time travel story that had never
been done before. Being trapped in a time loop is one I’ve never seen
before’ (Gross and Altmann, 1995, 241). In the episode the Enterprise
is caught in a ‘temporal distortion,’ trapping her in a day-long loop
which ends in a deathly collision with another spaceship. Famously,
‘Cause and Effect’ starts in medias res, several loops in. Picard barely
has time to command to abandon the ship before the Enterprise
explodes, killing everyone on board. Writer Ron Moore is especially
proud of this bold episode opener: ‘You will never be able to beat
that teaser. That’s the definite one’ (Gross and Altmann, 1995, 241).
Time then resets, as it already has, we will find out later, many
times. There is no sole looper in ‘Cause and Effect,’ the whole ship
is unaware of the temporal circumstances, until the feeling of déjà
vu seeps into the awareness of several characters, allowing them to
eventually break the circle.
During the repeated loops, several identical (or near identical) scenes
are shot from different angles in an attempt to prevent the narrative
becoming ‘dangerously repetitive’ (Gross and Altmann, 1995, 242).
Central to the episode is a poker game between senior officers Riker,
Crusher, Worf and Data. The experience of déjà vu sharpens from
Dr. Crusher winning, smugly telling Riker she ‘just had a feeling’ he
was bluffing, to all players being able to correctly predict each of the
‘sufficiently randomized’ cards Data deals.
Since ‘Cause and Effect,’ the trope has become a well-known
storytelling device. Television formats that have utilized the time loop
range from science fiction series (Stargate SG-1, 1997–2007), space operas
(Farscape, 1999–2003) and mystery (X-Files, 1993–2018) to fantasy series
like Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997–2003), Supernatural (2005–ongoing)
or even Xena: Warrior Princess (1995–2001). Current cinematic examples
of the trope include the 2011 movie Source Code by director Duncan
Jones and Doug Liman’s Edge of Tomorrow (2014).1 And, most recently,
the Netflix production Russian Doll (2019) dedicated a whole series to
the narrative device. While the time loop is certainly centered in the
fantastic genres – as all of the examples listed above indicate – there
are some unexpected branches into realistic narratives like comedy (The

1
Will Tattersdill also reflects on time loop narratives and their relation to
changes in the way TV shows are structured and narrated in his essay
‘Discovery and the Form of Victorian Periodicals’ published in this volume.
 THE FICTIONAL SPACE CREATED BY TIME LOOP NARRATIVES 129

Suite Life on Deck, 2008–2011). And one might even hesitate to classify
Groundhog Day as a fantasy film rather than a realistic one using a
singular fantastic trope.
Beside the time-travel concept itself, there is another significant
narrative influence present in time loop stories, which happens to
be directly addressed in the time loop episode of the TNT fantasy
series The Librarians (2014–2018). In episode 2x08, ‘And the Point of
Salvation’ (which, like ‘Cause and Effect,’ was directed by Jonathan
Frakes), it takes the looper in question only a few moments to diagnose
his current situation, even dutifully namedropping notable examples
of the trope in other television shows: ‘It’s a time loop. We’re trapped
in a time loop. We’re repeating the day over, just like in that movie
“Groundhog Day” ... or “Star Trek” or “X-Files” or “Buffy”’ (The
Librarians, 2x08). But he is wrong. His team is, in fact, trapped in a
computer game. He realizes this after, during the nervous breakdown
that inevitably occurs at a certain point of the loop narrative, he kicks
a nearby box and it turns – accompanied by the appropriate sound
effect – into a med pack.
But the looper’s initial mistake is an easy one to make, as the
adventure computer game and the time loop are relatives, narratively
speaking. According to Martin Hermann, the advent of computer games
into the cultural awareness clearly aided in the birth of the time loop
narrative (Hermann, 2011, 146), The fictional space created by time
loops takes on a ‘game-like quality’ (Hermann, 2011, 149), as it presents
the looper with conditions similar to the virtual surroundings of a
computer game. Loops resemble game levels to be navigated again and
again until everything unknown is detected, everything unexpected
is anticipated, and the mastery over the space is absolute. Of course,
these plots also usually deny the looper the kind of agency a player
is accustomed to:

The options denied to the protagonist as user in time-loop

narratives in comparison to real adventure computer game users
are all located outside the fictional world of the computer game
and concern the missing game menu options. Game menu options
are, for example, to start the game, to exit, to save, etc. (Hermann,
2011, 155)

Any kind of time travel constitutes a narrative paradox, as it goes

against what are considered facts about temporality. As Marie-Laure
Ryan summarizes, there are four generally accepted beliefs about time:
130 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

1. Time flows, and it does so in a fixed direction.

2. You cannot fight this flow and go back in time.
3. Causes always precede their effects.
4. The past is written once and for all. (Ryan, 2009, 142)

The time loop narrative breaks with all four of these rules, excepting
the looper from them. As Ryan further points out, even paradoxical
narratives show a clear ‘resistance to irrationality’ (2009, 159). The
paradox of the time loop only works well if it emerges from an otherwise
coherent narrative: ‘Narrative paradoxes are like the holes in a Swiss
cheese: they only exist as holes because they are surrounded by a solid
texture of rational events’ (Ryan, 2009, 160). The looper is the cheese
in this metaphor. While everything else resets – the time, the space, its
inhabitants, even the looper’s body – his own personal time and memory
continue in a forward direction. For him, cause and effect are still in
their natural order. Therefore, he is the one element within the loop
who is able to keep knowledge, to change, to develop. This marks him
as ‘a kind of linear and stable factor within the repeated or multiplied
universes’ (Eckel, 2013, 282).
Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp), the looper in Discovery’s ‘Magic to Make
the Sanest Man Go Mad’ (1x07), succeeds in outsmarting Harry Mudd
(Rainn Wilson), the person who controls the loop, by spreading this
stabilizing factor – the cheesiness, to borrow Ryan’s metaphor – to the
other crew members. They, too, have access to the information gathered
by the repeating iterations of the same timeline.

‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad’

Most crucial in many of the time loop narratives listed above is the
question of emotional development and human connection, both equally
enabled and denied by the time loop. This is also the case in Discovery’s
stellar episode ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ Mudd having
full control over the loop is an unusual example of the trope. In most
instances the time loop is either caused by an unspecified cosmic entity
(Groundhog Day), random temporal anomaly (TNG), or controlled by an
outsider, be it a rogue angel (Supernatural), malfunctioning computer
game (The Librarians), or trio of wannabe supervillains (Buffy). In each
loop, Mudd enters the Discovery as a parasite, twisting the societal rules
and technical structures that govern her space to his needs, harvesting
the particular information he desires, before abandoning the loop by
carelessly destroying the whole system.
 THE FICTIONAL SPACE CREATED BY TIME LOOP NARRATIVES 131

The time loop therefore does not end randomly but is marked by
the deliberate destruction of the Discovery and the death of everyone on
board. Mudd, as the one controlling the loop, is not exempt from this;
every loop essentially ends with his suicide, as he dies with the others
in each explosion. As we later learn from Tyler (Shazad Latif), Mudd
is an experienced looper, who has likely used the same method for a
prior bank heist (1x07), which results in Mudd displaying a high level
of confidence: thus, he readily pulls the trigger. Each new reset creates
a new Discovery and a new Mudd, who, armed with the knowledge
of his predecessors, can once again infest the ship in search of more
advantages. In terms of narrative spaces, then, there is not one Mudd,
but rather a consecutive queue of Mudds, whose knowledge carries into
the loop following their death.
Stamets’ piggybacking on Mudd’s time loop due to his infusion
of tardigrade DNA in an earlier episode (1x05, ‘The Butcher’s Knife
Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry’), essentially enables him to do the
same, but his situation is fundamentally different. Martin Herrmann
distinguishes between time loop quests and time loop prisons (Hermann,
2011, 146). While the former is structured around a certain (internal
or external) goal to be reached, the latter is about overcoming an
antagonistic force. Hermann qualifies Groundhog Day as an example
of the internal quest time loop. Bill Murray’s thoroughly unpleasant
weatherman Phil is forced to relive the titular day until the weight of
repetition and boredom forces him to transform himself into a more
caring, conscious human being. While he is certainly imprisoned in
many ways, as Linda Thompson states, the obstacles Phil is facing are
all situated in his own character traits: ‘In effect, for the purposes of
narrative causality, Phil is literally his own worst enemy – protagonist
and antagonist rolled into one’ (Thompson, 1999, 133). While Mudd
is on a quest of his own design, Stamets is very much imprisoned in
the loop. Furthermore, it is a captivity with a definite release date.
He is very aware that there is a finite number of loops until Mudd
has everything he wants. Equally, there is a definite quest-like quality
to Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) overcoming her fear of social
interaction and approaching Tyler.
Within the episode, an exact loop count is difficult, since the only
hint given is Mudd bragging about killing Lorca (Jason Isaacs) 53 times
(‘But who’s counting?’), which occurs in the third-to-last loop (1x07).
Assigning the iterations Greek alphabet letters, I will henceforth call
the first loop, the original iteration of the time frame, loop α. The last
loop, which ends with Mudd deactivating the device he uses to control
the time distortion and everyone reentering normal time, loop ω. Loop
132 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

ω is the only permanent timeline, therefore allowing everyone to keep

their memories.

Loop Memorable Quote

loop α (first one) Mudd: ‘Did you miss me as much
as I missed you?’
loop π Stamets: ‘It all starts with
a gormagander, okay? A
gormagander!’
loop φ Stamets ‘Tell me a secret.
Something that will immediately
prove to you we’ve had this
conversation.’
Loop χ Stamets: ‘Dance with me. For
science.’
Loop ψ Tyler: ‘This night’s gotten weird.
But also, very interesting.’
Loop ω (last one) Lorca: ‘Lieutenant Stamets has
shown us your success is a
universal certainty.’

The episode opens with Burnham recording her personal log, her
voice-over establishing key elements of the starting point that every
iteration will inevitably revert to. Even if certain areas are resolved
in some matter, like Stamets successfully convincing Burnham he is
not suffering from mushroom-fueled hallucinations, the next loop will
reset these efforts. Burnham remarks: ‘Lieutenant Stamets’ ability to
pilot the ship’s spore drive has given him access not just to all of
space, but to unseen parts of his personality as well’ (1x07). Stamets
has already deviated far from his – as Tilly (Mary Wiseman) puts it
in a later episode – ‘persnickety, grumpy self’ (1x08, ‘Si Vis Pacem,
Para Bellum’), and the whole ship is aware of it. This will complicate
matters considerably for him, as being established as emotionally
compromised prior the time loop prevents him from being taken
seriously.
Central in Burnham’s initial musings are her problems with social
interaction. Routinized professionalism is the space where she is most
comfortable in and she is relieved to have found it on the Discovery:
‘Despite my fears to the contrary, I seem to have found my place on
this Discovery. An air of routine has descended on the ship and even
I am a part of it’ (1x07). The accompanying companionable scenes
 THE FICTIONAL SPACE CREATED BY TIME LOOP NARRATIVES 133

in the cafeteria with Tilly and Tyler are still within a professional
context, allowing Burnham to relax. She also acknowledges her
interest in Tyler. But for Starfleet’s first mutineer the safety of routine
has also taken on the quality of a prison, as Burnham (Sonequa
Martin-Green) is fighting a very deep feeling of social isolation: ‘I
am among the others, but also apart’ (1x07). Another shot mirrors
the previous scenes with Tilly und Tyler, but here Burnham is sitting
alone at the mess hall table. The log entry ends with Burnham
steeling herself for ‘one of my greatest challenges so far’ (1x07) and
entering the crew party. Here, the space deviates much from the
usual aesthetics: party floodlights and sparklers illuminate the room,
Wyclef Jean’s 1997 single ‘We Trying to Stay Alive’ blasts loudly
through speakers, forcing the partygoers, variously wearing uniform
and civilian clothes, to bend closely together to converse. Tilly’s
social nature only shines brighter in the relaxed atmosphere of the
party, and we see her confidently moving through the room, taking
part in party games and flirting with tactical officer Lieutenant Rhys
(Patrick Kwok-Choon).
The lights flickering indicate Mudd activating the time loop device
and we enter the timeframe of loop α. Tilly α drunkenly prods a visibly
uncomfortable Burnham α about her romantic interest in Tyler, which
Burnham unconvincingly tries to transfer back into a professional
setting. Tyler α’s speech about camaraderie and shared experiences
only further highlights her isolation: ‘We’re all lucky to be here
tonight, surrounded by our brothers and sisters-in-arms. Laughing.
Dancing’ (1x07). He joins Burnham α for a few moments, until a comm
announcement calls both of them to the bridge, with Tyler α accurately,
but not unkindly, joking about her being ‘saved from the horrors of
small talk by duty’ (1x07).
On the way to the bridge, while awkwardly trying to explain her
social insecurity to Tyler α, she crashes into a very happy and hyper
Stamets α, who is accompanied by Culber α (Wilson Cruz). He waves
off her polite apology and reaches into Burnham’s personal space to
draw her into a tight hug: ‘Why would you apologize for a random
act of physical interaction? These are the moments that make life so
gloriously unpredictable’ (1x07). Said glorious unpredictability will, of
course, soon be lost to the time loop. Stamets α proceeds to cross over
more social boundaries: He mentions Tyler’s experience as a victim of
prolonged torture and highlights the tension he notices between him
and Burnham. His personality change is a well-known fact among his
co-workers, but Culber α’s apologetic remark about his partner being
‘different’ further underlines this point (1x07). Burnham α likely
134 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

tolerates the unfamiliar physical affection as a side-effect of Stamets’

link to the spore drive.
On the bridge, the gormagander – gormagander α, just to be
thorough with the labelling – is identified and established as an
obvious projection for Burnham’s personal struggles: ‘They spend
their lives feeding on alpha particles in solar winds. They’re often so
consumed by this task that they ignore all other instincts. Including
reproduction’ (1x07). A disinterested Lorca α allows Burnham α to take
charge, and she heads down to the cargo bay as the animal is beamed
in. As mentioned above, Burnham not only feels safer in professional
settings, it also enables her to display emotions she would otherwise
not be comfortable with. In the prior episode ‘Lethe’ (1x06) we see
her acting as Tilly’s training partner and mentor, a role that allows
her to openly show care and affection, using parameters like breakfast
nutrition. When later requesting Tilly to accompany her on the mission
to save Sarek (James Frain), she admits to Lorca that, in addition
to Tilly’s competence, she also needs the younger woman’s ‘moral
support’ (1x06). Similarly, feeling safe in her position of a scientist
examining a wounded animal, Burnham α now displays empathy for
the gormagander (‘she is all alone’), tenderly calling the space whale
a ‘sweet girl’ (1x07).
Mudd α emerges from inside gormagander α and proceeds to shoot
his way through the ship. Being confronted by Lorca α over the comm
system, he readily lays out his plans to steal and sell the Discovery and,
additionally, to kill Lorca ‘as many times as possible’ (1x07). Mudd α
does not hesitate to detonate the ship from the inside, killing himself
in the process as well. In this case he uses an explosive device he
has brought with him, but in later iterations he prefers using the
Discovery’s own systems against her: ‘There are so many ways to blow
up this ship. It’s almost a design flaw’ (1x07). The explosion marks
the end of loop α.
An exterior shot of the undamaged Discovery, zooming in on the
windows of the room housing the party, and the refrain of the now
subtext-laden ‘We Trying to Stay Alive’ establish that time has been reset.
This is the second loop we see, but the narrative has skipped an untold
number of iterations in between, likely dozens. I somewhat arbitrarily
assign this loop the number π. Mudd π has made significant headway in
taking over the ship’s systems and narrowed the Discovery’s secret down
to Stamets’ lab, where he is able to activate the spore drive, but cannot
use it. Stamets π meanwhile has yet to find ‘a win for the home team’
(1x07) and is increasingly frustrated. He has, however, succeeded in
keeping Mudd’s attention away from himself as both co-looper and the
 THE FICTIONAL SPACE CREATED BY TIME LOOP NARRATIVES 135

crucial component missing from the spore drive. Loop π begins with the
same party conversations we have seen before, but, as a visual nod to
‘Cause and Effect,’ they are shot from different angles. The first visible
deviation from loop α occurs when, instead of colliding with Burnham
π and Tyler π in front of the elevator, Stamets π catches up to them
moments later, alone. His frantic warnings are collectively dismissed as
part of his condition and he is quickly dragged off by an approaching
Culber π, but not before mentioning the gormagander. This strange
premonition causes the next point of divergence: An alarmed Tyler
π accompanies Burnham π down to the cargo bay and gormagander
π. Mudd π meanwhile has gained enough information on and control
over the ship to simply beam into Stamets’ lab, where he activates the
spore drive. When Lorca π orders the nearby Tyler π to the scene, he
and Burnham π confront him together. Here Stamets π, who has been
hiding in the background, and proceeds to shoot Mudd π from behind,
learns the crucial information about Tyler’s shared past with the invader,
finally gaining an angle to work with.
It is unclear how many returns pass between loop π and the next
one we see. Apparently, Stamets does try to approach Tyler himself
(unfortunately, there is no montage sequence of those attempts), but
between Stamets’ compromised credibility and the lack of prior contact
between the two men, he seems to have been unsuccessful. Stamets
thus has to borrow another person’s personal connection with Tyler to
get him to talk, and Lorca is not a good option, for multiple reasons.
This only leaves Burnham, whose ‘deal’ with Tyler he has picked up
on in loop α (1x07). The next loop shows Stamets chasing her down
to acquire her help. This is the fourth-to-last iteration, loop Φ in my
classification. Stamets Φ catches up to Burnham Φ on her way down
to the gormagander and spends most of the remaining time convincing
her of his coherence, the direness of the situation, and the need for her
to retrieve the information from Tyler.
He does get Burnham Φ to believe him, but loop Φ is almost over, so
the weight of acting has to be shifted to the next loop (χ). Knowing that
Stamets χ cannot repeat the lengthy explanation process with Burnham χ
again, he asks for a piece of information to carry over the result of their
conversation – his credibility – into the next loop: ‘Something that will
immediately prove to you we’ve had this conversation. Something you’ve
never admitted to anyone’ (1x07). Meanwhile, Mudd Φ has also changed
tactics. He lures Lorca Φ from the bridge to get access to his ‘man cave’
(1x07), hoping to find the missing information to the spore drive there.
Under Mudd’s growing corruption of the Discovery, the safe environment
of the ship has turned against its inhabitants. He can determine their
136 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

location on – or in Lorca’s case, off – the ship, fake communications,

and invalidate the crew members’ commands, therefore negating their
very purpose on board. The montage of him killing Lorca showcases his
increasing mastery over the systems. While only using a phaser in the
beginning, at the end he is able to beam the captain into open space
with only a handwave.
With the shortcut provided by Stamets Φ, Stamets χ can skip the
time-consuming task of getting Burnham χ to believe him, and he is
able to narrow it down to a few sentences:

We’ve been caught in a 30-minute time loop, and I’m the only one
who realizes it. I have witnessed you and Lorca and Tyler die at
the hands of a criminal named Harry Mudd, who is trying to take
over our ship. I need to know you believe me, because if I have to
explain this again, I’m gonna throw myself out an air lock. (1x07)

While Burnham χ is quickly convinced and goes to talk to Tyler χ,

Stamets χ’s added assurance of Tyler reciprocating her interest causes
her to freeze: ‘I had one chance to fix all this and I blew it’ (1x07),
she states miserably. Stamets χ doesn’t disagree, and he shifts the focus
to preparing the next iteration, collecting intel for Stamets ψ. Since any
coaching he provides Burnham cannot exceed the 30-minute window,
he can hardly teach her anything new: ‘I need to see what I’m working
with’ (1x07). Picking up on Burnham’s preference for professional
settings, he asks her to dance with him ‘for science’ (1x07), essentially
mixing the private and the professional. They settle on the strategy of
honesty, since Stamets knows it to be key for a relationship and Burnham
already possesses this trait: ‘I’m good at honesty’ (1x07). This is not
something she has to learn within the very narrow time frame. Being
very honest with each other as well, Burnham χ and Stamets χ grow
closer emotionally during the scene. Notably, their hands stay linked as
the ship explodes around them, restarting time once again.
Loop ψ starts with Burnham ψ marching determinedly up to Tyler
ψ and pulling him to the dance floor. Stamets ψ seems to have engaged
in a bit of audio-environmental manipulation himself, as the soundtrack
of the party changes from Wyclef Jean to a song suitable for slow
dancing, Al Green’s ‘Love and Happiness’ (1972). This further positions
Stamets as Mudd’s moral counterpoint: While he also takes control of the
environment and uses the loop-acquired knowledge to further his own
plans, Stamets does so in order to save the whole ship and, additionally,
to play matchmaker for a pair of lonely and traumatized colleagues. His
mission is one of love and salvation. Mudd on the other hand not only
 THE FICTIONAL SPACE CREATED BY TIME LOOP NARRATIVES 137

uses the ship’s systems to repeatedly and sadistically destroy it, he also
does so while hiding from his own familial obligations. As the reunion
with his wife shows, Stella (Katherine Barrell) – in her own, forceful
way – offers Mudd the very thing Stamets underlines as the key for a
successful relationship: unconditional love without the need to ‘hide who
you are’ (1x07). This is something Stamets has found with Culber and
which Burnham also longs for. Yet Mudd is trying to escape from it.
Following Stamets’ word of advice regarding honesty, Burnham ψ
forgoes small talk and summarizes the threat presented by Mudd, ending
with an admission of her interest in him. Tyler ψ believes her and, while
he echoes Stamets’ (π) earlier statement of the situation being ‘weird,‘
he also quickly hones in to the fact that within the space provided by
the time loop, all the normal repercussions of actions are somewhat
suspended, and initiates a kiss: ‘If time really is repeating, this won’t
matter’ (1x07). This proves incorrect, since Stamets ψ witnesses the
scene and Stamets ω makes sure to carry this particular information
out of the loop. At the end of the episode, Tyler both negates and
confirms the reality of the timelines contained within the lost loops, as
he tells Burnham: ‘I’m just sad we missed our first kiss’ (1x07). Their
intimate moment in loop ψ is interrupted by the comm ordering them
to the bridge. In a reversal of earlier loops, the report to duty is now
an unwelcome interruption, and Burnham ψ actively pulls Tyler back
when he tries to draw away: ‘Please, ignore it. We have to’ (1x07). They
continue dancing as Tyler ψ recalls the tales Mudd has shared during
their shared captivity.
Intermixed with this, Mudd ψ is shown deftly evading the crew’s
walking patterns with the surety of a player navigating a well-known
level of a computer game. The hints provided by Tyler allow Burnham
ψ to identify the likely source of Mudd’s technology as a ‘time crystal’
(1x07). Meanwhile on the bridge, as Lorca ψ wonders aloud about his
missing personnel, the arrival of Mudd ψ is heralded by loud opera
music (Richard Wagner’s Lohengrin (1850)) over the comm. ‘Captain
Mudd’ has complete control over the environment now, and the crew
finds itself locked out of the systems. Notably, Mudd ψ spares Lorca’s
life here, as does Mudd ω in the last loop. It seems that for Mudd, the
repeated murder of Lorca is a part of the suspended space within the
time loops. He even expresses first signs of fatigue: ‘I never thought I
would say this, but I’m actually tired of gloating’ (1x07). With victory
in his sights and, therefore, the high probability of the current iteration
being the last and permanent one, he takes steps to ensure Lorca’s
survival, probably to prolong his suffering by forcing him to reenter
Klingon captivity. When Stamets ψ, Burnham ψ and Tyler ψ interrupt
138 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Mudd ψ threatening the crew for the missing information, he kills his
former cellmate. This proves too much for Stamets ψ: ‘I can’t watch
you kill any more people’ (1x07). He reveals himself as part of the
spore drive, ending Mudd’s quest. He does this either in confidence
that Burnham ψ will find a solution or, more likely, because he has
reached his limit.
It is important to remember here that Stamets is not just imprisoned
in a time loop, but in a traumatic experience, witnessing the safe space
of the Discovery violated and his partner Dr. Culber, their colleagues,
and himself being killed over and over. Much of the traumatic aspect
that often colors time loop narratives resides in the complete lack of
consequences outside of the psychological. If no cause has a permanent
effect in the physical world, the most damaging, unforgivable actions
can be repeated infinitely, damaging the mind while leaving the body
intact. This allows a much higher concentration of traumatic experiences.
For most of the loops, Stamets has no strategy but to keep himself to
the background, enduring the repeated murders without the ability to
intervene. After he shoots Mudd in loop π in his lab, he walks up to
Burnham π and Tyler π, searching physical closeness, but turns his back
on them as the ship explodes, not wanting to see them die.
As far as temporality is concerned, traumatic memory and the time
loop narrative have some structural similarities. The involuntary reliving
of a painful memory and the inability to move on is symptomatic of
trauma. As such, the traumatic experience tends to undercut the spatial
and temporal structures of human memory (Luckhurst, 1998, 44–46).
In fact, ‘one of the most estranging aspects of trauma is its impact on
the subjective experience of time, both during the moment of wounding
and afterward’ (Chu, 2010, 174). Through the use of narrative devices
such as time travel, science fiction (and fantasy) narratives can provide
a ‘literalization of trauma’s atemporality’ (Chu, 2010, 176), packaging
the cognitive mechanics associated with PTSD, for instance, into the
metaphor of a time loop prison. For Stamets, escaping the trauma can
only be achieved by ending the time loop. And the only way he can
get Mudd to do this is to give himself up.
Incidentally, time travel as the central theme of Discovery’s second
season is also closely connected to trauma. As a season-framing arc,
the appearances of the Red Angel turn out to be part of a (singular)
loop that Burnham ultimately has to close herself. The imprisoning
and, even more salient, the traumatizing quality of time is especially
evident in the story of Dr. Gabrielle Burnham (Sonja Sohn). No matter
how many temporal jumps Michael’s mother attempts, she will always
be dragged forward into the desolate future, separated from her own
 THE FICTIONAL SPACE CREATED BY TIME LOOP NARRATIVES 139

time and her family. As she warns her daughter: ‘People think time is
fragile. Precious. Beautiful. Sand in an hourglass, all that. But it’s not.
Time is savage. It always wins’ (2x11, ‘Perpetual Infinity’).
Between Burnham, Tyler and Stamets, the information gathered in ψ
is enough for the crew to devise a strategy to defeat Mudd, but it only
becomes viable in the next loop. Also, while Tyler ψ is dead, Burnham ψ
is very aware that he will only ‘really be dead’ if the current loop is the
final one. Since Mudd has gotten everything he wants out of the current
iteration, Burnham ψ must now change his priorities to something he
will be unable to carry out of loop ψ. Therefore, she provides him with
lucrative information and makes sure he can only act on it in yet another
reset. Revealing her identity and successfully establishing herself as the
(in terms of monetary reward by the Klingons) most valuable part of
the Discovery, Burnham ψ quickly kills herself, forcing an annoyed (but
not worried) Mudd ψ to reset the time loop one last time, initiating loop
ω (1x07). Being the last loop, this is the timeline that everyone on the
Discovery will remember.
While a yawning Mudd ω once again goes through the motions of
infiltrating the ship, the critical knowledge about his intrusion is quickly
spread among the crew. When Mudd ω arrives on the bridge, the space
has lost its predictability: they are already expecting him. Through the
whole episode, Mudd underlines his position of superiority by addressing
the crew members as ‘kiddies,’ or mockingly using nicknames like ‘Gabe’
(Lorca) or ‘Petunia’ (Burnham) (1x07). Realizing he has had a stowaway,
he similarly now scolds Stamets ω like a misbehaving student: ‘You.
Hmm. You’ve been cheating. Passing notes in class to save your friends’
(1x07). Signaling the reversal of Mudd’s fortunes, Tyler will later address
him as ‘Harry’ and his wife Stella drags him away as a ‘naughty boy’
(1x07). When he enters the bridge for the last time, however, he is still
feeling secure in the reset power of the time crystal: ‘Well, whatever you
think you’ve come up with, I’ll find a workaround. I’ll keep resetting
time until I do’ (1x07). But Mudd claiming dominion over the Discovery
includes a division of the space into important and unimportant, critical
and non-critical parts. In a space where one knows exactly what move
to make and what to pay attention to, the looper equally knows what
to ignore. Anticipating this, the crew uses the ‘non-critical’ systems
to falsify the signal Mudd ω uses the hail the waiting Klingons. In a
reversal of Mudd Φ calling Lorca Φ away from the bridge with a false
message from Culber, Mudd ω now falls victim to a similar trick. With
the crew seemingly surrendered and the Klingons on their way, he ends
the time loop, giving up his ability to reset. The ship enters normal
time and, with it, the moment for the crew of the Discovery to gloat.
140 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Without the device, Mudd has to face the consequences for his actions;
he can no longer prevent the effects of the causes his actions yield.2 As
Burnham smugly tells him: ‘Now you don’t have your time crystal, you
can’t learn from this mistake’ (1x07).
As we have seen, the space created by the time loop presents a unique
narrative. The characters within the loop have to navigate through a
space where the normal rules governing not just temporality, but human
interaction and experiences, have been twisted to a partly traumatizing
degree. With the way Mudd uses the looping device, each loop is aimed at
the securing of information for the next – the space loses its independent
value, but also offers whole new possibilities to learn.
Learning is central for both those trapped in a time loop prison as well
as those following a time loop quest. A way to end the loop is always
connected to the knowledge the unique temporal space allows the looper
to learn. Whatever the looper finds out will ultimately be responsible
to break the spell, find the hidden door, trick the villain, escape the
temporal distortion. Mudd’s quest is centered on the knowledge he gains
about the Discovery’s systems and the movements of her crew. The more
he knows, the greater his power over the space and the possibilities to
twist it to suit his own needs. As the one controlling the loop, Mudd
can hit replay any time he wants, but he still needs to reach a certain
goal before he is willing to end it.
Trapped in a time loop prison meanwhile, Stamets not only needs
to find a way to end the loops, but also to make sure to alter Mudd’s
desired outcome. And this necessitates gaining critical knowledge about
Mudd himself. This creates a sub-quest for Burnham, who has to
overcome her social insecurity to approach Tyler as the person most
intimately connected to the intruder. Human connection proves to be
a critical point not only for Stamets and Burnham, and Burnham and
Tyler, but also for Mudd himself. Unaware of his temporal stowaway,
Mugdd carelessly exposes his plans, strategies and private information.
He becomes predictable himself, allowing the crew to collect the
information necessary to defeat him and carry it over to the final loop.
The prison doors are opened.

2
While Starfleet seems keen to keep the whole matter from being publicly
known, in the Short Trek ‘The Escape Artist’ (2019) it is revealed that the
charge of ‘penetrating a space whale’ has somehow found its way onto the
official records pertaining to Mudd.
 THE FICTIONAL SPACE CREATED BY TIME LOOP NARRATIVES 141

Works Cited

Seo-Young Chu, Do Metaphors Dream of Literal Sleep? A Science-Fictional Theory

of Representation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010).
Julia Eckel, ‘Twisted Times. Non-Linearity and Temporal Disorientation
in Contemporary Cinema’, in Julia Eckel (ed.) (Dis)Orienting Media and
Narrative Mazes (Bielefeld: Transcript, 2013): 275–91.
James Gleick, Time Travel. A History (New York: Pantheon, 2016).
Edward Gross and Mark A. Altman, Captains’ Logs. The Unauthorized Complete
Trek Voyages (London: Little, Brown, 1995).
Martin Hermann, ‘Goes Computer Game: Narrative Remediation in the
Time-Loop Quests Groundhog Day and 12:01’, in Jan Alber (ed.) Unnatural
Narratives – Unnatural Narratology (Berlin and Boston, MA: De Gruyter,
2011): 145–61.
Roger Luckhurst, ‘The Science-Fictionalization of Trauma: Remarks on
Narratives of Alien Abduction’, Science Fiction Studies, 25.1 (1998): 20–52.
Marie-Laure Ryan, ‘Temporal Paradoxes in Narrative’, style, 43.2
(2009): 142–64.
Kristin Thompson, Storytelling in the New Hollywood: Understanding Classical
Narrative Technique (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999).

Star Trek Episodes Cited

‘Cause and Effect.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Brannon Braga,
directed by Jonathan Frakes, Paramount Television, 21 March, 1992.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 8 October, 2017.
‘Lethe.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Joe Menosky and Alex Kurtzman,
directed by Douglas Aarniokoski, CBS Television Studios, 22 October,
2017.
‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by
Aron Eli Coleite and Jesse Alexander, directed by David M. Barrett, CBS
Television Sutdios, 29 October, 2017.
‘Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by John Scott, CBS Television Studios, 6 November, 2017.
‘The Escape Artist.’ Star Trek: Short Treks, written by Michael McMahan,
directed by Rainn Wilson, CBS Television Studios, 3 January, 2019.
‘Perpetual Infinity.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Alan McElroy and
Brandon Schultz, directed by Maja Vrvilo, CBS Television Studios,
28  March, 2019.
142 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Notable Time Loop Episodes in Television

Shows Not Named Star Trek Cited

‘‘Twas the Night Before Mxymas.’ Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of
Superman, written by Tim Minear, directed by Michael Vejar, December 3rd
Productions, Gangbuster Films Inc., Roundelay Productions, and Warner
Bros. Television, 8 May, 1998.
‘Been There, Done That.’ Xena: Warrior Princess, written by Hilary J. Bader,
directed by Andrew Merrifield, Renaissance Pictures and MCA TV,
15  November, 1998.
‘Déjà Vu All Over Again.’ Charmed, written by Constance M. Burge and
Brad Kern, directed by Les Sheldon, Spelling Television, 3 October, 1999.
‘Monday.’ X-Files, written by Vince Gilligan and John Shiban, directed by
Kim Manners, Ten Thirteen Productions, 20th Television (1993–1995),
and 20th Century Fox Television (1995–2002, 2016–2018), 27 December,
1999.
‘Back and Back and Back to the Future.’ Farscape, written by Babs Greyhosky,
directed by Rowan Woods, The Jim Henson Company, Nine Films and
Television, and Hallmark Entertainment, 26 September, 2000.
‘Window of Opportunity.’ Stargate SG-1, written by Joseph Mallozzi and
Paul Mullie, directed by Peter DeLuise, MGM Television, Double Secret
Productions, Gekko Film Corp. (1997–2005), Sony Pictures Television
(2005–2006), 4 July, 2001.
‘Life Serial.’ Buffy the Vampire Slayer, written by David Fury and Jane
Espenson, directed by Nick Marck, Mutant Enemy Productions, Sandollar
Television, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, 9 October,
2002.
‘International Date Line.’ The Suite Life on Deck, written by Jeny Quine
and Dan Signer, directed by Ellen Gittelsohn, It’s a Laugh Productions,
24  October, 2008.
‘Mystery Spot.’ Supernatural, Season 3, Episode 11, written by Jeremy Carver,
directed by Kim Manners, Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland Sound and
Vision (2005–2013), and Warner Bros. Television, 9 March, 2009.
‘I Do Over.’ Eureka, written by Thania St. John, directed by Matt Earl
Beesley, Universal Cable Productions (2008–2012), Universal Media
Studios (2007–2008), and NBC Universal Television Studio (2006–2007),
27 July, 2009.
‘Audrey Parker’s Day Off.’ Haven, written by Nora Zuckerman and Lilla
Zuckerman, directed by Fred Gerber, Big Motion Pictures Productions,
Entertainment One Television, Piller/Segan/Shepherd, Universal Networks
International, Canwest Global (2010), and Shaw Media (2011–2015), 15
December, 2011.
‘…And the Point of Salvation.’ The Librarians, written by Jeremy Bernstein,
directed by Jonathan Frakes, Kung Fu Monkey Productions and Electric
Entertainment, 13 December, 2015.
 THE FICTIONAL SPACE CREATED BY TIME LOOP NARRATIVES 143

‘Lullaby.’ 12 Monkeys, written by Sean Tretta, directed by Steven A. Adelson,

Division Street (season 3–4), Atlast Entertainment, and Universal Cable
Productions, 6 June, 2016.
‘The Lotus Eaters.’ Cloak & Dagger, written by Joe Pokaski and Peter
Calloway, directed by Paul A. Edwards, Wadnering Rocks Production,
ABC Signature Studios, and Marvel Television, 13 July, 2018.
 Discovery and the Form
of Victorian Periodicals
Will Tattersdill

The most successful character in episode 7 of Discovery is the one who

has seen it already, many times.
‘Don’t you see what’s happening?,’ Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp)
asks, ‘we have been here before – all of us’ (‘Magic to Make the
Sanest Man Go Mad,’ 1x07). Alone among the crew, Stamets has been
connected to the mycelial network and, in consequence, only he can
tell that his ship is caught in a temporal loop, the same 30 minutes
repeating themselves over and over again. When he puts his emphasis
on ‘all of us,’ though, Stamets makes clear that he is not referring only
to the crew of the Discovery. Star Trek aficionados will immediately recall
‘Cause and Effect’ (5x18) the 1992 episode of The Next Generation (TNG;
1987–1994) in which the Enterprise’s Dr. Crusher (Gates McFadden)
negotiates an almost identical situation, and they may recall, too,
Voyager’s (1999–2001) riff on that theme in ‘Coda’ (1997, 3x15). Those
with broader palates will remember the Stargate SG-1 episode ‘Window
of Opportunity’ (2000), the X-Files episode ‘Monday’ (1999, 6x14), or
the Fringe episode ‘White Tulip’ (2010, 2x18). There are so many other
examples of this phenomenon that it has been given a name – the
‘Groundhog Day episode’ after the Bill Murray film which, as Trekkies
never tire of mentioning, postdates ‘Cause and Effect’ by several months
– and a lengthy page on TV Tropes (‘“Groundhog Day” Loop,’ 2018). ‘All
of us’ have indeed been here before: watching our favorite characters
negotiate time loops, over and over again, is a staple component of the
experience of SFF television, one beginning to be discernible at the
time of writing even in ‘capital-L’ literature outside the genre (see, for
instance, Atkinson, 2013).
It is suggestive that Discovery’s groundhog ‘day’ is a mere ‘30-odd’
minutes in length. The loop in ‘Cause and Effect’ is long enough to
include a poker game, the night after it, and a meeting the next morning;
in ‘Window of Opportunity’ it is stated that the loop lasts ten hours.

145
146 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Discovery’s shorter interval accelerates the familiar situation to a degree

that, if we may use the phrase in such a context, strains credibility:
Stamets must work on his solution with a crew who not only forget the
problem every half-hour but need to be convinced of its existence from
scratch.1 From a scriptwriter’s perspective, though, the acceleration is
justifiable, even necessary, because the audience is used to it by now.
Stamets is successful not only because of the Starfleet proclivity for trust
and teamwork but also because he is, as we are, an experienced reader
of the Groundhog Day episode.
Consider Mudd (Rainn Wilson), the villain of the episode and
operator of the time loop device, disparagingly calling the minor
character Bryce (Ronnie Rowe Jr.) ‘random communications officer
man’ during one of his tirades. When this episode aired, Bryce had
not yet been named – he is listed in the end credits as ‘Comm Officer
#2.’ To be outside the time loop is to be in on the joke: Mudd’s tone
here is not that of Star Trek but exactly that of the fan paratexts that
surround it (Mudd utters his insult while pointing a weapon at Bryce,
reminding him of his own ‘redshirt’ status, his narrative dispensa-
bility). The more independent a character is of the flow of repeating
time, the more their condition approaches that of the primary-world
viewer. Stamets, too, evinces this tendency in the scene where he
wearily convinces Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) of their plight
by matching her apparently extemporized dialogue word for word,
inflection for inflection. It is the action of a frustrated colleague in
a desperate and unusual situation, but it is also the action of one
fan demonstrating rote proficiency in a show in order to convince
another of their ardor: I know the words of the episode off by heart;
I, too, am part of your community. From their position above and
beyond on-screen deaths, Mudd and Stamets bear not only the show’s
self-reflexivity but that of its audience.
It is this self-reflexivity, at least in part, that permits the episode’s
accelerated pace. In ‘Cause and Effect,’ we can identify the moment
where the characters meaningfully come to terms with the problem at
around 26 minutes; in ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad’ the
equivalent moment is at around 17 minutes.2 Two things in particular

1
For an exploration of ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad’ as a time
loop episode, see Sarah Böhlau’s essay ‘“Lorca, I’m Really Gonna Miss
Killing You” – the Fictional Space Created by Time Loop Narratives’ in this
volume.
2
Exactly how you define ‘meaningfully come to terms’ in this context
will, of course, move these times around slightly. Fastidious readers will
hopefully take my general point that the Discovery episode proceeds at a
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 147

account for Discovery’s acceleration: firstly, the characters do not require

the Enterprise crew’s lengthy process of coming to terms with the idea
that they might be in a loop (we see this in Stamets’ ability repeatedly
to convince and organize them in half-hour intervals); and, secondly,
neither does the audience, trained in the genre by 25 years of Groundhog
Day episodes (we see this in the writers’ decision to show us only a
couple of instances of Stamets convincing or organizing somebody,
relying on our ability to infer their continuing and repeated presence).
The first of these things is true because the second is true. ‘Magic to
Make the Sanest Man Go Mad’ is a time loop but, unlike ‘Cause and
Effect,’ it is not about time loops – it builds character relationships and
plotlines from earlier in the season and gently furthers the overall arc
of the season. It is able to do this because of the groundwork laid by
the TNG episode and its successors.
Still, though, it is striking that going into the mid-point of its first
season (episode 7 of 15), Discovery offers us its only episode with a
reasonably self-contained plot, its only episode that can intelligibly be
watched out of sequence (‘I think the time loop episode is the only
one that kind of works on its own,’ wrote io9 (Trendacosta, 2018)). This
episode is about a group of people who are experiencing time in short
chunks they are unable to remember or to relate to each other – more,
it is about the power (for good or ill) of the people able to see beyond
the immediate moments they are stuck in and order them as part of a
bigger story. Even without the constant and temporally complex shadow
of ‘Cause and Effect’ – both the episode’s precedent and (in universe)
its distant successor – the commentary on the changing experience of
watching Star Trek is unmissable.

***

It is a commonplace throughout this essay collection that Discovery is

both like and unlike previous iterations of Star Trek. The first television
series in the franchise since Enterprise (2001–2005), it also faces the
unusual challenge of competing with the alternative visions of The
Original Series (1966–1969) represented by the Kelvin timeline movies
(2009–present) and The Orville (2017–ongoing). Combining more than a

faster pace – especially given that the first few minutes of ‘Magic to Make
the Sanest Man Go Mad’ are not in the loop, which seems to start at
around 4 minutes, while the TNG episode begins at the end of a loop that
is already happening.
148 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

decade of hindsight with a spread of simultaneous reinterpretations, the

current moment provides the most visibly thorough working through of
the franchise’s history and potential since at least the release of Galaxy
Quest (1999). Against this background, it is not surprising to find that
Discovery conducts a discussion with its fans about where the true heart
of Star Trek is to be found. It does this quite openly – never more so than
in the liturgical repetition of the phrase ‘We are Starfleet’ during the
season one finale (1x15, ‘Will You Take My Hand’) – but its perorations
on the subject more often feel like icebreakers than like lectures. In
other words, Discovery wants its viewers to think actively about what
Star Trek is for, perhaps even about what science fiction is for. It has an
answer in mind, but it is sincere engagement with the question, rather
than blind agreement, that the show is seeking.
My approach in this chapter is to try and substantiate this claim solely
via a discussion of form – in particular, serial form – examining the
history behind Discovery’s episodic structure and suggesting that the show
engages with that history very openly and very deliberately. My attention
to seriality is informed by my research background in late-Victorian
periodicals, and a secondary aim of this chapter is to convince you that
the relationship between nineteenth century magazines and twenty-
first century sci-fi TV is a little closer than might at first be presumed.
Principally, though, my purpose is to articulate the conversation that
Discovery initiates with its predecessors and with its readers via its form. It
is a conversation, I argue, that materially changes the Star Trek universe:
worldbuilding may be most obviously discernible in plots, settings,
and backstories, but the way we are asked to see those details – and,
particularly here, the rhythm in which we are asked to see them – has
every bit as great a role.
From here, the chapter proceeds in four more sections. I first
discuss the critical conversation around Victorian serials and television,
arguing that science fiction in general and Star Trek in particular could
profitably be added to these exchanges. I then outline the distinction
between the ‘serial’ and the ‘series,’ and the possibility for reading
twenty-first century television that those terms offer us. After that,
I examine the awkward ways in which Discovery does and does not
conform to those terms, suggesting a third analogue in the writings of
H.G. Wells. Finally, I focus on the most important aspect of periodical
publishing – the gap between episodes – in an effort to understand
some of the dissatisfied responses to Discovery (and the show’s own
conflicted formal attitude).
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 149

***

In the 12-year lacuna that separated the end of Enterprise from the
beginning of Discovery, the organization of the television industry
underwent considerable disruption – the emergence of ‘prestige TV,’
the rise of Netflix, and the transformation of YouTube from ‘video-
sharing site’ into ‘network TV alternative’ are only the headlines.3
Interlaced changes in everything from casting to advertising and distri-
bution have left their mark on the way stories are told on television,
although the shift has not been total and numerous older practices
continue undiminished. One of the more obscure consequences of
this shift in television’s topography has been a heightened awareness
among academic Victorianists to what Caroline Levine calls ‘the new
serial television’ and Michael Z. Newman calls the ‘Prime Time Serial
(PTS)’ (Levine, 2013, para. 3; Newman, 2006, 17). The notion is that
placing these shows – the most frequently cited examples are The Wire
(2002–2008) and Mad Men (2007–2015) – alongside Victorian novels such
as Bleak House (1852–1853) and Middlemarch (1871–1872) allows us to
think about previously unnoticed similarities between the two historical
periods, the ahistorical continuities of literary form, or both. In the case
of The Wire, Levine’s favorite example, the large cast of interconnected yet
socially divergent characters, the embedded pleas for social and judicial
reform, and the journalistic background of the creator, David Simon
(to say nothing of an actual mention of Dickens in an episode title), do
indeed render a comparison with Bleak House persuasive.4
Levine makes it clear that the goal is not simply to understand
contemporary television as the ‘descendent’ of the Victorian serial
but rather to view both texts ‘as responding to comparable social
environments’ (Levine, 2013, para. 4). All the same, the discussion runs
the risk of appearing to be an exercise in canon formation, an attempt,
in Jason Mittell’s words, to ‘legitimize and validate the demeaned
television medium by linking it to the highbrow cultural sphere of
literature’ (2011). Levine has herself acknowledged this difficulty,5 but it

3
These changes are discussed at book length in Lotz, 2014.
4
Levine’s full treatment of The Wire is in Levine 2015: chapter 5.
5
‘[Mittell] worries that what is motivating the comparison between television
and fiction is a matter of status: we want the new work to acquire the cachet
of the older, more respected one. In a shameful bid for social distinction,
we push for The Wire to be ranked among high-class works of art. … Thus
it is my hypothesis that on political and social grounds it is more important
to set two particular examples side by side than to invite broad genre and
media comparisons’ (Levine, 2011).
150 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

does not help that her examples are universally drawn from the realm
of capital-L literature – Dickens, Eliot, Charlotte Brontë. Most of the
television shows involved in her analysis, too, as the moniker ‘prestige
TV’ implies, are ‘paradigmatic of a critical darling,’ pulling in rapturous
reviews but not necessarily achieving high Nielsen ratings (Mittell, 2011).
The scholarly conversation has legitimized its unorthodox comparison
of Victorian seriality and contemporary television by applying a marked
small-c conservatism in its choice of examples.
It is not my intention to criticize this tendency: an article can only
fight so many battles at once, arguments work best and travel farthest
when readers are familiar with the primary texts, and The Wire and
Bleak House are superb terrain on which to conduct exactly this kind of
discussion (as the existence of this chapter hopefully suggests, I am also
enthusiastic about any efforts made towards transhistorical analysis in
the currently over-periodized world of literary criticism).6 At the same
time, and with the exception of Lost (2004–2010), science fiction’s almost
total absence from Levine’s conversation seems to be worth pausing over.
The Wire is an almost exact contemporary of Ronald D. Moore’s reboot
of Battlestar Galactica (2004–2009), a show that, despite its considerable
differences from Simon’s magnum opus, is every bit as amenable to a
discussion about character networks, social reform, and the frustrations of
the serial format. Something similar might be said of Fringe (2008–2013),
Heroes (2006–2010), The 4400 (2004–2007), or Orphan Black (2013–2017),
for example.7 It is hardly fair to blame Levine for the omission of the
more recent shows that, since her work was published, have moved
science fiction even closer to the heart of prestige television – Westworld
(2016–), Stranger Things (2016–), The O.A. (2016–2019), The Man in the
High Castle (2015–2019), and the numerous shows associated with the
Marvel Cinematic Universe, for instance – but a discussion about the
televised renewal of the Victorian ‘serial’ over the ‘series’ format that fails
to mention The X Files (1993–2002), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997–2003),
and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (DS9; 1993–1999) – shows that paved the
way for the storytelling format in which the PTS thrives – is certainly
missing an important part of the picture.

6
A superb example of the kind of transhistorical analysis I mean here, which
has absolutely nothing to do with the subject under discussion, is Burge,
2016.
7
I have kept my focus on North American science fiction TV here, but it
needs saying that Doctor Who (1963–1989; 2005–) cries out for comparison
with Victorian fiction – not least during its numerous episodes set in the
Victorian period (eg. ‘The Snowmen,’ 2012; ‘The Talons of Weng-Chiang,’
1977).
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 151

In other words, this discussion is owed some science fiction.

Structurally, Discovery seems very much part of the new generation of
high-budget ‘prestige’ content – but it is not entirely or comfortably so.
To understand why, we first need to understand the formal point that
distinguishes the shows mentioned in the above paragraph from their
predecessors; we need to understand the difference between a ‘serial’
and a ‘series.’

***

Another name surprisingly absent from the academic discussions around

Victorian television has been that of Sherlock Holmes. Holmes is a
Victorian indelibly present in today’s television culture – Netflix has
just, at the time of writing, announced yet another new adaptation
(Carr, 2018) – but the form of Arthur Conan Doyle’s original stories
reverberates far more widely than even their famous protagonist. The
crucial innovation was the ‘series’ format, which Conan Doyle explained
this way in his autobiography:

[I]t had struck me that a single character running through a series,

if it only engaged the attention of the reader, would bind that
reader to that particular magazine. On the other hand, it had long
seemed to me that the ordinary serial might be an impediment
rather than a help to a magazine, since, sooner or later, one missed
one number and afterwards it had lost all interest. Clearly the
ideal compromise was a character which carried through, and yet
instalments which were each complete in themselves, so that the
purchaser was always sure that he could relish the whole contents
of the magazine. I believe that I was the first to realize this and
‘The Strand Magazine’ the first to put it into practice. (Conan
Doyle, 2012, 95–96)

In fact, Conan Doyle’s idea was not wholly unprecedented (‘there is

nothing new under the sun,’ as Holmes remarks, himself quoting
Ecclesiastes 1:9 (Conan Doyle, 1974, 40)), with Edgar Allan Poe’s 1830s
tales of C. Auguste Dupin often cited as an influence (including by Conan
Doyle himself). Poe, though, wrote only three Dupin stories, published
at uneven intervals in different periodicals.8 The key to Holmes’ formal

8
‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’ appeared in the April 1841 edition of
Graham’s Magazine, ‘The Mystery of Marie Rogêt’ in the Ladies’ Companion
152 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

(and therefore commercial) success was the alliance with the Strand,
which assured readers of a different yet unrelated case in every issue and
promised the return of familiar characters with none of the commitment
of a Dickens-style serial.9
Keeping old readers in a periodical rhythm while also welcoming in
new ones with no knowledge of prior happenings, the ‘series’ is vitally
distinct from the Dickens model in not requiring the reader to hunt
down back issues or the writer to incorporate recaps of long-ago plot
points into later instalments. It also has the important effect, as Conan
Doyle himself implies in the above quotation, of elevating character and
situation over plot as the principle source of attraction for viewers; the
formal shift in emphasis meaningfully alters the world of the story (a
point to which I shall return). Though Conan Doyle developed it for
print, the series model became central to twentieth century television:
TV Tropes calls it ‘Monster of the Week’ (‘[it] can be seen as the complete
antithesis of a Story Arc’), and by the debut of Star Trek in 1966 it was
one of the default modes of franchise storytelling, amenable not only
to casual viewing but also to syndication, the environment for which
TNG was produced in 1987 and in which it flourished (‘Monster of the
Week’ 2018).10 The stand-alone, watch-in-any-order episode, in other
words, is what allowed Star Trek to build a fanbase and profitability
that far exceeded its original four-year run and eventually permitted
the creation of sequels.
By 1993, the year after TNG aired its time loop episode, Tudor
Oltean felt able to write that ‘[a] series requires a different story
which is concluded in each episode, while the serial is provided with
continuous storylines – normally more than one – that continue each
episode’ (Oltean, 1993, 14). By adding that ‘[s]eries and serial are thus
two different types of series,’ though, Oltean tacitly indicates that the
situation was already more complicated than this implied (14). Like
many other shows, TNG had begun introducing two-part adventures
and allowing character growth to take place across episodes and
seasons. Even in Conan Doyle the ‘pure’ notion of the genuinely
independent episode was doomed: Holmes’ ‘death’ in ‘The Final Problem’
(December 1893) and return in ‘The Empty House’ (October 1903), for

between November 1842 and February 1843, and ‘The Purloined Letter’
in the Gift annual for 1845.
9
For more on the form of the Strand, see Ashley, 2006, 196–97.
10
TNG was produced on the basis of the original series’ success in syndication
(it had not done well on its first run) and was released straight into
syndication rather than being broadcast on a network first (Teitelbaum,
1991).
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 153

instance, necessarily created a metanarrative, and it is hard to get much

out of the latter story if you have not already read the former.11 As the
1990s went on, Star Trek and other science fiction television became
less and less comfortable with the monster of the week: Buffy’s model
of the ‘Big Bad’ allowed discrete adventures to be linked together by a
common adversary – a kind of compromise between series and serial
– but by the end of its run in 2001 even Buffy was telling multipart,
complex stories hard to decipher at the level of the episode. The last
half-season of DS9 (aired in 1999) is effectively a nine-part serial. This
tendency across science fiction television became one of the hallmarks
of the streaming revolution: ‘if there is one thing within the media
that is metamorphosing right before our eyes,’ Veronica Innocenti and
Guglielmo Pescatore noted by 2014, ‘it is surely televized [sic] seriality.’
‘[M]any TV series,’ they wrote, ‘have moved increasingly closer to the
structure of the serial.’ The changes in viewing habits wrought by Netflix
and others have removed the original impetus which drove Conan
Doyle’s innovation, since previous episodes which may be necessary for
understanding the story are all available for streaming at any moment
by anyone with the appropriate subscriptions (Innocenti and Pescatore,
2014, 1). Dickens, we might say, has won the battle: like The Wire, the
majority of science fiction television today is now told in novel-style
serials.
Is it this change that drives the interest in today’s television from
Victorianists? Levine, certainly, mentions the importance of distribution
format for her comparison, albeit somewhat incidentally.12 The point
that I hope I have made here, though, is that if it really is the case
that television has switched to a nineteenth century model of serialized
storytelling, the model it switched from also has its roots in the pages
of Victorian periodicals.

11
Other examples of not-quite-independent Holmes stories: ‘His Last Bow’
(September 1917) contains almost no action and lacks nearly all of its
affective punch without some knowledge of its precursors; ‘The Adventure of
Wisteria Lodge’ (1908) was originally published as a two-part ‘Reminiscence
of Mr. Sherlock Holmes’ separated by a month and the words ‘To be concluded’
(Conan Doyle, 1908, 250). For considerably more on the metanarrative of
Holmes in relation to its series format, see Saler, 2012, 95.
12
‘Just as The Wire appeared first in regular instalments [sic] on television
and then became available on DVDs for purchase or rental, Bleak House
first appeared in nineteen monthly periodical parts, later to be available in
bound volumes that could be bought or borrowed from circulating libraries’
(Levine, 2011).
154 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

***

Although its episodes are difficult (or impossible) to understand out of

sequence, there is an important way in which the serialized Discovery
is not formally akin to Dickens. Bleak House depicts the intersection of
numerous spheres of life and points of view, even alternating between
third and first person in its enunciations of the complex social web that
is London; Discovery, meanwhile, is pared back even by the standards
of Star Trek, largely restricted to the point of view of a single character
rather than maintaining, like its predecessors, focus on an ensemble cast.
Although the temptation to read the show’s idolization of the mycelial
network as a quest for Dickensian interconnectedness is real, Discovery is
ultimately too focused (and its attention to the spore drive too superficial)
for the analogy to be convincing. In terms of pure length, Discovery
is also far less of a ‘sprawl’ either than Dickens or earlier Trek: Bleak
House is 67 chapters in 20 instalments (Miriam Margolyes’ audiobook
is 43 hours 12 minutes) while the 15 episodes of Discovery’s first season
(roughly 11.5 hours) are dwarfed by the first season of TNG (roughly 19.5
hours; typical for a 1980s US television series). Since it is still running,
Discovery always has the potential to get bigger in both senses, but season
two is roughly the same length as season one and, if anything, even
more single-minded in its focus on Burnham. At the time of writing,
it seems fair to describe Discovery as less formally expansive than either
the Holmes or Dickens models, so a third point of comparison with
Victorian periodicity is therefore warranted.
Fortunately, a perfect candidate is available in one of science fiction’s
foundational texts. H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds appeared in
Pearson’s Magazine between April and December 1897 and has exerted a
consistently powerful influence on science fiction writing ever since. As a
serial, it resembles Bleak House in being difficult to read out of sequence,
but is unlike it in following a strictly linear progression – the progression,
in fact, of the Martians from Horsell Common into the center of London,
which can be (and has been) drawn as a dotted line on a map (see Wells,
2017, xxxvii). Though the narration is handed between brothers at some
points, the text is very far from a Dickensian ‘network,’ relying for its
effect on the unitary force of its plot and the subjective experiences of a
very small number of characters. This is reflected not only in a shorter
total length (around 60,000 words; Bleak House is around 350,000) but,
more crucially, in a difference of composition: Wells wrote the entire
novel in advance, paying scrupulous attention to geographical details,
while Dickens composed his instalments as he went along (Parrinder,
1972, 6).
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 155

Wells did dabble in the Holmes-style series model (his Stories of

the Stone Age, for example, appeared in The Idler between May and
November 1897), but the preponderance of his short stories were
stand-alone and all but one of his famous scientific romances of the
1890s were serialized in a similarly predetermined fashion to War of the
Worlds.13 Although Pearson’s published small summaries of the previous
action at the beginning of each instalment (analogous to ‘previously,
on…’ montages common in television, including on Discovery), War of
the Worlds was a text that knew where it was going and that made few
concessions to any reader who could not keep up. Pearson’s clearly saw
this fact as a potential selling point, with one editorial from the middle
of the run reminding audiences that ‘[t]his wonderful serial is becoming
more and more exciting month by month’ (Pearson, 1897, 344A).
This is precisely the feature, however, that is at the root of Katharine
Trendacosta’s difficulty with Discovery:

I watched last week’s episode with a friend who hadn’t seen any
others. And the look on her face when I tried to explain everything
she needed to know was unreal. There are very few episodes which
wouldn’t run into that problem. (2018)

Trendacosta’s observation – that Discovery asks to be watched completely,

attentively, and in order – presents as a ‘problem’ because it stands against
the kind of casual viewing enabled by the monster of the week. What
Pearson’s saw as a virtue – repaying sustained audience attention – has,
for Trendacosta, become a liability: casual attention is impossible.
There is another difficulty, though. Discovery’s episodes are indeci-
pherable if watched out of order, but they are also sometimes abrasive
if watched too closely together. For example, the first words of ‘New
Eden’ (2x02) (‘As a child, I had what my mother called nightmares’) are
a personal log of Spock’s previously heard in the climactic scene of the
previous episode – a quick recap for a viewer returning after a week, but
a jarringly obvious moment of repetition for anybody moving directly
from episode to episode. The clumsiness of this transition, which is
invisibly smooth if the episodes are not watched in immediate succession,

13
The Time Machine first appeared in the New Review (January–May 1895),
The Invisible Man in Pearson’s Weekly (12 June–7 August 1897), and The First
Men in the Moon in the Strand (December 1900–August 1901). The Island of
Doctor Moreau (1896) was never serialized. These, of course, are only the
highlights: Wells’s relationship with the periodical culture of his day was
profound in scale and is documented at book length in Smith 2012.
156 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

introduces us to the final element in my argument. Having discussed

the series and serial in terms of their differences, it is also important
to consider the thing that unites them: the gap between instalments.

***

However discrete or connected, television episodes – up until recently

– have shared one defining feature: the interval. In Oltean’s words,
television series:

make it irresistibly clear that the specific feature of television

experience is not exactly ‘flow’ but ‘flow and regularity’, and should
be regarded in terms of movement and stasis. … The relationship
between movement (direct presentation of events, or enactment)
and stasis (what happens in-between the episodes, interval of
narrative non-belligerance [sic]) forms the fundamental dialectics
of the serial paradigm. (Oltean, 1993, 13)

This is every bit as true for print serials of the nineteenth century as
it is for twentieth century television, as Sean O’Sullivan notes when
comparing the two – he calls this same phenomenon ‘the gap,’ or
‘the between, … the animating energy, the time and space separating
publications that distinguishes serial fiction from every other form’
(O’Sullivan, 2013, para. 14). It is in the gaps, and not the parts, that
Dickens corresponds with readers about the construction of future
numbers; it is between instalments that Holmes readers start having
dinner parties and The Original Series (TOS) Star Trek fans begin writing
fanfiction.14 The suspense generated by these gaps is, as Levine has
herself helped to point out (2003), one of the cornerstones of Victorian
fiction.15 Summing up the whole phenomenon, Innocenti and Pescatore
(2014) write that:

[w]hile the idea of trekkies [sic] once seemed like a folklore

phenomenon, ultimately a little naive and marginal, today we
are well aware that serial products are projected as inhabitable

14
Respectively (and for instance) on these topics, see Dawson, 2016, 761–78
and Saler, 2012, 116–17.
15
For my application of Levine’s ideas around suspense to periodicals, see
Tattersdill, 2016, 86–88.
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 157

environments, in which spectators/users can circulate, gather

information, play and develop affective bonds. (12)

Crucially, the gap is the aspect of seriality that the Netflix revolution
truly dispenses with, and what Discovery strives to preserve.
Since at least the American version of House of Cards (2013–2018), it
has become increasingly normal for new shows to emerge onto streaming
services an entire season at a time, allowing viewers to choose the
pace at which they consume the serial instalments. Some binge-watch,
a technique inherited from the DVD box set (although still with an
analogue in Victorian print culture: buying the book edition after the
serial ends). Others retain a kind of routine – an episode a day, say –
or choose a more irregular pattern of consumption to fit their lifestyle
(as you can with a book edition). Discovery, released on the new CBS
All Access service in the United States and on Netflix in most other
territories, has defied this trend by airing a new episode every week,
just as Roddenberry’s original series had in the 1960s. This is important:
though it feels the epitome of the current mood in terms of its serial
structure and narrative arc, Discovery is actually a little old-fashioned
in cleaving to the ‘movement and stasis’ model shared by all of its Trek
forebears. This exaggerates the independence of the episode as a unit of
storytelling even while other aspects of the new television environment
(not least Netflix’s ‘Skip Credits’ button) conspire to make it less visible.
For people watching the show as it aired, the episode reemerges in
another important way: group conversations about what was going to
happen next were rife online, since everybody was on (or, rather, off)
the same page.
The cultural consequences of this decision are evident in the episode-
by-episode reviews of Discovery on Den of Geek, or the more honestly titled
weekly ‘recaps’ on Vulture – the sense in these pieces is of having to
keep up with (and lead) fan speculation around where the show might
be going.16 Such writings, though, represent only the most visible form
of ‘water-cooler’ discussions that were happening among fans for the
entirety of the run – discussions that on Netflix-model shows are now
limited to developments between seasons. When you think about it, it
is Discovery’s form, simultaneously restricting both the viewpoint and
velocity of its audience, that allows it to have its major plot twists, just
as it is its form that encourages viewers to discuss those twists both
before and after they take place. One particularly good example of this
is the show’s creation of ‘Javid Iqbal,’ the actor credited with playing

16
See, for example, Hunt, 2018; Ortberg, 2018.
158 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Voq in the episodes before it was revealed that Ash Tyler (Shazad Latif)
had been Voq all along. On one level, this shows the real-life deceptions
that the show was willing to perpetuate on its fans in order to keep
them surprised; on another, Latif’s selection of ‘Javid Iqbal’ – his father’s
name – for the alias resulted in a furor of fan theorizing and speculation
and suggests, more than a little, a code meant to be cracked (see Ling,
2017; Britt, 2018). What the show wanted was the conversation.
This returns us to my earlier insistence that episodic structure
meaningfully alters the world of the story. The Voq twist is impossible
in TNG’s format: there is a hint of it in, say, ‘Conundrum’ (5x14), but
such things have to stay contained within individual episodes and our
trust in the status quo can never waver. By DS9, this balance began
to shift, as evidenced by the frighteningly uncertain number of fifth
season (1996–1997) episodes during which Julian Bashir (Alexander
Siddig) was, we later learn, replaced by an alien impostor. The kind of
slow-building tension that ends in Georgiou’s (Michelle Yeoh) return
or Lorca’s (Jason Isaacs) treason, though, goes further by leading the
audience into the expectation of such reversals: the structure creates not
only a more focused space but a more paranoid one, in which viewers
watch every moment for clues and develop a critical eye for discrepancies
(intentional or otherwise) in the narrative, then amplify their affect
by poring over them with other fans in the gaps between episodes. If
Discovery has a ‘darker, more serious tone,’ then, this is one of the reasons
(Liptak, 2018). Its Federation feels bleaker than TNG’s not only because
of superficial details of tone, plot, and characterization, but because of
the relationship with the viewer that its serial structure creates. Form
is itself a world-building technique, and changing the form of this
franchise has changed the world of Star Trek every bit as much as the
transformations in tone, continuity, costume, writing, effects, makeup,
music, and so on.
As well as pointing out the relationship with worldbuilding, my
discussion of form also explains some of the dissatisfaction with which
Discovery was received. It is not just that the new tone is off-putting: it
is also the case that, as O’Sullivan points out regarding Bleak House and
Lost, satisfaction itself is ‘antithetical to the structure and attractions of
seriality as a practice’ (O’Sullivan, 2013, para. 2). In a complete and
isolated novel, like War of the Worlds, the plot travels smoothly towards
an ending: the end of the narrative, the end of the Martian invasion.
In a serial of indefinite length, though, we have ‘flow and regularity’ –
we exist as readers in the rhythm of the publication, with conclusions
continuously deferred into the future and resolution experienced as a
kind of threat. The deliberate positioning of Discovery between these two
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 159

stools – pre-planned enough for time-travel plotlines but open enough

to leave each season on a cliffhanger; hemmed into time and continuity
by its status as a prequel but potentially able to escape them with the
right retconning and plot devices – is understandably frustrating for
the viewer who just wants to watch ‘an episode of something.’ That
Discovery itself feels this frustration is demonstrated, I think, by the
existence of the Short Treks, interstitial stories defined precisely by (1)
their independence from the periodical rhythm of the main series, and
(2) their independence from each other at the level of plot – like TOS
and TNG episodes, they can be watched in any order. No previous Star
Trek series has felt the need to reinsert this older kind of storytelling
between its seasons. By the end of Discovery’s second year, though, half
of the Short Treks have already been retrospectively incorporated into
the main plot (as have the characters and settings of a few early season
two episodes, like ‘New Eden,’ 2x02 and ‘The Sound of Thunder,’ 2x06,
which appeared relatively independent at first glance). ‘Runaway,’ in
particular, is now all but required viewing if the season two finale is
to make sense. Discovery cannot stop looking at the series format, but is
always too interested in a serial relationship with its reader to seriously
commit to it.
Nothing demonstrates this better than watching Discovery’s first season
for the second time: with the gaps between episodes eliminated and
the big twists already known, it is in this moment that we reconcile
all the various hopes and worries that accompanied the drip-feed of
episodes with the complete object created by the finale. Despite some
jarring moments of superfluous recap, the show’s hope and optimism
comes through more strongly when it is experienced in this way – the
removal of suspense is also a removal of the paranoia that is naturally
a product of the show’s hybrid format. In other words: despite the effort
that it puts into surprises and twists, Discovery is a show that desperately
wants rewatching. Its weekly release encourages active discussion and
speculation, an explosion of possibilities; its serial format requires us to
return from these discussions to a unified, organized text, and then to
learn to see it as such.
Formats are not chosen at random, and every show (and the
world it offers) is shaped by the way it asks to be watched. Discovery,
I have suggested here, wants us aware of that process, which is why it
narrativizes it in ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ The tension
between the arc and the episode becomes the tension between Stamets
and the rest of crew: unlike TNG’s characters in ‘Cause and Effect,’ who
are all caught together in the episodic time loop and must realize the
severity of their continually resetting status quo entirely from the inside,
160 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Discovery includes a character who is able to transcend the individual,

half-hour episodes the rest of his crew is trapped in and commend to
them a larger, more worked-through ‘serial’ universe. ‘Don’t you see
what’s happening?’, he shouts. ‘We have been here before … I cannot
be the only person who recognizes this’ (1x07).

***

An incidental second in the same episode has become one of my favorite

moments in Discovery. It happens just under 19 minutes in: Lorca gets
summoned from the bridge, apparently by Culber (Wilson Cruz), and
steps into the turbolift. The instant before his journey is interrupted
is one of the very few in which we see the captain by himself in the
Prime Universe, without the need to dissemble. He does not mustache-
twirl or cackle into the camera – that would ruin the coming surprise
for first-time viewers. Rather, his actions resemble those of a somewhat
beleaguered actor: he draws in his breath, adjusts his stance, gets ready
for the next scene. It is a wonderful glimpse into the private life of
somebody who has been acting every waking minute for the longest
time. If you know what is coming, you can almost hear him bucking
himself up, getting himself ready to spin the next lie, to carry out
the next stage in his Byzantine plan. If you do not know, though, it
is completely invisible, denuded of any of the cues of lighting, camera
angle or music we are habituated to: just a tired guy standing in an
elevator. For some, perhaps, the pause in Discovery’s relentless pace was
long enough to constitute a clue, another in a series of little hints that
would eventually grow into certainties. For the majority of viewers,
though, it is only good the second time you see it. It’s only good if you
have been here before.

Works Cited

Mike Ashley, The Age of the Storytellers: British Popular Fiction Magazines
1880–1950 (London: The British Library, 2006).
Kate Atkinson, Life After Life (London: Doubleday, 2013).
Ryan Britt, ‘“Star Trek: Discovery” Secret Voq Actor Finally Reveals
Everything’, Inverse, 14 January (2018), https://www.inverse.com/
article/40200-shazad-latif-star-trek-discovery-ep-11-voq-tyler-spoilers.
Amy Burge, Representing Difference in the Medieval and Modern Orientalist
Romance (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016).
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 161

Flora Carr, ‘Netflix Is Planning a New Sherlock Holmes Series Called The
Irregulars’, Radio Times, 20 December (2018), https://www.radiotimes.com/
news/on-demand/2018–12–20/netflix-the-irregulars-sherlock-holmes/.
Arthur Conan Doyle, ‘A Reminiscence of Mr. Sherlock Holmes: I. The
Singular Experience of Mr. John Scott Eccles’, Strand Magazine, 35.213
(1908): 242–50.
—— A Study in Scarlet (London: John Murray and Jonathan Cape, 1974).
—— Memories and Adventures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
Gowan Dawson, ‘Dickens, Dinosaurs, and Design’, Victorian Literature and
Culture, 44 (2016): 761–78.
‘“Groundhog Day” Loop’, TV Tropes, https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.
php/Main/GroundhogDayLoop.
James Hunt, ‘Star Trek: Discovery Episode 15 Review: Will You
Take My Hand?’, Den of Geek, 13 February (2018), https://www.
denofgeek.com/uk/tv/star-trek/55277/star-trek-discovery-episode-
15-review-will-you-take-my-hand.
Veronica Innocenti and Guglielmo Pescatore, ‘Changing Series: Narrative
Models and the Role of the Viewer in Contemporary Television Seriality’,
translated by Dom Holdaway, Between, 8.4 (2014): 1–15.
Caroline Levine, Forms: Whole, Rhythm, Hierarchy, Network (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 2015).
—— ‘From Genre to Form: A Response to Jason Mittell on The Wire’,
Electronic Book Review, 1 May (2011), http://electronicbookreview.com/
essay/from-genre-to-form-a-response-to-jason-mittell-on-the-wire/.
—— The Serious Pleasures of Suspense: Victorian Realism and Narrative Doubt
(Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2003).
—— ‘Television for Victorianists’, Romanticism and Victorianism on the Net, 63
(April 2013), https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1025613ar.
Thomas Ling, ‘Shazad Latif Addresses THAT Star Trek Voq Theory:
“I Met Javid Iqbal at a Party”’, Radio Times, 12 November (2017),
https://www.radiotimes.com/news/tv/2017–11–12/star-trek-discovery-
shazad-latif-voq-tyler-fan-theory-javid-iqbal/.
Andrew Liptak, ‘By Going Dark, Star Trek: Discovery Freed Itself to Look
at the Future in a New Way’, The Verge, 4 March (2018), https://www.
theverge.com/2018/3/4/16699294/star-trek-discovery-stargate-universe-
battlestar-galactica-realism-storytelling-television-essay.
Amanda D. Lotz, The Television Will Be Revolutionized, 2nd ed. (New York:
New York University Press, 2014).
Jason Mittell, ‘All in the Game: The Wire, Serial Storytelling, and
Procedural Logic’, Electronic Book Review, 18 March (2011), http://
elec tron icbook rev iew.com/essay/al l-i n-the-game-the-w ire-ser ial-
storytelling-and-procedural-logic/.
‘Monster of the Week’, TV Tropes, https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/
Main/MonsterOfTheWeek.
Michael Z. Newman, ‘From Beats to Arcs: Toward a Poetics of Television
Narrative’, The Velvet Light Trap, 58 (2006): 16–28.
162 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Tudor Oltean, ‘Series and Seriality in Media Culture’, European Journal of

Communication, 8.1 (March 1993): 5–31.
Mallory Ortberg, ‘Star Trek Discovery Season 1 Episode 15 Finale Recap’,
Vulture, 12 February (2018), https://www.vulture.com/2018/02/star-trek-
discovery-season-1-episode-15-finale-recap.html.
Sean O’Sullivan, ‘Serials and Satisfaction’, Romanticism and Victorianism
on the Net, 63 (2013), https://www.erudit.org/en/journals/ravon/2013-
n63-ravon01450/1025614ar/.
Patrick Parrinder (ed.), H.G. Wells: The Critical Heritage (London: Routledge,
1972).
C.A. Pearson, ‘The Editorial Mind’, Pearson’s Magazine, 4.21 (1897): 344A.
Michael Saler, As If: Modern Enchantment and the Literary Prehistory of Virtual
Reality (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012).
David C. Smith. The Journalism of H.G. Wells: An Annotated Bibliography, edited
by Patrick Parrinder (Haren: Equilibris, 2012).
Will Tattersdill, Science, Fiction, and the Fin-de-Siècle Periodical Press (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2016).
Sheldon Teitelbaum, ‘How Gene Roddenberry and His Brain Trust Have
Boldly Taken “Star Trek” Where No TV Series Has Gone Before: Trekking
to the Top’, Los Angeles Times, 5 May (1991), https://www.webcitation.
org/5ybc7Wqbr?url=http://articles.latimes.com/print/1991– 05 – 05/
magazine/tm-2100_1_star-trek.
Katharine Trendacosta, ‘Star Trek: Discovery Wraps Up a Wildly Uneven
First Season with a Wildly Uneven Finale’, io9, 12 February (2018),
https://io9.gizmodo.com/star-trek-discovery-wraps-up-a-wildly-uneven-
first-sea-1822923909.
H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds, edited by Darryl Jones (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2017).

Episodes and Films Cited

‘Conundrum.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Barry Schkolnik,

directed by Les Landau, Paramount Television, 17 February, 1992.
‘Cause and Effect.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Brannon Braga,
directed by Jonathan Frakes, Paramount Television, 21 March, 1992.
‘Coda.’ Star Trek: Voyager, written by Jeri Taylor, directed by Nancy Malone,
Paramount Television, 29 January, 1997.
‘Monday.’ X-Files, directed by Kim Manners, written by Vince Gilligan, John
Shiban, 20th Century Fox Television, 28 February, 1999.
‘Window of Opportunity.’ Stargate SG-1, written by Jopseh Mallozzi and
Paul Mullie, directed by Peter DeLuise, MGM Television, 4 August, 2000.
‘White Tulip.’ Fringe, written by J.H. Whyman and Jeff Vlaming, directed
by Thomas Yatsko, Bad Robot Productions, 15 April, 2010.
 DISCOVERY AND THE FORM OF VICTORIAN PERIODICALS 163

‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by
Aron Eli Coleite and Jesse Alexander, directed by David Barrett, CBS
Television Studios, 29 October, 2017.
‘New Eden.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Vaun Wilmott and Sean Cochran,
directed by Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television Studios, 24 January, 2019.

Groundhog Day. 1993. Directed by Harold Ramis. Columbia Pictures.

 To Boldly Discuss
Socio-Political Discourses in
Star Trek: Discovery Fanfiction
Kerstin-Anja Münderlein

Introduction

When Star Trek first conquered American television in 1966, it boldly

went where no one had gone before and took its ever-growing fanbase
with it. Not only did the show introduce an exceptionally diverse cast,
it actively engaged in socio-political discourses of the day, such as the
age-old question of ethics in science, namely ‘is science allowed to
do everything it can do?,’ which is a pivotal question of the plotline
centering on the genetically modified Khan Noonien Singh.1 Since then,
Star Trek has continued to include contemporary discourses on society,
science and politics in its shows and movies. This development is no
product of chance, as Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry pointed out
in 1991. In an interview with The Humanist, Roddenberry stated that
his ‘intention was to express his philosophy [that humans are able
to take control of their destiny and their future] in Star Trek, but [he
had] to keep this intention secret lest the network pull the plug on
him’ (quoted in Jindra, 1994, 34). From the original series onwards,
Roddenberry’s philosophical convictions (and those of his collaborators
and, eventually, his successors) have been embodied within the socio-
political layout of the utopian future depicted in the franchise. ‘Star Trek’s
social utopianism,’ as Robert V. Kozinets (2001, 71) writes

is metonymically glossed by the IDIC acronym [‘Indefinite Diversity

in Infinite Combinations’]… a Vulcan religious philosophy that
was presented in the original Star Trek series. The egalitarian IDIC

1
This character first appears in the The Original Series episode ‘Space Seed’
(1x22) and is centralized and further explored in Star Trek II: The Wrath of
Khan (1982).

165
166 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

philosophy holds that diversity should be embraced, and not simply

tolerated.

Diversity, unity, and the overcoming of differences still provide some of

the socio-philosophical core aspects of Star Trek and the new addition
to the canon, Star Trek: Discovery (2017–; DSC), is no exception. In this
series, cast and characters were further diversified, the ethics of war and
science take center stage through the Klingon War as do the use of the
controversial spore drive or Terran fascism in the Mirror Universe, to
name only a few examples of the prevalent topics debated in the first
season. DSC thus proves Christian Wenger’s claim (2006, 342) that the
program itself provides ways for further human development and is
understood by fans as a call to action for improving their own lifestyles.
By engaging with the problems negotiated in Star Trek, viewers cannot
escape contemporary socio-political criticism and the more actively they
debate these issues, for example through fan art, the more critically
aware they can become. Wenger (2006, 342) thus contends that Star
Trek is in itself a social utopia that allows for a potentially ideal future
without presenting it uncritically or naïvely; neither do its fans. Star
Trek presents tolerance and idealism but not a future devoid of potential
snares the protagonists need to be aware of and counteract to hold on
to this utopia (2006, 343). In 2018, Star Trek is as political as ever and
cannot be divided from its capacity for socio-political discussion.
Yet, not only the showrunners of Star Trek contribute to these
discourses, the fans do so as well. In engaging with (contemporary)
socio-political issues, Star Trek offers its fans material for self-reflection
as members of a post-traditional community (Wenger, 2006, 343). Their
fan culture has incorporated these discourses and has demonstrated
its active social awareness. DSC’s fans are no exception in providing
material pertaining to or exceeding the ethical and political problems
negotiated in the series. In the canon, DSC seamlessly joins the rank
of its predecessors in questioning power and monoglossia. In the
fanon, contemporary fan writers have done the same and continue
the tradition of political fanfictions in Star Trek, as this paper aims to
show. Through the analysis of DSC-specific fanfictions according to the
socio-political discourses mentioned or discussed in them, this paper
will show that DSC’s fanbase is typical of Star Trek or, more specifically,
Star Trek fans’ active engagement with current debates of critical issues
in ethics, science, politics, and society that mirrors the series’ potential
for criticism itself.
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 167

Star Trek: A Political and Contested Fandom

From its inception, ‘Star Trek fandom seemed akin to some kind of
movement. It certainly was not a political movement, but it had political
aspects. It was something broader than that, more like a religious
movement’ (Jindra, 1994, 30). Jindra’s appraisal of Star Trek fandom
as more than just the passive consumption of content provided by a
production company can certainly not be disputed. Henry Jenkins even
goes so far as to show dissatisfaction with Star Trek’s ‘inability to keep
pace with the political growth of its audiences’ (Jenkins and Tulloch,
1995, 21), thereby claiming that the fans surpassed the canon in their
political activism or awareness. Whether this holds true for DSC remains
to be seen, but my results at least imply that fans match the political
actuality of the series.2
The influence Star Trek fans have had on the formation of fan culture
in the twentieth century and the understanding of fan culture in general
should not be (and is generally not) underestimated. While the study of
fan culture and its products, fan art in all its forms, has been of note since
at least the 1970s with Camille Bacon-Smith’s Enterprising Women, the
fans’ importance for the phenomenon Star Trek has increased. ‘Twenty
years on, fan texts are no longer read as underground publications but as
new, supplementary works in their own right’ (Coker, 2012, 83). Through
their own derivative works, fans dispute and add to the socio-political
discourses of the franchise while at the same time including absent
topics, such as the canon’s failure to show same-sex couples before Star
Trek: Beyond (2016). Generally, ‘by examining fan texts closely, we will
see both exceptional readings and exceptional counter-readings of source
texts as fans actively engage their chosen material with their personal

2
It must also be mentioned that at the start of DSC, self-declared fans of
Star Trek lashed out against several aspects of the new series, such as its
allegedly unnecessarily diverse cast (also described as ‘white genocide,’
quoted in Hibberd, 2017) or its alleged over-abundance in strong female
characters (or, as one user wrote: ‘Is everything going to have females
in every fucking thing?’ quoted in Saadia, 2017). This backlash has been
commented on and strongly rejected by fans and cast members alike.
Jason Isaacs (Lorca) publicly called such untoward comments ‘endless
white isolationist hate-spew’ (quoted in Bradley, 2018) whereas Sonequa
Martin-Green (Burnham) has appealed to the authors of such hate speech
citing the idealism of Star Trek: ‘I would encourage them to key into the
essence and spirit of Star Trek that has made it the legacy it is – and that’s
looking across the way to the person sitting in front of you and realizing
you are the same, that they are not separate from you, and we are all one’
(quoted in Hibberd, 2017).
168 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

politics’ (2012, 83). Despite the growing importance of fandom for the
development of the series, fans were also met with public negativity:

The more successful fans were in broadening the market for the
series, the more marginal they became to its overall reception. What
emerged from this tension was the stereotype of the ‘Trekkie,’3 a
grotesque embodiment of everything that critics feared about mass
culture – blind consumerism, obsessive commitment to the trivial,
a loss of dignity and respect, a retreat from reality into the world
of the ‘boob tube.’ (Jenkins and Tulloch, 1995, 13–14)

The lack of control over fandom and fan works must thus be read in
conjunction with the general fear producers have of fans and agents
beyond consumers. ‘The fans’ transgression of bourgeois taste and
disruption of dominant cultural hierarchies insures that their preferences
are seen as abnormal and threatening by those who have a vested interest
in the maintenance of these standards’ (Jenkins, 2013, 17).
In becoming active participants in a subculture they themselves have
structured, through fan conventions or through a regular exchange in
fanzines, for instance, these fans were more than passive consumers
of a television show. Especially in fanfiction, Star Trek fans inhabit
a pioneering position among fans of television programs. With its
long tradition, Star Trek fandom provides a lot of in-group cultural
memory, which is accessible through fanfiction websites, making them
‘community archives that similarly safeguard the cultural memory of
groups left out of the official archives of culture’ (De Kosnik, 2016,
142). More than 50 years after the first Star Trek fanfiction appeared
in print, the means of publishing fan art have changed dramatically,
especially with the advent of Web 2.0. Since fan culture provides a
broad spectrum of means of active participation and varying degrees of
self-commitment, fans experience different degrees of communization
and identity formation through their subculture (Wenger, 2006, 322);
the internet, however, must be regarded as the global, inter-cultural
and inter-generational ‘meeting place’ of fans today. ‘Fan culture [thus]
muddies … boundaries, treating popular texts as if they merited the same
degree of attention and appreciation as canonical texts’ (Jenkins, 2013,
17). The internet provides fans with a variety of platforms on which to
celebrate their fandom and publish their works, while at the same time

3
As opposed to the self-denomination ‘Trekker,’ which presents a ‘more
affirmative identity’ than the label attached to the fans from the outside
(Jenkins and Tulloch, 1995, 15).
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 169

serving ‘as critically important community archives for female and queer
cultural creativity’ (De Kosnik, 2016, 135). The digital infrastructure
provided by internet fanfiction and fan culture has helped marginalized
voices to be heard and opens up a virtual space for acceptance. DSC
fandom already has these means of communication at its disposal, so
it stands to reason that the fans make use of them.
Despite Judith Fathallah’s caveat (2017, 23) that studying fanfiction
always runs the risk of either over-politicizing the stories under scrutiny
or, conversely, treating them as any other form of literature, thereby
disregarding their special purpose as fanfictions, some scholars regard
the mere existence of fan writing as a political statement:

In a context free from editorial or branding oversight and free from

commercial gain, the meaning making is open to anyone who can
hold a pen, use a keyboard, or post a manuscript. The shift is not
just an aesthetic one, but also political. (Falzone, 2005, 251)

Falzone’s appraisal of fanfiction as free of editorial oversight seems

rather naïve from the perspective of fan studies. While it is true that the
influence of the producers is slight, the meaning-making process is still
regulated through the fanon. Like the canon, the fanon does not exist
in a social vacuum and the intertextual references and dependencies of
fanfiction are not only tied to the canon, but to other fans’ writings as
well. Fanon does not only reproduce canonical elements, it is equally
self-preservative and hence part of a larger fan network influenced by
but different from the canon. In addition, the position of the fan writer
among their personal network has changed in the same degree as the
singularity of fanfiction writers among the people they regularly interact
with (explicitly excluding other fans) has declined. Coppa (2017, 1)
summarises this development:

Fanfiction has become an increasingly mainstream art form, and

fandom itself is moving fast from subculture to culture. More
people than ever participate in some form of organized fan activity
like reading or writing fanfiction … – or if they don’t do these
things themselves, they likely know someone who does. [Thus,
necessarily,] more critics are coming to recognise, then, that
fanfiction should not be hastily generalized as radical. (2017, 26)

In addition, Bertha Chin points out that ‘it is crucial to remember

that fandom is not homogeneous, and one observation of hierarchical
relationships among fans is not representative of the entire fandom’
170 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

(2018, 244). Her analysis shows how the access to different media
discloses the social foundations of fan culture and establishes a hierarchy
among themselves. Fans can show a high degree of ethical and political
awareness, as the Star Trek fandom has shown, but that does not
make them inherently good (as the backlash on DSC illustrates). When
researching fan culture, scholars must therefore be careful not to either
idealize or damn fans as a homogenous group.

Socio-Political Discourses in DSC

From the very first episode of DSC, the series set down its own standard
regarding the depiction of socio-political issues of the twenty-third
century and, especially, the Klingon War. Despite being set in the distant
future, the problems protagonist Michael Burnham and the other crew
members on the U.S.S. Discovery face show a high degree of actuality
in 2017 and beyond. As such, the new series ties in neatly with its
predecessors in depicting global tensions and solutions to overarching
situations of threat, such as the Borg or the Dominion War represented
in the 1990s. Today, issues of cultural and racial purity are as relevant
as ever and in the light of the refugee movements from the Middle East
due to the war in Syria, which has intensified discussions about the
compatibility of different cultures and religions. Therefore, the Klingon
strife for unity through cultural purity rings a bell with audiences. The
rejection of the Other, which Star Trek idealistically presented as resolved
on Earth in The Original Series (TOS), is centralized in DSC. With the
character of Voq/Ash Tyler (Shazad Latif), DSC presents an interesting
take on the sacrifices a fanatic (Voq) is ready to make to achieve his
aim (the unity of all Klingons): he allows himself to be transformed
into a human (Tyler) to infiltrate Starfleet. Racial and cultural purity
thus needs to be overcome temporarily by one character to be achieved
for a whole group. As such, the series questions the desire for cultural
and racial integrity through Voq’s infiltration plan. Besides the Klingon
desire for cultural purity, humanity in the Mirrorverse is also shown as a
fascistic tyranny (the Terran Empire) centered on racial purity. Thus, DSC
does not open up the binary of self and Other through Humans (usually
associated with the Federation) and Klingons with casting one race as
good and the other as bad. Yet, interestingly, the battle that sparks off
the Klingon War is aptly called the ‘Battle at the Binary Stars’ in the
eponymous episode (1x02). While this binary starts the war between
the Federation and the Klingons, the solution of the war is only found
in the collaboration of Starfleet and the Klingon L’Rell (Mary Chieffo)
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 171

in an again aptly titled episode, ‘Will You Take My Hand?’ (1x15).

Throughout the whole series, inter-species (read: inter-cultural) collabo-
ration, introduced with the human-born and Vulcan-raised Burnham,
idealistically provides the only means of solving conflict.
During this struggle for power, the series also manages to include
several crucial ethical discussions through the Discovery’s unique means
of transportation, the spore drive. With the spore drive, the ship is able
to jump anywhere in the blink of an eye and hence holds an advantage
over the rest of the fleet. However, the spore drive only works properly
through the abuse of a sentient being, the tardigrade, which is specifically
kept imprisoned to be experimented on and turned into a biological
weapon (1x04, ‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry’ and
1x05, ‘Choose Your Pain’). To spare the creature more pain, Paul Stamets
(Anthony Rapp) sacrifices his health (initially unbeknownst to himself)
and substitutes for the tardigrade in piloting the spore drive. The usage
of both beings due to the necessity of war is highly questionable and
questioned in the series and picks up on the well-established ethical
question of how far science can and should go.4
When DSC started airing in 2017, it was the first Star Trek series to
show a same-sex couple, Dr. Hugh Culber (Wilson Cruz) and Lieutenant
Paul Stamets, but it was not the first instalment of Star Trek to do so
(in the last reboot film, Sulu has a male partner, but their appearance
is only brief and in passing). With this inclusion of Culber and
Stamets as a couple, sharing rather normative couple dynamics while
living together aboard the ship, DSC catered to the long-standing fan
demand of including LGBTQ representation in the series.5 Beforehand,
as P.J. Falzone (2005, 256) writes,

the corporate caretakers of these characters have proven themselves,

to a broad readership, unwilling to realize the ‘particular style of
the 23rd century’ as one in which queer love is acceptable love.
And so, for close to forty years [as of 2005], an active and activist
readership has been doing it for them through the creation of an
aberrant folklore that they believe adheres more closely to the
spirit of the narrative’s utopian origins. It has fallen upon the fan

4
For an analysis of the spore drive, the mycelial network it relies on, and
Stamets’ connection to both as a rhizome, see Lisa Meinecke’s essay ‘Veins
and Muscles of the Universe: Posthumanism and Connectivity in Star Trek:
Discovery’ in this volume.
5
For more on LGBTQ representation, see the chapter by Sabrina Mittermeier
and Mareike Spychala on ‘“Never Hide Who You Are”: Queer Representation
and Actorvism in Star Trek: Discovery’ in this volume.
172 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

to become creator, the reader to become the author, and the author
to become active in the reuniting of this divided self.

Besides the above-mentioned discourses, DSC’s premise necessarily

includes depictions of the effects of war on individuals. The series
investigates these effects, using individual characters as focalizers. Thus,
it provides discourses of war trauma through the character Tyler, grief
over lost ones through Stamets, responsibility for actions in war through
Burnham, otherness and the difficulties of fitting in through Sylvia Tilly
(Mary Wiseman), ruthlessness and Machiavellianism through Gabriel
Lorca, and eventually the integrity and idealism associated with Starfleet
through the whole crew of the U.S.S. Discovery (especially episodes 1x14,
‘The War Without, the War Within’ and 1x15, ‘Will You Take My
Hand?’). Naturally, a brief summary of the socio-political and ethical
discourses provided by DSC cannot do justice to the depth with which
these (and more) critical issues are presented in the series. Thus, before
continuing with an analysis of the fanfictions on DSC, I would refer to
the other essays in this collection for further reference.

DSC Fanfiction: Methodology

To collate the sample of fanfiction stories published on the internet, I

chose to access the two biggest databases for such writing, fanfiction.net
as well as archiveofourown.com, and then use the pages’ browse by fandom
function. While fanfiction.net only yielded 115 results for the fandom ‘Star
Trek: Discovery’ (as of October 8, 2018), archiveofourown.com6 (AO3 for
short) yielded 1,181 results on the same date. Since the latter database

6
Besides yielding more stories and being the ‘fastest-growing multifandom
archive online [as of 2016]’ (De Kosnik, 2017, 131), AO3 is also preferable
as a database because it is a non-profit fans-for-fans platform that does
not capitalise on the easy marketability of fandom and fanfiction (2017,
132–33). It thus provides a ‘fannish’ infrastructure free from censorship
and content control. In comparison, ‘from the mid-2000s to the mid-2010s,
the for-profit archive FanFiction.net (FF.net) conducted multiple “purges,”
deleting thousands of stories that site moderators decided were too sexually
explicit’ (2017, 132). To counteract the increasing monetization of fandom,
the Organization of Transformative Works was founded by fans for fans as
a non-profit organisation to ‘serve the interests of fans by providing access
to and preserving the history of fanworks and fan culture in its myriad
forms’ (quoted in De Kosnik, 2017, 133). Aca-fan and fanfiction scholar
Francesca Coppa is one of the founders of AO3 (Coppa, 2017, 15).
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 173

has surpassed the former in its popularity, I used the more popular
website and set the filters to ‘Completion Status: Complete Works only’
and ‘Language: English’ to analyze only finished works accessible to the
majority of readers, assuming that English as the international lingua
franca will reach the most readers. From the resulting 965 stories, I
selected 10 percent (96 stories), that is, every tenth story to have a
representative sample.7
Eventually, I arrived at a sample consisting of 418,180 words since
most of the stories (74 stories, equalling 77.1 percent of all stories) did
not exceed a word count of 5,000 words. Splitting the stories up based
on their word count, 28 stories (29.2 percent) counted below 1,000
words, roughly half of the stories (46 stories making up 47.9 percent)
ranged between 1,000 and 4,999 words, 12 stories (12.5 percent) covered
more than 5,000 but fewer than 10,000 words and ten stories (10.4
percent) exceeded the 10,000-word mark. For a fandom this young, the
existence of such long stories points to an active engagement of fans
with the content.
When collating the results, one story out of 96 proved to be
unsuitable for consideration. ‘At the Going Down of the Sun,’ by
LauramourFromOz used the wrong categorization within Star Trek as it
is a The Next Generation (TNG) story. 12 more stories did not provide any
discussion or inclusion of socio-political topics, partly because they were
retellings of DSC scenes, partly because they just did not venture into
any critical discussions. The remaining 82 stories, however, picked up
a plethora of socio-political discourses, ranging from the importance of
home (Radiolaria’s ‘we sleep like wine in the conches’) to vegetarianism
(30MinuteLoop’s ‘The Struggle to Stay Human’) with a strong focus on
the normativity of same-sex relationships (49 percent of stories). In the
following, these topics picked up in the fanfictions will be contextualized
in comparison with the dominant discourses provided by the canon.

7
The 96 stories were written by 79 writers, of which 68 writers only
appeared once in the sample. The remaining 11 writers contributed two
(KrisL, mswyrr, indiegal85, MiaCooper, stellaviatores, Pixie (magnetgirl),
AndYetNotBeingDisenchanted, and White _Noise) or three stories (BlackQat,
llha) to the sample with one writer, TFALokiwriter, contributing six stories
in total.
174 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Socio-Political Discourses in DSC Fanfiction

The overall assessment of the socio-political relevance of the stories yields

rather positive results. Only 12.5 percent of stories do not contribute any
such discourses, whereas more than double that number (25 stories, 26
percent) reference at least two or more ethical or socio-political issues.
Mainly, these issues derive from the discourses provided by the series
itself, yet they also transcend the canon and include contemporary
criticism not related to Star Trek. The stories that can only be summarized
as ‘other’ or ‘miscellanea’ account for 37.5 percent (36 stories) of the
sample.8 One such example, and the only one to touch upon this specific
topic, would be criticism of entertainment electronics in ‘Streaks,’ a brief
and playful story about Paul replicating an iPhone and sending nudes
to Hugh. Here, the criticism is very subtle: ‘Once everything was in
working order [on the iPhone] he decided it was time to play around
with some of the apps that took up so much of the time from people
of those days’ (holloway88).9
Another story, again the only one mentioning this specific problem,
narrating the fictional courtship of Hugh and Paul, ‘in hues of liquid
caramel and oxidized soda,’ provides criticism of the (American)
university system through showing the financial problems Starfleet
cadets (in this case Hugh) might face:

Most cadets in the medical track don’t do their mandatory

internships while attempting to complete Starfleet’s highly
demanding curriculum, but then again most cadets don’t come
from small mining colonies in the Dolara system where every day
with food on the table is seen as a gift. (apollothyme)

Besides highlighting the workload necessary for poor students to keep

up, the story implies a classist criticism of Starfleet by noting that only
few cadets come from poor regions. Both stories, centered on Paul and
Hugh, exceed the limits given by DSC in either setting the story in the
characters’ free (thus off-screen) time or in the past to allow for narrative
freedom. Still, the freedom these writers create is not apolitical and the
characters encounter problems different from those seen in the series.
Aside from these diverse stories, there are three clearly identifiable

8
These categories are not mutually exclusive, that is, these 37.5 percent of
stories can also present several topics.
9
Since none of the stories provides any page numbers, all stories are quoted
only referencing the author.
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 175

trends, namely stories about same-sex relationships, stories about war

and trauma, and stories about ethics and idealism. The majority of these
follow the socio-political discourses opened up in the canon, but employ
very different narrative means of negotiating their criticism.

Same-Sex Relationships

Given Star Trek’s history of slash fanfiction, it is hardly surprising to

find that same-sex relationships comprise the single most often used
socio-political discourse in the sample. Of all stories, 49 percent (47
stories) either feature same-sex couples in crucial roles or significantly
allude to them. Specifically, the normativity of a same-sex relationship
deriving directly from the canon was eagerly taken up in DSC fanfiction.
Thus, the heretofore dominant reading of slash as a ‘rebellion and
utopian rewriting’ (Falzone, 2005, 250) must be revalued in the light
of this significant alteration of the canon. If slash were only regarded
as rebellion against the absence of same-sex relationships in the canon,
DSC fanfiction should provide significantly less slash because the desire
for representation has already been fulfilled by the series itself. The
opposite, however, holds true.
Consequently, slash fiction needs to be reappraised. Even though
slash has been associated with rebellion and writing against the grain,
this can no longer apply for a series with a same-sex couple in its main
personnel. Besides this inclusion of a gay couple into the canon, the
constant use of slash in Star Trek fanfiction has also already undergone
a genre formation process. Slash stories are no longer only forms of
political rebellion, they are also an integral part of the fanon and must
be regarded as a generic element of Star Trek fanfiction as a whole. As
such, they do not only react to the content’s failure to provide same-sex
couples, but they reference the genre itself in adding to the already vast
amount of slash fictions written by previous generations of fanfiction
writers. At the time of writing, denoting all slash fiction as rebellious is
thus too limited and disregards the mechanisms of genre formation in
literature as well as the social structures within fandom that establish
the fanon and thus codify certain pairings before others. In the light
of this history of slash, the overwhelming presence of slash stories
presenting normative relationships rather points to a desire for writing
a meaningful relationship devoid of discriminations targeting sexuality
or gender instead of a form of rebellion. It is highly conspicuous in my
sample to see that the stories thematizing same-sex relationships (not
only the canonical Paul/Hugh stories) foreground love and relationship
176 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

issues beside pornographic stories centering on sex scenes, so-called

‘smut’ stories. In addition, the characters in such stories are generally
equalized in their relationship with neither character usually occupying
a subordinate role.
Since the number of stories about same-sex relationships is so high,
the following story shall serve as an illustration of how normative and
caring such a relationship is generally presented in the sample. As
such, these stories do not veer from the canonical representation of
Hugh and Paul’s relationship, thereby illustrating the aforementioned
decreased necessity for slash as rebellion against the canon. On the
contrary, the canon is eagerly taken up to narrate stories of an idealized
and equal love. In ‘I’ve Got You,’ the Discovery crew rescue Paul’s niece
Jeanie (an original character) after Klingons attack her home and kill
her parents. When talking to the crew members, Jeanie’s position on
who her uncle/s is/are makes her a spokesperson for the normativity of
same-sex relationships in implied comparisons to heterosexual couples:

‘You’re Lieutenant Stamets’ niece right?’ Jeanie nodded. ‘Uncle

Hugh’s niece too.’ ‘Of course.’ Detmer said … ‘The shuttle docked
and they told us all to get off. Someone said ‘Welcome to Discovery’
and I looked around and saw Uncle Hugh.’ ‘That would be Doctor
Hugh Culber, who’s your Uncle Paul Stamets’ partner.’ ‘Uncle Hugh
is my uncle too,’ Jeanie said firmly. (tptigger)

Through repeating Jeanie’s statement about Hugh in two parts of the

narrative, her point is strengthened. The crew’s easy acceptance of
her assertion, however, clashes with the clarifications they initially
attempt in stressing the blood relation between Jeanie and Paul. Yet,
through this accentuation of the girl’s understanding of Paul and
Hugh’s relationship versus the crew’s enquiry about blood status, the
story does not devalue the normativity of same-sex results but instead
highlights how normatively Paul and Hugh’s relationship should be
regarded. Thereby, the story follows the canon in showing their life
together as perfectly ordinary (disregarding their extraordinary jobs for
the moment). Generally, the stories in the sample handle Paul and Hugh
in this way and there is no story that questions their relationship other
than by showing minor jealousies of former partners or the other’s work
taking up more room.
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 177

War and Trauma

Apart from the stories on normativity in same-sex relationships, stories

about war and trauma make up a considerable part of the sample, namely
20.8 percent (20 stories). They range from passive suffering through
torture to questions of personal responsibility and the difficulties of
coming to terms with one’s own wartime actions. The characters in
these stories vary greatly and the dilemmas they are faced with usually
derive directly from the series. While Burnham and Cornwell have to
work through the decisions they had to take in war, Tyler is always
presented as a victim of war and torture.
In ‘A Prison of Her Own Design,’ Burnham struggles with her guilt
about starting the war and losing Georgiou. As the title indicates, the
prison she creates out of her own guilt locks her in more thoroughly
than the Federation prison and she apparently desires harsher treatment,
which her foster-home planet would offer:

In a Vulcan prison facility, she would be let alone to meditate on

her failure, fed gruel and denied daylight. Solitary confinement is
deemed inhumane by joint Federation standards, but still common
on Vulcan. … Since the system does not do it for her, she denies
herself as much as she can. (strangeallure)

By using Burnham as the focalizer in this story, the reader shares in

her perceived guilt but at the same time pities her for the magnitude of
her guilt since she begins to have hallucinations of Captain Georgiou in
her cell. Burnham is thus torn between loss and guilt.
Besides Burnham, Admiral Cornwell’s wartime experiences occur
in some of the stories. ‘The Morning after the Night Before’ and
‘Whatever fate the stars are weaving’ counterpoint her deliberation
on the necessity of decisions made in war. While the first story shows
her struggle for integrity, the second one focuses more on her regret
at having had to take such actions, as the following comparison
shows:

Our peace-oriented leadership needs to come to grips with this, she thinks.
The Klingon people do not care about our sense of morals or outrage. They
don’t care about lives that are not Klingon. Then, almost despairingly:
What do we do against such an enemy? Do we compromise our values?
(BlackQat; original emphasis)
178 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Apart from the anti-Klingon and rather racist thoughts in the first
sentence, Cornwell’s dilemma here is caused by the enemy, the Klingons.
By asking what to do against such an enemy, Cornwell in this story
shares her own responsibility or guilt by claiming that she is forced to
abandon her values because of the enemy. ‘Whatever fate’ tackles this
responsibility very differently:

There are things she has done, things that have been done to her
that she will never forget. Her thoughts unwillingly go to Qo’noS
again. She still can’t believe she and the rest of the Federation
Council sanctioned the destruction of a whole planet. It goes
against everything she’s been taught and believes in and yet she
had still given the order because she’d been so desperate for peace.
(Ailendolin)

Here, Cornwell is ashamed of her decisions but freely admits to the

responsibility. The degree of insight into the character in both stories
is similar, but the inferences the respective writers draw from the same
canonical figure differ. This is ever more apparent with the fannish
reimaginations of Ash Tyler.
In fanfiction, Tyler is one of the more difficult figures to analyze since
he was revealed to be a Klingon (1x10, ‘Despite Yourself’) and more
specifically the fanatic Voq (1x11, ‘The Wolf Inside’) only late in season
one when some of the fanfiction had already been written. One story,
‘Duty,’ written before the revelation, claims that there has been a fan
theory about Tyler/Voq and uses this for its premise. In this story, Voq is
presented as an agent who has to sacrifice himself to achieve his aims.
He is prepared to suffer for honor and a place in the Klingon society:

Perhaps this is his punishment for letting his lord die. He tells
himself his reward will be the unification of the Klingon empire,
and he will earn forgiveness and a place of honor on the black fleet
by making T’Kuvma’s vision a reality. … His sacrifice will mean
nothing if it does not win for the Klingon empire the Discovery,
and the only way to do that as a solitary spy is by ingratiating
himself with the members of the crew, and winning their trust.
(darthpumpkinspice)

As the focalizer of the story, Voq shares his repulsion with the reader,
specifically when his sexual contact with Burnham is described as more
than a sacrifice:
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 179

Tyler feels warm, wet, human tightness around him, and the reality
of this situation hits him – he’s inside the woman who killed
T’Kuvma. He hopes she interprets his grunt of disgust as one of
arousal. This is an act of duty, he reminds himself. … He endures
this for his lord and his empire, as he would endure any torture.
(darthpumpkinspice)

The explicit use of ‘torture’ here highlights the desperate measures

Voq, the cultural fanatic, is prepared to take, but it also shows that
both sides of the war are prepared to do what they have to, yet also
that both sides suffer from it. As such, this story provides much scope
for an analysis of the Klingon antagonists, which is mostly absent in
the sample. The other stories about Tyler focus on his trauma endured
during his captivity on the Klingon ship, which must be read as real
trauma since Voq’s mind was hidden beneath Tyler’s (1x12).
Two very exact representations of PTSD are given in relation to
Tyler in the sample stories. In ‘i have loved the stars too fondly (to
be fearful of the night),’ Burnham informs Tilly very matter-of-factly
about what Tyler is going through: ‘Ash has been experiencing vivid
flashbacks with concurrent somnambulism for the past two weeks. The
symptoms began after he met one of the Klingons who tortured him
aboard the Ship of the Dead’ (mswyrr). The description of PTSD serves
to explain Tyler’s behavior to Tilly but, by having Burnham explain
it, it denies Tyler the chance to voice it himself. Similar to this story,
‘Vulnerability,’ besides its very apt title, fails to openly name PTSD,
yet highlights Tyler’s suffering at the hands of L’Rell in his own words
when he experiences a flashback while being intimate with Burnham:
‘“I don’t like … being on my back,” he admits finally. “I … In … When
I was a Klingon POW…”’ (lorenzobane).
While ‘Vulnerability’ goes slightly further in giving Tyler a voice, the
representation of PTSD is still rather indirect and tied to the character’s
reaction without providing a direct reference by himself. Even though
more stories about Tyler’s PTSD fail to express his trauma in his own
words, one story openly addresses it. In ‘Nothing is Stopping You Except
What’s Inside, I can Help you but it’s your Fight,’ Tyler himself admits
that he has flashbacks: ‘I keep going back to the Klingon ship, to what
they did to me, what L’Rell did and made me do’ (Archaeodigit_dima).
Moreover, his emotional reactions to these flashbacks are narrated,
gaining immediacy by showing them from a first-person perspective:

I had waited till L’Rell had fallen asleep and then gotten dressed. I hated
what she had done and I hated myself for allowing her. Bile rose into my
180 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

throat as I thought of it and I had to force my mind away. (Archaeodigit_

dima; original emphasis)

It is apparent that Tyler suffers from his experiences, but his agency in
depicting his trauma is not taken away and he remains in possession
of the narrative sovereignty of his own story. As with Burnham and
Cornwell, the stories’ presentation of the characters’ inner life varies
significantly and even though the same topics are negotiated, their
overall presentation and thus evaluation differs.

Ethics and Idealism

Another important cluster of stories outlining the effects of ethics and

idealism, especially regarding the ethics of science and the idealism of
Starfleet, forms a significant percentage of the sample (14.6 percent; 14
stories). The closeness of this discourse with that of war is apparent in
‘Falling Tides,’ the story that also provides the most convincing statement
about war, integrity, and responsibility. In this story about the budding
romance between Joann Owosekun and Keyla Detmer, Joann contem-
plates the effects of the war from the perspective of a junior officer who
has to negotiate her ideals with the orders she received:

‘What happened... what we did... this was my second Starfleet

posting, and I spent it serving under a murderer. And now... the
war is over... and Lorca is gone... and it’s just... us. What’s left.
And what’s left is…’ She stares down at her hands. ‘People who
did what we did. People who lost what we lost. What’s left...
it’s everything Lorca and the war and the other universe just...
left behind. And now they’re all gone and... and what? What do
we do? Who are we, now that we’re not fighting or surviving or
disguised or escaping or, or complicit in what they were doing?
What happens now?’ (m_class)

By showing Joann’s insecurity about how to process her wartime

experiences and contrasting them with her Federation ideals, m_class’
story forms a unique contribution to the sample in that it gives a voice to
the show’s minor characters. In so doing, it highlights the fundamental
influence of the war on everybody affected, not just the central
characters. War and its necessities, hence, are discussed profoundly,
especially regarding personal responsibility: ‘I’m just one more junior
officer who was almost complicit in an atrocity’ (m_class). In addition,
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 181

Joann debates the righteousness of following orders, thereby refusing to

accept some of the responsibility: ‘But Lorca got away with what he did
because he was in command. He was our captain, and we had sworn
an oath when we joined the service to follow orders’ (m_class). Joann
is torn between her guilt about the atrocities she nearly participated in
and her desire to share the blame by referring to Starfleet’s hierarchy,
which apparently demands obedience. It is not specifically her idealism
that is being tested, but Starfleet’s mission of idealized utopia that has
been found wanting throughout the war.
This criticism of Starfleet is made even clearer in ‘Rise in Perfect
Light’ through the character Saru, who struggles with the predicaments
of his job:

As acting captain, I gave orders that I knew would cause direct

harm to a sentient being, the only known member of its species. I
am a first contact specialist. I should have been the one advocating
for the tardigrade, not the one denying its most basic rights. But
as the captain, I had to give those orders if any of us were to live.
How can any captain make these choices so often? (HopefulNebula)

Saru’s deliberations combine the ethics of command and science while

adhering to the dictum of prioritizing the needs of the many over the
needs of the few, which in itself is a very utilitarian ideology. Apparently,
Saru did what he thought was demanded of him, but feels uncomfortable
with his choice. Regardless of Saru’s idealism or ethics, he has to give in
to utilitarianism to fight the war and prevent more damage. Ethics and
idealism thus take a subordinate role to necessity, thereby questioning
the standards of Starfleet in general.
In the tradition of Star Trek, the stories centering on ethical deliber-
ations and the questioning of the characters’ (and, by extension, the
reader’s) convictions, tend to negotiate between what is necessary and
what is (ethically or morally) right. The stories here tie this criticism
to canonical characters and show them either in situations of doubt or
in the aftermath of the war. As in the other two categories examined,
ethics and idealism form a core value of Starfleet, and fanfiction’s critical
evaluation thereof is not surprising. The overall quality of the stories
under scrutiny is high and the negotiation of socio-political discourses
is generally very well done regarding content and narratology.
182 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Conclusion and Further Research

The results of this 10 percent study on DSC fanfiction on AO3 show that
DSC fans follow their fannish predecessors in the franchise in actively
engaging with the series’ socio-political criticism. Certainly, not all stories
provide such a discussion and some only copy canonical discourses,
yet the majority of stories negotiates such fundamentally important
discourses as ethical behavior in science and war, trauma, racial purity,
or, specifically in Star Trek, same-sex relationships. The overall sample
shows much awareness of the problems the characters of the series face,
such as identity crises after the war, or questions of personal responsi-
bility. Besides taking up the problems presented in DSC, some stories also
offer contemporary criticism or combine both. Despite the broad variety
of results this study yielded, it can only offer a glimpse into the whole
fandom, especially because the number of online platforms on which
fan engagement takes place has risen considerably. The interaction of
fans on Tumblr or Twitter, as opposed to AO3, is more direct, but must
be examined with different methods than the literary approach used
here. However, because of the importance of such media platforms and
the direct communication thus established between producers and fans,
further research in this area is necessary to arrive at a more compre-
hensive view on the DSC fandom. For the moment, the first year of DSC
fanfictions allows the conclusion that although fans are not going where
no one has gone before, they continue to venture boldly into the space
opened up by fans more than 50 years ago.

Works Cited

Camille Bacon-Smith, Enterprising Women: Television Fandom and the Creation

of Popular Myth (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992).
Bill Bradley, ‘Jason Isaacs Says Racist “Star Trek” Haters “Can Go F**k”
Themselves’, Huffington Post, 8 October (2017), huffingtonpost.com/entry/
jason-isaacs-says-racist-star-trek-haters-can-go-fck-themselves_us_59d9bb
e0e4b0f6eed350ce3b?guccounter=1.
Bertha Chin, ‘It’s About Who You Know: Social Capital, Hierarchies and
Fandom’, in Paul Booth (ed.) A Companion to Media Fandom (Hoboken, NJ:
Wiley & Sons, 2018): 243–55.
Catherine Coker, ‘The Angry! Textual! Poacher! Is Angry! Fan Works as
Political Statements’, in Katherine Larsen and Lynn Zubernis (eds.)
Fan Culture: Theory/Practice (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars,
2012): 81–96.
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 183

Francesca Coppa, The Fanfiction Reader: Folk Tales for the Digital Age (Ann
Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2017).
Abigail De Kosnik, ‘Memory, Archive, and History in Political Science
Fiction’, in Jonathan Gray, Cornel Sandvoss, and C. Lee Harrington (eds.)
Fandom. Identities and Communities in a Mediated World, 2nd ed. (New York
and London: New York University Press, 2017): 270–84.
—— Rogue Archives: Digital Cultural Memory and Media Fandom (Cambridge,
MA: MIT Press, 2016).
P.J. Falzone, ‘The Final Frontier is Queer. Aberrancy, Archetype and
Audience Generated Folklore in K/S Slashfiction’, Western Folklore, 64.3/4
(2005): 243–61.
Judith May Fathallah, Fanfiction and the Author: How Fanfic Changes Popular
Cultural Texts (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017).
James Hibberd, ‘Star Trek: Discovery Star Replies to Show’s Racist
Critics’, Entertainment Weekly, 22 June (2017), ew.com/tv/2017/06/22/
star-trek-discovery-diversity/.
Henry Jenkins, Textual Poachers: Television Fans and Participatory Culture.
Updated Twentieth Anniversary Edition (London and New York: Routledge,
2013).
Henry Jenkins and John Tulloch, ‘Beyond the Star Trek Phenomenon:
Reconceptualizing the Science Fiction Audience’, in Henry Jenkins and
John Tulloch (eds.) Science Fiction Audiences: Watching Star Trek and Doctor
Who (London and New York: Routledge, 1995): 3–24.
Michael Jindra, ‘Star Trek Fandom as a Religious Phenomenon’, Sociology of
Religion, 55.1 (1994): 27–51.
Robert V. Kozinets, ‘Utopian Enterprise: Articulating the Meanings of
Star Trek’s Culture of Consumption’, Journal of Consumer Research, 28.1
(2001): 67–88.
Manu Saadia, ‘For Alt-Right Trolls, “Star Trek: Discovery” Is an Unsafe Space’,
The New Yorker, 26 May (2017), newyorker.com/tech/annals-of-technology/
for-alt-right-trolls-star-trek-discovery-is-an-unsafe-space.
Christian Wenger, Jenseits der Sterne: Gemeinschaft und Identität in Fankulturen.
Zur Konstitution des Star Trek-Fandoms (Bielefeld: transcript Verlag, 2006).

Fanfictions Cited

30MinuteLoop, ‘The Struggle to Stay Human’, AO3, 2 February (2018),

archiveofourown.org/works/13487700.
Ailendolin, ‘Whatever fate the stars are weaving’, AO3, 25 February (2018),
archiveofourown.org/works/13797006/chapters/31718475.
Apollothyme, ‘in hues of liquid caramel and oxidized soda’, AO3, 31 October
(2017), archiveofourown.org/works/12577376.
Archaeodigit_dima, ‘Nothing is Stopping you Except What’s Inside, I can
Help you but it’s your Fight’, AO3, 21 December (2017), archiveofourown.
org/works/13085625/chapters/29935446.
184 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

BlackQat, ‘The Morning After the Night Before’, AO3, 25 April (2018),
archiveofourown.org/works/14436096/chapters/33343026.
Darthpumpkinspice, ‘Duty’, AO3, 19 October (2017), archiveofourown.org/
works/12408957.
Holloway88, ‘Streaks’, AO3, 24 November (2017), https://archiveofourown.
org/works/12809598.
HopefulNebula, ‘Rise in Perfect Light’, AO3, 3 February (2018), archiveo-
fourown.org/works/13563705.
LauramourFromOz, ‘At the Going Down of The Sun’, AO3, 11 November
(2017), archiveofourown.org/works/12690399.
Lorenzobane, ‘Vulnerability’, AO3, 7 November (2017), archiveofourown.
org/works/12658062.
M_class, ‘Falling Tides’, AO3, 23 August (2018), archiveofourown.org/
works/15775800.
Mswyrr, ‘i have loved the stars too fondly (to be fearful of the night),’
AO3, 27 November (2017), archiveofourown.org/works/12843207/
chapters/29326380.
Radiolaria, ‘we sleep like wine in the conches’, AO3, 3 April (2018), archiveo-
fourown.org/works/14199567.
Strangeallure, ‘A Prison of Her Own Design’, AO3, 2 March (2018), archiveo-
fourown.org/works/13848060.
Tptigger, ‘I’ve Got You’, AO3, 25 May (2018), archiveofourown.org/
works/14749410/chapters/34102077.

Episodes and Films Cited

‘Space Seed.’ Star Trek: The Original Series, written by Gene L. Coon and
Carey Wilber, directed by Marc Daniels, NBC, 16 February, 1967.
‘Battle at the Binary Stars.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg,
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Adam Kane, CBS Television Studios,
24  September, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 8 October, 2017.
‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Lee Rose, CBS Television Studios,
15 October, 2017.
‘Despite Yourself.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Sean Cochran, directed by
Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television Studios, 7 January, 2018.
‘The Wolf Inside.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa Randolph, directed by
T.J. Scott, CBS Television Studios, 14 January, 2018.
‘Vaulting Ambition.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordon Nardino, directed
by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios, 21 January, 2018.
 DISCOURSES IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY FANFICTION 185

‘The War Without, The War Within.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa
Randolph, directed by David Solomon, CBS Television Studios, 4 February,
2018.
‘Will You Take My Hand?’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Akiva Goldsmith
(story), Gretchen J. Berg, and Aaron Harberts (story and teleplay), directed
by Akiva Goldsmith, CBS Television Studios, 11 February, 2018.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. 1982. Directed by Nicholas Meyer. Paramount
Pictures.
Star Trek: Beyond. 2016. Directed by Justin Lin. Paramount Pictures.
 ‘Infinite Diversity in Infinite
Combinations?’ – Negotiating
Otherness in Star Trek: Discovery
Afrofuturism, Imperialism,
and Intersectionality
 Interview with Dr. Diana A. Mafe on
‘Normalizing Black Women as Heroes’

Dr. Diana A. Mafe is Associate Professor of English, Black Studies, International

Studies, and Women’s and Gender Studies at Denison University and the author
of Where No Black Woman Has Gone Before – Subversive Portrayals in
Speculative Film and TV (University of Texas Press, 2018) and Mixed Race
Stereotypes in South African and American Literature: Coloring Outside
the (Black and White) Lines (Palgrave Macmillan, 2013).

This interview has been edited for clarity.

In an essay for Media Diversified you have written that ‘Discovery

normalizes a black female hero in space. Evading the extremes
of paragon and pariah, the show gives us a nuanced figure and
places her at the very center of the story’ (2018a, n.p.). Can you
go into a bit more detail for us as to how Burnham (Sonequa
Martin-Green) transcends both the other black women within
the Star Trek franchise (both the new and original) Lieutenant
Uhura (Nichelle Nichols) and Guinan (Whoopi Goldberg)?

I think the obvious answer to that is that she is the protagonist. That’s
what really sets her apart from characters that have come before. Uhura
is the pioneering black female figure in Star Trek, and there are many
ways – which I talk about in my book – that she deserves to be called a
pioneer because she was breaking all kinds of barriers in the 1960s, but
on the show, she still had a very limited role: she was certainly part of
the main cast, but never the central figure. And there are different ways
in which she was sexualized, exoticized. In interviews that she [actress
Nichelle Nichols] gave later, she talked about her own frustration with
not being able to really tap into potential for that role; for instance,
her lines were being cut, so there were limits. In that way, she was
a product of her time. And then you look at a character like Guinan

191
192 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

and, again, she was in some ways even more of a minor character than
Uhura, because she was not in every episode, she was the bartender; she
was wise, she gave advice. Sometimes they would include her in more
elaborate storylines, but she, too, was certainly not an essential player.
So, speaking from both a post-colonial and a critical race perspective,
it is important to try and put Other people at the center of the story,
the center of a history, and that is what Burnham does. She is our
protagonist; she is the character we follow from the beginning to the
end. That’s amazing, and it’s pioneering, and it has never been done
before. And it’s very cool.
And to say one last thing to this: the notion of normalizing the
black female hero, the point of it is not to make this perfect person, this
paragon who does everything right. The fact that she’s the hero doesn’t
mean she’s always the proverbial ‘good guy’ – the point is just to have
her at the center, regardless of what she does. Whether she’s a tragic
hero, whether she does or doesn’t do the right thing, the point is that
she gets to have her story. And that it’s the main story.

To add to that, there were people online complaining that she was
a ‘Mary Sue’ and that she is the one who solves all the problems
and who can do everything, but she mutinies in the second
episode. And Burnham has this network of other characters –
and specifically other female characters – that allow her to do
some of the things that she does. And some of that criticism was
underpinned by racism or people not being able to deal with a
central female character and trying to find some way of criticizing
her that’s not just saying ‘I don’t like a female character.’

That’s really interesting. And I agree. The notion of a ‘Mary Sue’ is that
she’s some sort of cookie-cutter character who does everything and fixes
everything. But that’s not Burnham. She’s much more complex than
that. She rebels against her captain at the very beginning of the story;
she’s a mutineer and commits treason. She certainly pushes against
any easy readings of her as this perfect, good, character who is always
doing the right thing.

When writing about Doctor Who (1963–1989; 2005–ongoing) and

Firefly (2002–2003), you point out that characters like Martha
Jones (Freema Ageyman) and Zoë Washburne (Gina Torres)
‘frame a[n] … intervention in what is otherwise a grand narrative
of male mastery and control’ as the male protagonists on these
shows ‘… themselves present patriarchy and leave little room for
 ‘NORMALIZING BLACK WOMEN AS HEROES’ 193

alternatives’ (2018b, 17). Is there a similar effect with Burnham

and Discovery, particularly in regard to Gabriel Lorca (Jason
Isaacs)?

Yes. Absolutely, and probably, in some ways even more so than

characters like Martha Jones and Zoë Washburne. To get a reading of
those two characters as empowered and subversive and central, I had to
acknowledge and work with the fact that they were secondary, always
secondary. They were sidekicks (for lack of a better word), companions,
so it was always obvious that they were not at the very center. So that
makes it even harder to read them as important and crucial in their
own right. My reading of it is that you have to look for the subtle
empowerments in those shows, and you have to shift the gaze a bit to
see what they are doing that makes them important, that makes them
heroes in their own right. That’s a little bit more work to do. That’s
this intervention in a grand narrative of male mastery and control.
With Discovery, it’s easier because she [Burnham] is the hero. So, you
don’t have to do this shift, where you start out by saying, ‘she’s not the
center, but I’m going to make her the center.’ Here, we can say ‘she is
the center.’ And Lorca, despite carrying the title of captain, is clearly
not the main character. He’s certainly interesting, and you get the sense
at different points in the show that he is trying to control her, pull her
strings, manipulate her. But she is very much the core. And so, even
more so than shows like Doctor Who or Firefly, she talks back against a
history of television in which white men tend to be the captain and
the hero – and if there are black women included, they tend to be the
sidekick and the marginalized figure. So, [Discovery] is really inverting
that in a way that I think is very rare, and I can’t think of a whole
lot examples where you can see that in television. That’s very unusual.
And people may have wondered, why not just make Burnham the
captain, why not have a show with the black woman as the captain, why
not start there. But the way it is made it more interesting – having her
as the captain would have made it easy, more formulaic. This way, she
gets to perform this range of roles, including rebel, and mutineer, and
it does not have to be this obvious idea of her being the black woman,
her being the hero, so she must be the captain – they wrote a much
more interesting role for her in this show. The key is not so much the
title she has, as the roles she gets to play.

How do you view Burnham’s relationship to Spock (Ethan Peck)

as his step-sister? Does it simply legitimize her within Star Trek
canon or do you see the fact that she was raised by the white
194 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Vulcan Sarek (James Frain) and white human Amanda Grayson

(Mia Kirshner) (and the consequential absence of her black birth
parents)1 as problematic/potentially reinforcing stereotypes?

I think, on the one hand, it’s true that you don’t get to see her history
within her own family unit. So, if you want to talk about giving credit
for the kind of person she becomes, that she’s brilliant, that she can
fight, and that she’s technically gifted, we can credit all of this to her
growing up Vulcan, and to Sarek. And that he had a strong hand
in raising her and turning her into the person that she was. I don’t
know that it necessarily undermines her character, that it reinforces
stereotypes. You do get a sense that she had a birth family that she
loved and that were massacred by the Klingons, so there is enough of
a narrative there that you get a sense of where she really came from,
as well as her adoptive experience. For me, I think, the real sense of
that was to connect her to the world of Spock, to the Star Trek universe,
the Star Trek lore. That was just another way for them to ground
the character in the canon, by making her that close to a canonical
character. So maybe it’s a bit of a gimmick, ‘oh, she’s Spock’s sister,’
but it worked for me. I don’t think it contributed too much to stereo-
typing, it was more in the service of the Star Trek narrative. Part of it
is to lay out this struggle she has between the logic of being a Vulcan,
or being raised like a Vulcan, and the fact that she’s still human and
has human emotion that she is grappling with. And that provides a
nice counterpoint to Voq/Ash (Shazad Latif) – they both have this dual
nature in themselves.

From a feminist point of view, how do you see Burnham’s

relationship to other female characters like Georgiou (Michelle
Yeoh), Tilly (Mary Wiseman), and L’Rell (Mary Chieffo)?

To start with Georgiou, since she’s her captain, that’s the woman we
first see – when the trailer was released, that first shot of the two
women of color in the desert triggered all kinds of backlash before the
show had even aired. I think the show is being careful not to isolate
Burnham, as a feminist character, a feminist icon. She gets to foster
interesting relationships with the other women in the show. I think it
would be different if she was always on her own, doing her own thing

1
This interview was conducted before season two of Discovery aired and
Michael Burnham’s mother gets a more prominent role – this does however
not affect her actual upbringing as a child as discussed here.
 ‘NORMALIZING BLACK WOMEN AS HEROES’ 195

and, on some level, she does – but she has very deep, if complicated,
relationships with the other women. Georgiou is another strong woman
of color, in her own right, who has another interesting story arc. Theirs
is initially almost a kind of maternal relationship, on Georgiou’s part,
we certainly see that in the Mirror Universe. And then you have the
betrayal because Burnham mutinies, she gets punished, and Georgiou
dies. So, you see ways in which all the strong women in the show are
complex. It’s never as easy as good and bad; good guy, bad guy. All of
them are complex, all of them are strong, Tilly as well. She starts out
as this sort of peppy, naïve character, but she has a growth arc over
the course of the story. And L’Rell, of all the characters, is probably the
most interesting in terms of her relationship to Burnham, because they
are archenemies, but by the end they are collaborating. You get a real
range with the other female characters and Burnham’s relationship to
them. And the other thing is that it’s not predictable, it’s not cliché, it’s
not them arguing over a male character, if you think about the Bechdel
test and questions of how female characters are interacting. I think
[the show] keeps it very nuanced. And none of these characters fall
into any easy, obvious, cliché roles, and that strengthens the feminist
implications of the show.

You write that ‘sexuality continues to be a prerequisite for

modern SF heroines’ (2018b, 66). Would you say that Discovery
avoids this sexualization of Burnham (and its other female
characters)?

Yes! In my book I talk about the history of how black women have
been portrayed on screen, and yes, that prerequisite remains true. There
is the idea that you must be scantily clad, or you can fight, but do it
in short shorts. There are enough really cliché movies out there that
claim a strong female character, but also a clearly sexualized one. And
it’s not so much that a character cannot have sexuality, I don’t think
that’s the point – it’s about whether it’s stereotypical, and it’s about the
audience the show or film is trying to appeal to. Burnham eventually
has a romantic relationship with Ash Tyler, and they do have a sexual
relationship, but as a character, she is not unnecessarily sexualized;
whether you look at her demeanor, her attire, her language. If anything,
she initially is really channeling that Vulcan persona, which is very
strait-laced, and she doesn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor. It
certainly pushes back against any easy readings of her as just a sexual
object. She’s never objectified. That’s another plus for the show that it
doesn’t feel like it needs to put her in some outfit to make her interesting
196 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

to the audience. Looking at Uhura in the 1960s, however interesting she

was, she and all the other female characters were to a certain degree
sexualized [through] the mini skirt that she had to wear. To go from
that to a character like Burnham is really interesting for the Star Trek
universe. And it proved that that doesn’t have to be a prerequisite for
a strong, female character in a science fiction show – she’ll still be
interesting without the mini skirt. And the point is not to make them
asexual, the point is to make them interesting, but not to rely strictly
on a kind of sexualization. So, the fact that she has the romance with
Ash Tyler is important, because it is another way of humanizing her, and
showing her desire and emotion. It’s not that she’s completely washed
out in terms of sexuality, but she’s made interesting and sexuality is
not her cornerstone.

With regard to Doctor Who’s Martha Jones, you write that ‘negative
fan reactions … simply reiterate her ability to challenge viewers
when it comes to hegemonic models’ (2018b, 136). Would you say
the same is true for negative fan reactions to Burnham?

Yes, absolutely. Martha Jones was the first black female companion for
the Doctor, and she was constantly being compared to her immediate
predecessor, Rose. So, fans did not seem to like Martha Jones. It was
interesting to me, I thought she was great, I loved Martha Jones as a
character. But fans had an issue with her, and part of that was just
always comparing her to what had come before. I took that as another
sign of her subversiveness – she was riling people up, people did not like
her. And the same can be said about Burnham, that this is a character
who is very different from the women, certainly black women, that
have come before in the Star Trek universe, and so the fact that people
were complaining about the show before the first episode had even
aired tells you something. It was just sort of a kneejerk reaction to two
women of color [in the trailer] and, ultimately, to a black woman as
a hero, at the center of a Star Trek show. And this reaction to it shows
that people weren’t ready for that. But I think that’s to the credit of a
character like Burnham, and it’s true for all change – people are never
ready for that, and you will always get some level of backlash to doing
something different. And in terms of juxtaposing black women and
white women on screen, there is a long and often insidious history
of comparison there, and that’s another aspect that comes into play –
you are used to seeing a certain thing, and then you see something
completely different.
 ‘NORMALIZING BLACK WOMEN AS HEROES’ 197

You use the terms ‘subversive spectatorship’ and ‘oppositional

gaze’ (2018b, 10) in your book. Were these strategies of watching
speculative fiction necessary when you watched Star Trek:
Discovery and, if not, what does that say about the show and
how it (potentially) changes the genre?

For everything I looked at as case studies for the book, part of the reason
I used an oppositional gaze is that it was kind of required because, again,
the black women were not the central characters. It always means you
have to do a little bit of extra work to not just see these characters but
empower these characters. And again, Discovery makes that easier. On
the one hand, Burnham’s still a black woman, she still lives in a kind
of universe where her race and her gender carry a certain symbolic
weight, so you still need a certain subversive perspective to watch the
show. On the other hand, you don’t have to do all this extra work to
say ‘oh, she’s important, despite what the show tells me.’ Here, she’s
important and the show affirms that. And that’s unusual. So, in that
sense, it is a game changer, because it is so rare to have a black female
hero. I would say that an oppositional gaze is still useful, but you don’t
have to work so hard, because the show itself is saying she’s the hero.

The Klingons have traditionally been racialized on successive Star

Trek shows. Do the redesigned Klingons on Discovery change that
or would you say that they still occupy a racialized position?
And if so, would you say that Burnham and L’Rell coming to
compromise and work together (to some extent) at the end of
season one is a similar dismantling of ‘white paternal law’ (2018b,
48) as you argue for in Alien vs. Predator (2004)?

The Klingons on Discovery looked very different from the Klingons that
have come before. Reading reactions to the show, I noticed that there
was some outrage about the ‘new Klingon’ being more stylized, more
barbaric, more savage, even less ‘civilized’ than previous versions. I think
the portrayal of the Klingons is an old issue within the Star Trek universe
and I don’t think that Discovery does a lot to resolve that. If you come
from a tradition of reading the Klingons as racialized characters, then
Discovery just extends that even further with, for instance, the kind of
makeup they used to imagine the Klingons. In that sense, I don’t think
that they are particularly progressive. The Klingons get a lot of screen
time and they are crucial to the narrative, I mean, really the whole first
season, the big plot is the Klingons vs. the Federation in this war, and
how to solve it. But that means they are the bad guys who are on the
198 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

other side of the line, opposite to the Federation. There is a history of

racialization there and I don’t think that the show necessarily defuses
that. On some level they are still playing into a kind of ‘flat’ version of
the Klingons. That being said, obviously we do get close-ups of some
of the characters, with L’Rell and Voq. If the show fails a bit in the
broad portrait of the Klingons, it compensates by giving us some very
interesting closer looks at some very nuanced Klingon characters. And
the fact that Burnham and L’Rell end up working together was a very
interesting twist given the arc they had over the course of the show. It
was another way of evading what I have termed ‘white paternal law’ in
the book – if we get to the end of the show, and a white male hero is
not at the center, that’s unusual. That certainly is similar to my argument
on Alien vs. Predator that, at the end of it all, you have the black female
character as the last one standing, and the Predator as heroes to root
for, because there is nobody else left to root for. So, I do think Discovery
does something similar.

One more question about Mirror Georgiou. There’s the scene

in the brothel on Qo’noS and she takes these two sex workers
with her – would you say that veers too closely to established
portrayals of women of color (and bisexual people) as using sex
to get what they want?

I remember the scene – it certainly fit with her new character as evil. So,
on that level they’re clearly trying to portray her as creature of excess.
This is Bad Georgiou. She does whatever she wants to do, she feeds her
carnal appetites, so it fit with her new persona. But I certainly take your
point of the risk of, at the same time, feeding into stereotypes; I can
understand the discomfort with it as well. So, it fit with her character.
I think it would have been a lot stranger if it had been Burnham. I at
least appreciated that they were strategic with the sexuality of these
characters – for Burnham it was this relationship with Ash Tyler, and
then you have Mirror Georgiou using sex slaves. I think this was just
another layer to her character, but I think you’re right to be cautious.
You look back to the traditions of cinema and how women of color are
portrayed and notions of sexual excess – it’s a fine balance.

We would like to thank Dr. Mafe for taking the time to do this interview with
us and for her insightful answers to our questions and analyses of Star Trek:
Discovery and the character of Michael Burnham.
 ‘NORMALIZING BLACK WOMEN AS HEROES’ 199

Works Cited

Diana A. Mafe, ‘Normalizing Black Women as Heroes: Star Trek Discovery

as Groundbreaking’, Media Diversified, 6 March (2018a), https://
mediadiversified.org/2018/03/06/normalising-black-women-as-heroes-
star-trek-discovery-as-groundbreaking/.
——, Where No Black Woman Has Gone Before: Subversive Portrayals in Speculative
Film and TV (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2018b).
 The Cotton-Gin Effect
An Afrofuturist Reading of Star Trek: Discovery
Whit Frazier Peterson

The recent success of the film Black Panther (2018) has catapulted
Afrofuturism to the forefront of our current cultural conversations, even
if it is not always clear what is meant by this term. It was coined by
Mark Dery in his article ‘Black to the Future’ (1994), and the ‘psychoge-
ography of Afrofuturism’ (187), as Dery puts it, covers territory ranging
from music, to fashion, to film, to literature. In this chapter I will broadly
define Afrofuturism as anything that explores the crossroads of identity
politics, history, technology, and the African diaspora; and in the United
States it can be argued that Afrofuturism has been a part of the African
American aesthetic ever since John Henry took on the steel drill.1 That
is to say that the African American aesthetic has to some extent always
been concerned with the way technology intersects with issues of race,
because technology and race have always been connected in American
society, as African slaves were brought to the United States to operate
functionally as machines and not as human beings.
Recent approaches to Afrofuturism have included looking at it as a
subcategory of the broader category of all Black Speculative Fiction (see
the essay collection Afrofuturism 2.0 (2016) edited by Reynaldo Anderson),
a move that seems useful as the definition of Afrofuturism continues
to expand. Indeed, to some extent, to mention Afrofuturism at all is to
evoke the entire spectrum of Black Speculative Fiction. In this essay,
I am interested in somewhat expanding the definition even further,
and moving beyond looking at Afrofuturism as just a type of cultural
aesthetic or philosophy, but also as a means of critical analysis. There is

1
The John Henry legend is from African American folklore, and tells the
story of John Henry, a railroad worker, who dies attempting to lay down
track faster than a steam drill. For an interesting discussion of the John
Henry myth throughout history, see Nikola-Lisa’s 1998 article ‘John Henry:
Now and Then.’

201
202 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

some precedent for this. Lisa Yaszek’s article, ‘An Afrofuturist Reading
of Invisible Man’ (2005) and Isaiah Lavender’s article, ‘An Afrofuturist
Reading of Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God’ (2016) are
both examples of articles where scholars take traditional works of the
African American literary canon and apply Afrofuturist readings to them.
In the case of Yaszek’s article, we see how Ellison’s book concerns itself
with race and technology, despite the fact that Ellison specifically wanted
to discourage any science-fictional reading of his novel (Yaszek, 2005,
298); likewise, in the case of Lavender’s article, Lavender shows how
many of the tropes of black science fiction appear in Hurston’s novel.
In this article, I will be going a step further; where these articles follow
Alondra Nelson’s prescription that Afrofuturism as a means of critical
inquiry should attempt to ‘explore futurist themes in black cultural
production and the ways in which technological innovation is changing
the face of black art and culture’ (Anderson, 2016, 92), I am interested
in how Afrofuturism as a means of critical inquiry can be used to look
at pop culture products that are concerned with technology and how
we can analyze these products in order to interrogate our concepts not
only of blackness, but also of whiteness. To that end, I will look at the
new television series Star Trek: Discovery (2017–ongoing) and investigate
the liberal-humanist philosophy underlying both the fictional Federation
of Planet’s worldview, as well as the show’s producers’ worldview.
I will begin my examination with an analysis of the troubling
relationship Captain Gabriel Lorca (Jason Isaacs), the starship captain
in the first season, has with women of color, particularly Michael
Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green). Lorca’s sense of propriety over the
black body has a history that goes back to slavery and, in this series,
this sense of propriety manifests itself not only across time, but also
across alternate universes. That this sense of propriety goes unnamed,
and thus unrecognized and unchallenged, especially in a time when
such racial distinctions are supposedly a thing of the past, speaks to
the way that technological progress, while purportedly using science
to move us beyond race, often hides racist assumptions and ensconced
patterns of behavior within its very design. This is what I identify as the
cotton-gin effect, where technology and/or behavior, seemingly benign
and interested in the advancement of progress, actually operates within
the parameters and paradigms of a racist society and at the expense of
an oppressed people. I will argue that the unchecked behavior of Lorca
towards Michael makes his appearance akin to that of the slave-owner,
who views the black body as technology and property; moreover, the
fact that Lorca is actually from the highly racist Mirror Universe (a
fact at first hidden from the viewer), makes his easy assimilation into
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 203

the Prime Universe, and the way his behavior is tolerated in the Prime
Universe, telling of the hidden ideologies in the Prime Universe itself.2 I
will also argue that the abuses of technology in the show, latent in the
Prime Universe and explicit in the Mirror Universe, as well as the very
balancing act that the Star Trek franchise has done since its inception,
of promoting liberal-humanist ideals in a supposedly post-racial future,
while simultaneously playing by the race-inflected rules of the era in
which the shows were filmed, all create a cognitive dissonance for the
viewer that is similar to that of the cotton-gin effect, in that the good
intentions of the shows’ producers, while exposing some of the racist
assumptions and ensconced patterns of behavior in television production
in general, hide others.3 To that end, the liberal-humanist philosophy of
the show itself creates something of a cotton-gin effect, where the world
we live in as viewers is just the idealized view we have of ourselves;
what Star Trek ultimately, and unintentionally, reveals to us is that the
liberal-humanist world we as viewers live in is just a Mirror Universe
masquerading as a Prime Universe, just like Mirror Lorca masquerades as
Prime Lorca; the difference being Lorca is aware of his deceit, whereas

2
It should be noted that Admiral Katrina Cornwell does actually notice and
comment on Lorca’s recent behavior; the relationship between these two
will also be examined in the course of this paper.
3
Dr. Diana Mafe identifies some of these issues in previous Star Trek series
when she discusses the role black women have played in them. See the
interview with Dr. Mafe in this book, in which she says: ‘Uhura is the
pioneering black female figure in Star Trek, and there are many ways –
which I talk about in my book – that she deserves to be called a pioneer
because she was breaking all kinds of barriers in the 1960s, but on the
show, she still had a very limited role: she was certainly part of the main
cast, but never the central figure. And there are different ways in which
she was sexualized, exoticized. In interviews that she [actress Nichelle
Nichols] gave later, she talked about her own frustration with not being
able to really tap into potential for that role; for instance, her lines were
being cut, so there were limits. In that way, she was a product of her time.
And then you look at a character like Guinan and, again, she was in some
ways even more of a minor character than Uhura, because she was not
in every episode, she was the bartender; she was wise, she gave advice.
Sometimes they would include her in more elaborate storylines, but she,
too, was certainly not an essential player.’ In this chapter I will be arguing
that despite the fact that in Star Trek: Discovery a black woman is now the
main protagonist, there are still areas of improvement that are overlooked
in the justifiable celebration of increased diversity in the show, and that
it is often this very self-congratulatory as opposed to self-critical attitude
that causes the producers to overlook these possible areas of improvement.
204 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

we are in the grip of the cotton-gin effect, and cannot always see this
clearly ourselves.
Star Trek: Discovery’s first season follows a story arc involving Michael
Burnham, a young Starfleet science officer aboard the U.S.S. Shenzhou
and later a science specialist on the U.S.S. Discovery. Burnham is an
African American woman who was raised by Sarek (James Frain),
Spock’s (Ethan Peck) father, after the murder of her own parents by
Klingon soldiers. This traumatic event informs much of Burnham’s
thinking throughout the season, despite her training on Vulcan, where
she learned to temper her emotions. Thus, in the two pilot episodes,
when the Shenzhou comes across Klingon warships, Burnham, despite
being a Starfleet officer, and thus committed to a moral philosophy of
non-violence whenever possible, attempts to take control of the ship and
attack the Klingon vessels, a maneuver known as the ‘Vulcan Hello’
(also the title of the first episode). The Vulcan experience with Klingons
had always been adversarial, Burnham learns in a conversation with
her step-father, and the Vulcans are aware that any confrontation with
Klingon starships means inevitable battle; thus, in order to gain the upper
hand in a conflict situation, the protocol of the Vulcan government is to
attack Klingon ships as soon as they are spotted, even if they have not
attacked first (1x01, ‘The Vulcan Hello’), a response that clearly echoes
the United States’ own controversial post-9/11 policy of ‘pre-emptive
strikes’ that characterized the ‘Bush Doctrine’ (Gupta, 2008, 181).
This reference is intended of course. Throughout the season, viewers
are given glimpses of policy approaches that echo some of the United
States’ own (foreign) policies, and the corrections to U.S. policy are meant
to be evident in the liberal-humanist philosophy of Starfleet, which is
dedicated to peace, non-violence, philanthropy, and exploration.4 Thus,
the arc of Michael’s story is from her reactionary mutiny, to once again
defying Starfleet at the end of the season when Starfleet, under danger
of destruction by the Klingon Empire, approves a plan to destroy the
Klingons’ home planet of Qo’noS, thereby rendering the Klingon Empire
too weak to continue their thus far successful campaign against the
Federation. Michael, in essence, learns a lesson that Starfleet command
has adopted, but has not fully internalized. How Michael acquires
this wisdom is the fundamental story arc underlying the season. This
story involves a number of complicated relationships Michael has with

4
For a discussion of U.S. foreign policy and Star Trek in general, and
Discovery in particular, see also ‘The American Hello: U.S. Representations
of Diplomacy in Star Trek: Discovery’ by Henrik Schillinger and Arne
Sönnichsen in this volume.
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 205

members of her crew; and, as in the reboot Star Trek film series, which
imagines the original Star Trek cast in an alternate universe, Star Trek:
Discovery assumes the existence of the multiverse as well, an infinite
number of parallel universes where historical differences have led to
differences in the characters. The existence of this multiverse allows us
to analyze the relationships between the characters in two differently
imagined universes and see what tropes surface in both, and what tropes
emerge slightly changed.

An Armageddon: As Now

The first thing that has to be mentioned when discussing this season
from an Afrofuturist perspective is that there is no mention made of
different races between humans. This needs to be analyzed because
Michael’s race is not immaterial to the actual product we, as viewers,
are watching. Co-creator Bryan Fuller made it clear in the production
of the show that not only did he want the main character to be female,
he also wanted her to ‘represent diversity.’ In a statement before the
actual airing of the show, he said:

Star Trek started with a wonderful expression of diversity in its

cast … our lead of the show is going to be subject of that same level
of who’s the best actor and also what can we say about diversity
on the show. We haven’t cast her yet, so we don’t know what
level of diversity she will be, but that’s forefront in our minds.
(Hibberd, 2017)

So it is no accident that an African American woman, Sonequa

Martin-Green, is playing this lead role, and yet within the context of the
show itself, at least explicitly, there is no mention made of race at all. We
are supposedly in a future time where questions of race between humans
are no longer relevant, and even the most unenlightened humans do not
see racial categories between humans as a fundamental issue anymore.5
What is troubling about this approach, however, is the cognitive
dissonance between the cultural moment in which the show appears,
where identity politics are paramount to our global conversation, and

5
It should be mentioned that this is only so in the Prime Universe. In the
Mirror Universe, racism appears to be a very prominent issue, although
we never really learn what is meant by racism in a universe characterized
by interactions between highly sentient creatures from myriad planets.
206 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

the world of Star Trek, where xenophobia manifests between alien

species but not between human ‘races.’ This is perhaps most evident
in the relationship Michael Burnham has with Captain Gabriel Lorca,
a rogue captain who has managed to travel across universes, and uses
Michael, as well as the Discovery’s experimental spore drive, to help
him get back to his own universe, hoping in the process to continue
his campaign against the Terran Empire, which is the counterpart to
the Federation. The fate of Prime Gabriel Lorca remains a mystery, at
least on the television show, but it becomes obvious in the second half
of the season that Lorca has had a relationship with Michael Burnham
in the Mirror Universe (1x12, ‘Vaulting Ambition’), and this relationship
is one that he assumes he can reignite in some way with the Burnham
from the Prime Universe.
Michael is in fact being transferred from one prison to another for
her attempted mutiny against her original captain, Captain Georgiou
(Michelle Yeoh), aboard the U.S.S. Shenzhou when she is taken aboard the
U.S.S. Discovery, which Captain Lorca commands. There, she encounters
some of her old shipmates, who now have taken a very cold and
unfriendly attitude towards her. After a fight in the mess hall, Michael
is taken to see Captain Lorca, and the viewer is witness to the first
meeting between Michael from the Prime Universe and Captain Lorca
from the Mirror Universe (1x03, ‘Context is for Kings’).
His first words to her are themselves ironic: ‘No matter how deep
in space you are, I always feel like you can just see home’ (1x03), the
irony being two-fold: first, that Lorca’s eyes have trouble adjusting to
the light, as he is from an alternate universe and, second, that being
from an alternate universe, there is, of course, no way he could imagine
himself ‘seeing’ home across any distance. There is also the additional
meaning that by seeing Michael again in this universe where she is still
alive, he is once again seeing a ‘home’ that he had lost.6 At the start
of the ensuing three-minute exchange between the two characters, we
see Lorca evading Michael’s questions, and behaving in a way that can
almost be considered bashful; for example when Michael asks, ‘What
am I doing aboard this ship?’ Lorca answers, glancing furtively behind
his back, ‘I guess you might have to ask that storm out there.’ Michael
counters with, ‘I received no warning that I’d be transferred to another
prison facility, which is customary. My shuttle changed course halfway
through the journey,’ to which Lorca cryptically responds, ‘Maybe the

6
It should be noted that this irony is not apparent to the viewer until later
on in the season, as on a first viewing it is not clear at this point that
Lorca’s character is from an alternate universe.
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 207

universe hates waste.’ ‘Sir?’ asks Michael, and here Lorca coquettishly
smiles and cocks his head to the side, responding, ‘The question is:
what am I going to do with you?’ Lorca says this with something of a
lascivious smile, then appears to run this question through his mind
out loud – what is he going to do with her – dismissing the possibility
of putting her in the brig, and deciding instead to put her to work on
the ship.
Up to this point in this exchange, Lorca has played something of a
flirt. His attitude has been friendly, non-threatening and, in general,
that of a confidante. When Michael refuses to work, with a simple,
‘no,’ however, we see an immediate change in his disposition. ‘Excuse
me?’ he says, his eyes narrow, and he gives her a sidelong, indignant
glance. For the African American viewer who is aware that Michael is
playing a role that is meant to celebrate diversity, we are confronted
with a situation that is all too familiar: The African American woman is
simply not allowed to question the use of her body in the institutional
chains of power in which she finds herself. And so one cannot help but
think of bell hooks’ comment from 1992 in Black Looks, that ‘there are
few films or television shows that attempt to challenge assumptions that
sexual relationships between black women and white men are not based
solely on power relationships which mirror master/slave paradigms’
(74). Historically, the Star Trek series have been interested in looking at
tropes in popular culture and subverting them, and yet, even in 2017
(when Star Trek: Discovery first aired), the Star Trek franchise is still not
able to subvert this trope. Right away, within the first few minutes of
their meeting, Lorca has turned their relationship into one that echoes
the master/slave paradigm, and Lorca exhibits the white male sense of
propriety over the black female body by combining flirtatiousness with
a quick willingness to pull rank and thus establish power dynamics
within the context of this sexually charged exchange.
The scene continues with Michael immediately showing a subservient
attitude by not only responding with ‘No thank you, respectfully,’ but
responding in what amounts to no more than a whisper. She continues
in this whispered voice, ‘I owe a debt for my crime and it’d be best…
I’d prefer to serve my time without getting involved.’ Lorca, for his part
simply laughs when she says this and responds, ‘Think I care what
your preferences are?’ He then walks away from her, and says, ‘Until
your vessel is repaired, you’ll be assigned to quarters and put to work’
(1x03). This sounds eerily reminiscent of slavery, if there were still any
lingering doubts, and even hearkens back to the neo-slavery of not
only the Black Codes of American Reconstruction, where an African
American violating the vagrancy laws could be ‘put to work,’ but also to
208 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

the neo-slavery built into the language of the 13th Amendment, where
in Section 1, it is written, ‘Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude,
except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly
convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to
their jurisdiction’ (U.S. Constitution. Art./Amend. XIII, Sec. 1; emphasis
added). Thus, Michael becomes the only character in the entire first
season to be subjected to involuntary servitude, and this is imposed on
her by a white superior officer who has had an intimate relationship
with her double in a parallel universe. ‘You were once a Starfleet officer,’
Lorca continues, ‘I would use you or anything else I can to achieve my
mission’ (1x03). Once again, the language here dehumanizes Michael, in
effect calling her a thing, an especially chilling attitude to take towards
a sexual partner. This, too, has a long historical precedent; bell hooks
observes that black women in European society were never considered
human by the white male:

They are not to look at her as a whole human being. They are to
notice only certain parts. Objectified in a manner similar to that
of black female slaves who stood on auction blocks while owners
and overseers described their important, salable parts, the black
women whose naked bodies were displayed for whites at social
functions had no presence. They were reduced to mere spectacle.
Little is known of their lives, their motivations. Their body parts
were offered as evidence to support racist notions that black people
were more akin to animals than other humans. (1992, 62)

At this point in the conversation Lorca says that his mission is to send
everyone home ‘safe and happy,’ then he dismisses Michael with a curt
nod of his head. All sense of playfulness or flirtatiousness has now
dissipated, and his body language, standing above her with arms held
akimbo, is one of a person in authority speaking to a subservient, which
is, of course, the actual power dynamic between them. What Lorca does
know, and what Michael (and we as viewers), at this point, are unaware
of, is that there is already a sexual component to this relationship and
this power dynamic makes the scene, upon a second viewing, even more
perverse, and centers it historically within the tropes of black female
slave and white male master paradigms. The look on Lorca’s face when
Michael leaves the room is one of disgust, lust, and curiosity.
These kinds of scenes are familiar enough to us as modern people
and consumers of popular culture. Whether we focus on minor micro-
aggressions like white people fawning over and touching black hair
without permission, or cultural memes that reappear in music videos
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 209

showing black women twerking, which are then subsequently satirized

and turned into a kind of booty-blackface in countless YouTube videos and
commercial products (consider for example the mechanical twerking
Santa Claus or a mechanical twerking Christmas Bear), or the very real
power dynamics in play that cause women of color to die at three times
the rate of white women in childbirth (Martin, 2018), black women are
devalued in American society, and this devaluation is emphasized and
reemphasized through our media outlets. Even Michelle Obama, one
of the most inspiring contemporary public figures in recent history,
discusses how, as a successful and powerful black woman, she had to
deal with the ‘angry black woman’ trope being applied to her (Obama,
2018, 265). What makes this interesting from an Afrofuturist perspective
is the way this trope plays out in the Star Trek universe, not just within
one universe, but across universes. In a series in which the Federation
finds itself eventually facing Armageddon, we have a black female who
has been living through Armageddon her entire life. Borrowing from
Public Enemy’s line ‘Armageddon been in effect,’ and referencing music
writer Mark Sinker, tobias c. van Veen writes in ‘The Armageddon Effect’:

For Sinker, the very genesis of Afrofuturism develops from the

tension that ‘Armageddon been in effect.’ Armageddon commences
with Africans abducted by aliens to a strange land; everything that
follows is played out in a post-apocalyptic dystopia. The phrase
is taken from ‘Countdown to Armageddon,’ the dystopic, shell-
shocked opening to It Takes A Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back
(1988). Professor Griff unleashes the flow: ‘Armageddon been in
effect. Go get a late pass. Step! / This time around, the revolution
will not be televised. Step!’ For Sinker as for Public Enemy, the
alien ships had already landed. (2016, 68–69)

Thus, Michael’s story begins with Armageddon, as do all African

Americans’ stories – specifically, in Michael’s case, with the murder of
her parents.7 African Americans of course, also have to deal with their
displacement from the motherland. This is to say all African Americans
are in the position of the motherless child, and all African Americans
have been, to some extent, like Michael, raised by an alien intelligence.
When Captain Lorca decides to take Michael, and indeed the entire ship

7
Michael’s mother is actually alive, as will be revealed in the second season;
the viewer, however, does not realize this at the moment, nor does Michael.
Even in the second season, Michael remains something of a ‘motherless
child,’ as she is forced to lose her mother a second time.
210 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

and its crew, with him to his universe, the theme of abduction takes
center stage. Once again, we see the white male in position of power
asserting his authority in order to wrest a black female from her home
and implant her in his own. He has lost her in one universe and feels
he can simply take her alternate as his lover in another. It is a position
that only someone with an extreme sense of propriety over the black
body could assume, and the relationship between Michael and Lorca
then takes on an even darker cast once the two of them find themselves
in the Mirror Universe. At this point, Michael goes from simply being
an out-of-reach potential black female sex slave for Gabriel Lorca, to a
very within-reach potential black female sex slave. They are no longer
in the liberal-humanist universe of the Federation. They are now in the
very aptly named Mirror Universe, a universe that shows us what the
Federation really is when it looks itself in the face.
In the universe Lorca comes from, the Terran Empire is built on
an ‘oppressive, racist, xenophobic culture that dominates all known
space’ (1x10, ‘Despite Yourself’). The Mirror Universe is a universe
that, for Federation officers from the Prime Universe at least, is also
an Armageddon universe. They all have counterparts in this universe,
counterparts who are generally cruel and manipulative, and yet they are
forced to play these roles themselves if they are to survive in this new
environment. For Captain Lorca, this is just a return to normal, but for
the rest of the crew it becomes an existential nightmare. In this new
universe, Lorca was the right-hand advisor of Terran Emperor Phillipa
Georgiou, who had been Burnham’s captain on the Shenzhou back in
the Prime Universe, and Lorca and Georgiou raised Michael together as
an adopted daughter after Michael’s parents were killed. At some point,
however, Lorca developed a more than paternal affection for Michael,
and this led to a rift between Emperor Georgiou and Lorca. This rift
comes to a head when Lorca attempts a coup against Georgiou, Michael
is sent by Georgiou to stop him, and Michael is killed in the process.
This leads to Lorca escaping into the Prime Universe, and leaving his
ship, the I.S.S. Buran, in the Mirror Universe to be destroyed (1x12,
‘Vaulting Ambition’).8
Lorca’s relationships with various other women are also worth a bit
of scrutiny at this point. The one relationship that Lorca has that the

8
The reference to the Cold War Soviet Shuttle ‘Buran’ is certainly intentional;
the original Soviet Buran was destroyed in a hangar accident in 2002 (www.
space.com). The implications of this Cold War reference to questions of
liberal-humanist philosophy, while beyond the scope of the present study,
are certainly of interest.
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 211

viewer actually sees consummated in the first season is his relationship

with Admiral Katrina Cornwell (Jayne Brook), a high-ranking Starfleet
officer, who also once worked as a psychiatrist. Their intimate moment
comes in episode 6, ‘Lethe,’ when Cornwell boards the Discovery in order
to check on the mental and psychological health of Lorca. It seems that
Lorca is interested in two kinds of relationships, and both of these involve
explicit power dynamics: On the one hand, he enjoys relationships with
women who are not of the same rank as he is, subordinates, whom he
can use and discard at will – this characterizes his relationship with
Michael, with Commander Ellen Landry (Rekha Sharma) and with a
woman from the Mirror Universe, Ava, who is mentioned only once
and never makes an appearance;9 on the other hand, he seems to enjoy
relationships with women in power as well, women who rank higher
than he does. Both Emperor Georgiou in the Mirror Universe and
Admiral Cornwell in the Prime Universe rank higher than he does,
and those are the only other two women we see him involved with.
In the scene where Lorca and Admiral Cornwell meet to discuss what
he has been up to, Lorca at one point suggests they talk like friends,
and breaks out a bottle of scotch. Admiral Cornwell then tells him, ‘I
worry about you, Gabriel. Some of the decisions you’ve been making
lately have been troubling’ (1x06, ‘Lethe’). Lorca pushes back against
this, suggesting that war requires some quick minute creative thinking,
but Cornwell is able to see past his attempts at dissembling. ‘I don’t
think you’ve been the same since the Buran,’10 she says. At this point
Lorca laughs somewhat nervously, leans forward and can only offer,
‘I’ve passed every test. Cleared for duty every time. But you know that
don’t you, Doc,’ thus moving the discussion away from the personal and
back into the professional. Cornwell replies that she has indeed seen his
evaluations, but that what really concerns her is that ‘less than a week

9
The question of who Ava is is itself worth asking. Her brother, Captain
Maddox (Dwain Murphy), a dark-skinned man, releases Lorca from the
torture chamber in order to personally exact revenge on behalf of his sister,
a woman whom Lorca apparently used as a sexual object and discarded.
Maddox repeatedly demands that Lorca acknowledge his sister by saying
her name. Lorca, after coming out of the torture chamber and gaining the
upper hand in a tussle with Captain Maddox says, ‘Her name was Ava. And
I liked her. But you know how it is. Somebody better came along’ (1x12,
‘Vaulting Ambition’). The assumption here is that this ‘somebody better’
was Michael; this dismissive way of talking about black women seems to
support the idea that Lorca feels a sense of propriety over the black body
and is easily able to dehumanize black women as objects.
10
In the Prime Universe the Buran was also destroyed.
212 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

ago you were being tortured, now you’re back in the chair. How do
you feel about that?’ Lorca’s response to this is to laugh again and say,
‘Are we in a session? I didn’t know you were practicing again, because
if I have your undivided attention for fifty minutes, I can think of a
whole bunch of other things we could be doing.’ At which point he
commences to seduce her and thus to completely deflect the conversation
away from himself.
This scene is interesting to compare with the previous scene involving
Michael, because both scenes showcase Lorca’s manipulative way of
dealing with women – in the case of Michael, dealing with a subservient,
and in the case of Admiral Cornwell, dealing with a superior officer.
In both instances what we see at play is Lorca’s enjoyment of the back
and forth of the male/female power struggle. In the case of Michael,
his obsession with her, and thus the coquettish manner in which he
addresses her at first, allows her an initial advantage, to the point where
she even feels like she can refuse to help him onboard the ship, an
advantage which he quickly shuts down by a shift in his demeanor as
soon as she denies him. In the case of Cornwell, he realizes that his point
of power comes from her feelings for him. However, it does not seem
likely that he has any actual feelings for Admiral Cornwell, as they do
not appear to have had any relationship in the Mirror Universe,11 and
so he uses her affection for him as a means of manipulating her – not
only by disarming her line of inquiry into his behavior and disposition
(since he, unbeknownst to her, has assumed the place of Prime Lorca),
but also by having her question her own expertise and objectivity in
relation to him.
This is evident when Lorca is sleeping after they have made love, and
Cornwell examines a scar on his back. His reaction is to flip around and
pull a phaser on her; in essence, he wakes up experiencing a moment
of trauma, a trauma that may seem like extreme PTSD to Cornwell. She
responds by saying, ‘The truth is you are not the man I used to know’
(1x06). Once again, Lorca tries to turn this around by admitting, ‘You’re
right. It’s been harder on me than I let on, and I need help.’ Cornwell
responds, ‘I hate that I can’t tell if this is really you.’ Cornwell, as Lorca’s
lover and as a trained psychologist, intuits something is amiss, but she
cannot really see what is troubling him, because she is not able to name
and identify the sense of propriety Lorca feels he has over Michael.
This is to say, what seems to really trouble Lorca in this scene is the
possibility of losing the Discovery. He knows he cannot lose the ship
because, if he does, he loses the opportunity to return to the Mirror

11
This is only made apparent to the viewer later in the season.
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 213

Universe, and to do so with Michael. There is a bond between Michael

and Lorca, as Lorca sees it, that is fated to exist across multiverses. As
he himself says, ‘Different universe, and yet somehow the same people
had a way to find each other. It’s the strongest argument I’ve ever seen
for the existence of destiny’ (1x10, ‘Despite Yourself’).
That Lorca brings his Armageddon-inflected mind to the Prime
Universe and exercises his sense of propriety over Michael in this new
world is no surprise; what is worthy of note, however, is that Michael
accepts his behavior as normal and allows it to go unchallenged. Michael,
in the Prime Universe, is already in a state of Armageddon as a black
woman in a white universe, as a human who has been raised as a
Vulcan, as a young woman who witnessed the murder of her parents,
and as a Starfleet officer who intuits that Starfleet itself is only one
catastrophe away from abandoning its own principles. The fact that
race is never mentioned is itself testament to the sense of complete
Armageddon haunting Michael in the Prime Universe. After all, there
is no way that the crew of the Enterprise, in the year 2257, reflects the
diversity that the planet Earth will have in 250 years unless there was
a literal Armageddon for people of color on the planet. In fact, Michael
is the only black female on the ship that we as viewers get to know;
the only other afronaut of note on the ship, Dr. Culber (Wilson Cruz),
is killed off fairly early by Michael’s love interest, Tyler (Shazad Latif).12
On the one hand, one can argue that this is a television show made in
2017, where we are all fully aware that African American actors receive,
in general, short shrift; but on the other hand, Star Trek, as a franchise
has always concerned itself with the question of diversity, and to cast
the crew of a starship that reflects diversity patterns in 2017 and call
it 2257 suggests that, in the future, the issue of cultural diversity has
been perhaps subsumed and supplanted by the enlightenment ideology
of scientific progress over spiritual and moral progress.

The Intersection of Race and Technology

Much mention has been made in this chapter of the ‘black body.’ This
phrase has come under scrutiny by several academics in recent years,
and so, before moving into an examination of race and technology, it

12
Dr. Culber does reappear in the second season and, while other minority
characters are introduced in the second season, the point remains that the
amount of diversity reflected in the show does not match what one would
expect from 2257.
214 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

is first important to stop and examine this concept of the ‘black body,’
because the black body was technology in the United States before the
industrial revolution; it was technology in every sense of the word as
used today, in that the black body was used for labor, for education, for
childcare, for entertainment and for enjoyment. Like Robin D.G. Kelley,
I suspect the phrase has come into popular use lately largely because of
Ta-Nehisi Coates’ book, Between the World and Me (2015) (Kelley). Coates
writes (to quote the exact same passage Kelley quotes in his article):

In America, it is traditional to destroy the black body – it is heritage.

Enslavement was not merely the antiseptic borrowing of labor – it
is not so easy to get a human being to commit their body against
its own elemental interest. And so enslavement must be casual
wrath and random manglings, the gashing of heads and brains
blown out over the river as the body seeks to escape. It must be
rape so regular as to be industrial. … The spirit and soul are the
body and brain, which are destructible – that is precisely why they
are so precious. And the soul did not escape. The spirit did not
steal away on gospel wings. (Coates, 2015, 103)

Kelley writes, in response:

I do not deny the violence Coates so eloquently describes here, and

I am sympathetic to his atheistic skepticism. But what sustained
enslaved African people was a memory of freedom, dreams of seizing
it, and conspiracies to enact it – fugitive planning, if you will. If
we reduce the enslaved to mere fungible bodies, we cannot possibly
understand how they created families, communities, sociality; how
they fled and loved and worshiped and defended themselves; how
they created the world’s first social democracy. (2016; original
emphasis)

For Kelley, focusing on the concept of the black body removes agency
from the actual individuals who not only created families and legacies
and dynasties, but overcame slavery, overcame Black Codes, overcame
Jim Crow and launched the Civil Rights, Black Arts, and Black Power
movements. Similarly, in an interview with Ploughshares, Fred Moten
argues:

When I hear that phrase, ‘the black body,’ I kind of want to

say, ‘Well there’s no such thing,’ or, if there is such a thing, it’s
something that is imposed upon and conferred upon us at the
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 215

moment of our death. The moment of death is also the moment

of individuation. To me, that’s how come it was so horrific they
left Michael Brown’s body on the street for so long. What it did
was it imposed upon on [sic] us the radical knowledge of how
fundamentally alone he was at that moment. (Duplan, 2016)

For Moten, the black body only becomes a ‘thing’ when that ‘thing’ has
ceased to have being as an actual individual, and then, paradoxically
enough, through the presence of this black body, the individuation
becomes agonizingly evident. I am sympathetic to both Kelley and
Moten’s takes on the weird dichotomy of the black body as object and
the black body as belonging to a subject, but the thing to remember
about Coates’ argument is that Coates is investigating whiteness. The
idea of the ‘black body’ is almost nonsensical from a black perspective
because for the black subject the black body is simply a human body,
not a trope of academic wonder; but when interrogating whiteness, the
black body becomes something (like technology) worthy of academic
study, because it has a significance in the white imagination beyond
just the banal fact of it being another body.
Indeed, in the white American imagination, the black body is
wondrous and frightening at the same time – a kind of non-human
Frankenstein creation unleashed by Western overreach. Thus, when
James Baldwin tells white America,

If I’m not a nigger here and you invented him, you, the white
people, invented him, then you’ve got to find out why. And the
future of the country depends on that. Whether or not it’s able to
ask that question (Baldwin, 2017)

it is this black body he is referring to as the nigger – this bogeyman of

technology and progress that the white American has created. Thus, I
would argue that Coates’ examination of the ‘black body’ as a trope is
probably the most important addition to the conversation he gives us
in his book Between the World and Me, because it helps black Americans
deconstruct this myth of the black body that white America has created,
so that we are better able to examine the relationship between race and
technology, and how the arbiters of technology use racist structures from
racist institutions to create a technology that is supposed to be post-racial,
but that instead simply supports the hegemonic power structures that
have always been in place in the United States.
When we look at the role of technology in Star Trek: Discovery, and
try to analyze it through the Afrofuturist lens of what I have previously
216 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

identified as the cotton-gin effect, we see that the major technological

innovation introduced in the world of Star Trek: Discovery, the spore drive,
is an insidious device that, like the cotton-gin, advances productivity
at the expense of humanity, on the backs of bodies. The spore drive is a
kind of warp engine that assumes that, at the quantum level, biology
and physics are not really different fields of study, and thus travel
through space involves movement along a mycelial network, instantly
transporting the ship anywhere in the universe or, as it turns out, into
other universes as well. In order for the drive to operate, however, a
living creature has to connect to it. Initially the creature the science team
on the Discovery uses is a tardigrade, an alien similar to the eponymous
earth creature, which has a biological makeup uniquely suited to travel
the mycelial network and can keep a large number of co-ordinates in
its head. The travel causes the creature an enormous amount of pain,
however, and damages the creature’s frontal lobe, and so the astromy-
cologist Lieutenant Paul Stamets takes over the job of navigating the
spore drive. The ethical questions that arise from such technology are
clear, and become even clearer as Lieutenant Stamets suffers the effects
of repeated jumps with the technology. It is easy enough to see how the
cotton-gin effect applies to this technology: in order to be able to pilot
the spore drive, Stamets has to add some of the creature’s biological
makeup to his own, thus making him, in effect, something other than
human. If the spore drive technology were to be taken up by Starfleet in
all of its ships (at the time of Discovery only two ships had been outfitted
with it, and one of them, the U.S.S. Glenn, crashed while using it), it
would require pilots, either tardigrades or genetically altered humans;
these pilots, whether human or not, would thus be sacrificed for the
efficient operation of the machinery. Moreover, it is a technology that
has the potential of not just destroying one universe, but several, and
is used in just such a destructive manner by the Terran Empire in the
Mirror Universe. Thus, this troubling technology has obvious parallels
with technologies that not only have the potential for a cotton-gin effect,
but also technologies in our time that accelerate global climate change.
The Terran Empire in general represents the cotton-gin effect run amok.
Not only are the Terrans using their technology irresponsibly, they have
turned it into actively malicious technology. There is an echo of this in
the episode ‘What’s Past is Prologue’ when Lieutenant Stamets comes
to the realization that the Terrans ‘have created a super-mycelial reactor
on the Charon, and it’s destroying the network.’ As he grimly notes,
‘When it goes, it takes all life with it, in all universes’ (1x13, ‘What’s
Past is Prologue’).
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 217

Conclusion

The Star Trek franchise offers an extraordinarily rich array of material

for Afrofuturist analyses of whiteness. On the one hand, Star Trek has
always been on the cutting edge of liberal-humanist philosophy, and
Starfleet has always been meant to be the torchbearer of that philosophy.
On the other hand, African American thinkers have often had to view
Western liberal-humanist philosophy with a certain critical skepticism
because, too often, liberal humanism loses sight of the human being
in the face of liberal-humanistic ideology, and becomes blindsided to
its own biases and ideological assumptions built into the very fabric of
its institutions. Perhaps more insidiously, what gets taken for liberal-
humanist philosophy sometimes hides neo-conservative outlooks on the
world. This is an argument Daniel Leonard Bernardi makes about The
Next Generation (1987–1994) in his book, Star Trek and History: Race-ing
toward a White Future (1998), in which he writes:

And for all its rhetoric of humanism, diversity, and plurality, The
Next Generation present us with a future where everything from
the multicultural past to the assimilation of dark aliens smacks
of a neoconservative project. Perhaps this is most visible in the
representation of human evolution as white, particularly with gods
like Q, even though the beginning of life is brown, as represented
in ‘The Chase.’ The point: wherever we come from, the course
of evolution, of advancement and sophistication, is literally and
metaphorically, physically and socially, white. (136)

Indeed, there is a tension and cognitive dissonance in the Star Trek

series between what Starfleet preaches, Bryan Fuller’s self-congrat-
ulatory instead of self-critical analysis of diversity in the Star Trek
canon, and what we as viewers experience. This cognitive dissonance
can be considered one example of the cotton-gin effect in Star Trek’s
production. The actual lack of diversity13 aboard the Discovery, despite
the extreme amount of diversity that is supposed to be represented, is
another example of the cotton-gin effect in the show’s production; the

13
While Discovery has a greater diversity than many other television shows,
and more diversity than previous Star Trek series, as mentioned, for a
supposedly ‘post-racial’ future, the ratio of darker-complexioned characters
reflects 2018/2019 trends more than the likely scientific reality of a racially
color-blind 2257 and, as Bernardi points out, the course of evolution in
Star Trek The Next Generation (and I would extend his analysis to Star Trek:
Discovery as well) is ultimately white.
218 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

sense of propriety over the Other exemplified by Captain Lorca’s behavior

with Michael, and her acceptance of his behavior is an example of the
cotton-gin effect in the plot of the show itself;14 and finally the way
technology continues to be used as a means of scientific progress instead
of as a means of moral or spiritual progress is another example of the
cotton-gin effect in the plot of the show itself. Thus, the cotton-gin effect’s
presence in the plot of the show seems almost to serve as an uninten-
tional cautionary tale about the cotton-ginning of liberal-humanism in
general, even in the production of the very show itself. What Star Trek
ultimately shows us is a future very much a Mirror Universe of our own
present Terrenean universe, where the black mind is still in a state of
Armageddon, and where a post-post-racial Federation is still living in
fear of a black planet.

Works Cited

Reynaldo Anderson and Charles E. Jones, Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of

Astro-Blackness (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2016).
Daniel Leonard Bernardi, Star Trek and History: Race-ing toward a White Future
(New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1998).
‘Buran: The Soviet Space Shuttle’, Space, Future US, Inc. (2015), https://
www.space.com/29159-buran-soviet-shuttle.html.
Ta-Nehisi Coates, Between the World and Me (New York: Spiegel & Grau, 2015).
Mark Dery, ‘Black to the Future’, in Mark Dery (ed.) Flame Wars: The Discourse
of Cyber Culture (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1994): 179–222.
Anaïs Duplan, ‘A Body that is Ultra-Body: In Conversation with Fred Moten
and Elysia Crampton’, Ploughshares, 13 July (2016), http://blog.pshares.org/
index.php/a-body-that-is-ultra-body-in-conversation-with-fred-moten-
and-elysia-crampton/.
Sanjay Gupta, ‘The Doctrine of Pre-Emptive Strike: Application and
Implications During the Administration of President George W. Bush’,
International Political Science Review, 29.2 (2008): 181–96.
Ricardo Guthrie, ‘The Real Ghosts in the Machine: Afrofuturism and the
Haunting of Racial Space in I, Robot and DETROPIA’, in Reynaldo Anderson
and Charles E. Jones (eds.) Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness
(Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2016): 45–60.
James Hibberd, ‘Star Trek: Major Details Revealed About New TV Show’,
Entertainment Weekly, 27 July (2017) https://ew.com/article/2016/08/10/
star-trek-tv-series/.

14
The issue of sexism is one that could also benefit from analysis and interro-
gation – a kind of Astrofeminism that examines the intersection of gender
and technology.
 AN AFROFUTURIST READING OF STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 219

bell hooks, Black Looks: Race and Representation (Boston, MA: South End
Press, 1992).
George Joseph and Mustafa, ‘FBI Tracked an Activist Involved with Black
Lives Matter as They Travelled Across the U.S., Documents Show’,
The Intercept, 19 March (2018), https://theintercept.com/2018/03/19/
black-lives-matter-fbi-surveillance/.
Robin D.G. Kelley, ‘Black Study, Black Struggle’, Boston Review (2016), http://
bostonreview.net/forum/robin-d-g-kelley-black-study-black-struggle.
Isaiah Lavender, ‘An Afrofuturist Reading of Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes
Were Watching God’, Literature Interpretation Theory, 27.3 (2016): 213–33.
Nina Martin, ‘U.S. Black Mothers Die in Childbirth at Three Times the Rate
of White Mothers’, National Public Radio, 7 December (2017), https://www.
npr.org/2017/12/07/568948782/black-mothers-keep-dying-after-giving-
birth-shalon-irvings-story-explains-why?t=1543239362293.
W. Nikola-Lisa, ‘John Henry: Then and Now’, African American Review, 32.1
(1998): 51–56.
Michelle Obama, Becoming (New York: Crown Publishing Group, 2018).
Tobias c. van Veen, ‘The Armageddon Effect: Afrofuturism and the
Chronopolitics of Alien Nation’, in Reynaldo Anderson and Charles
E. Jones (eds.) Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness (Lanham, MD:
Lexington Books, 2016).
Lisa Yazek, ‘Afrofuturist Reading of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man’, Rethinking
History, 9.2/3 (2005): 297–313.

Episodes and Films Cited

‘The Vulcan Hello.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller and
Akiva Goldsman, directed by David Semel, CBS Television Studios,
24  September, 2017.
‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 1 October, 2017.
‘Lethe.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Joe Menosky and Ted Sullivan,
directed by Douglas Aarniokoski, CBS Television Studios, 22 October,
2017.
‘Despite Yourself.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Sean Cochran, directed by
Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television Studios, 7 January, 2018.
‘Vaulting Ambition.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordan Nardino, directed
by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios, 21 January, 2018.
‘What’s Past is Prologue.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Ted Sullivan,
directed by Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 29 January,
2018.

I Am Not Your Negro. 2017. Directed by Raoul Peck. Magnolia Pictures.

 The American Hello
Representations of U.S. Diplomacy in
Star Trek: Discovery
Henrik Schillinger and Arne Sönnichsen

Introduction1

Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship
Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds.
To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no
man has gone before!

ghoSlI’ chaH. ngIq HeySelmaj’ e’ nuSev ‘ej nuqat ‘ej nutaHmoHbogh

Hoch lunge’. (1x01, ‘The Vulcan Hello’)2

Star Trek: Discovery (DSC) begins with an act of estrangement. Not only
are its opening words delivered in the alien Klingon language (with
English subtitles), but they invert Star Trek’s iconic prologue. Star Trek’s
distinguishing theme of peaceful exploration, of ‘seeking out’ new civili-
zations, is, from the Klingon perspective, marked as expansionism and
a danger to cultural identity: ‘They are coming … and take all that we
are’ (1x01, ‘The Vulcan Hello’). This opening sets up DSC’s first season
to confront one, if not the, leitmotif of Star Trek: diplomacy.
Diplomacy is at the core of the politics of Star Trek. The show
posits a diplomatic understanding of the world/universe. A diplomatic

1
We thank the editors, Sarah Earnshaw and Lisa Scholz, for their valuable
input and editorial work.
2
T’Kuvma (Chris Obi): ‘They are coming. Atom by atom they will coil around
us and take all that we are. There is one way to confront this threat. By
reuniting the 24 warring houses of our own empire. We have forgotten
the Unforgettable the last to unify our tribes: Kahless. Together, under
one creed: remain Klingon. That is why we light our beacon this day. To
assemble our people. To lock arms against those whose fatal greeting is:
“We come in peace”’ (1x01, ‘The Vulcan Hello’).

221
222 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

understanding of the world presupposes the ‘plural fact’: people live

under ‘conditions of separation’ as peoples/worlds – and even hold
different interpretations of the respective ideas that constitute any
people’s identity (Sharp, 2009, 10). Conditions of separation require
‘relations of separation’ to manage the encounters with those strange
new worlds and alien civilizations (Sharp, 2009, 10): enter diplomacy
understood as the mediation of estrangement (Der Derian, 1987, 42–43).
This understanding of diplomacy is not restricted to the deeds of
ambassadors in service of the state or international conferences (though
Star Trek offers its share of these). Rather, it includes any attempt by a
political ‘us’ to come to terms with ‘strangers,’ ‘Others’ at the borders
(or even ‘the frontier’).
Through its leitmotif of diplomacy, Star Trek speaks to political
discourses of foreign policy by offering a fictional account of a non-fictional
essential political issue: how to manage relations of separation. By
studying diplomacy in DSC as the most recent iteration of a long-running
and highly popular franchise, we seek insights into the politics of Star
Trek in our time. What does DSC suggest to its viewers as the stakes in
managing ‘our’ relations to alien others? Revisiting Iver B. Neumann’s
earlier studies on diplomacy in Star Trek (Neumann, 2001, 2003), we
shall argue that DSC keeps the tradition of privileging a liberal ‘new
diplomacy’ with universal pretensions distinctive of Star Trek – but at a
time when this proposition has ceased to represent the consensus on the
principles of U.S. foreign policy. While earlier Star Trek shows reproduced,
and occasionally criticized U.S. representations of diplomacy (Neumann,
2001, 2003), DSC takes sides in a highly contested political debate to
reaffirm a once consensual but now seriously challenged, if not already
marginalized, political position.
A burgeoning field of research in the discipline of International
Relations (IR) posits that the fictional politics of popular culture have
implications for ‘real’ world politics – and how we can understand it.
The genre of science fiction holds a special quality for investigating
world politics. Science fiction ‘texts’ are ‘grounded in the same cultural
reservoir of meanings’ (Weldes, 2003, 15) as political discourses but
offer a sense of de-familiarization, estrangement, and extrapolation that
encourages a rethinking of political issues (Livingston, 1971; Saunders,
2015). Different approaches have emerged to conceptualize the ‘sci-fi/
world politics nexus’ (Carpenter, 2016), which can be split broadly into
positive approaches ‘using’ culture as data on or illustration of world
politics – and constitutive approaches according to which ‘popular
culture provides diffuse knowledge that people bring to bear on political
issues’ (Neumann and Nexon, 2006, 16) by informing, naturalizing, and
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 223

enabling social repertoires of meaning and action (Carpenter, 2016).3

Popular culture, in other words, makes politics by making meaning.
Constitutive approaches have mostly emphasized how popular culture
reproduces and so legitimizes prevailing political understandings (cf.
Erickson, 2007). The study of DSC, and Star Trek in general, suggests a
more independent role especially for long-running franchises in consti-
tuting the sci-fi/world politics nexus.
The following section revisits Neumann’s study of diplomacy in Star
Trek with a critical view on his depiction of the Star Trek/U.S. foreign
politics nexus. The first three sections discuss DSC’s reflection on different
paradigms of diplomacy and how these combine into a reaffirmation of
a universalist liberal ‘new diplomacy.’ We conclude by briefly discussing
the implications for the study of the sci-fi/world politics nexus.

Previously on Star Trek: Revisiting Neumann

A broad perspective on diplomacy has been applied to Star Trek as

‘America in space’ (Buzan, 2010) before – including studies of the frontier
myth in Star Trek (Kapell, 2016), the show’s liberalist underpinnings
(Weldes, 1999), and its implicit colonialism (Inayatullah, 2003), interven-
tionism (Lagon, 2011), and militarism (Hantke, 2014). Most explicitly,
however, Neumann has analyzed diplomacy in Star Trek – drawing
on, explicitly and implicitly, Der Derian’s understanding of diplomacy
(Neumann, 2001, 2003).4
According to Neumann, Star Trek reproduces two major U.S. represen-
tations of diplomacy that, combined, shape U.S. foreign policy. ‘Old
world’ diplomacy is represented as an instrument of the particu-
laristic reason of the state. In order to advance the national interest,
diplomacy in this sense relies on subterfuge and threats, persuasion
and, occasionally, force – covered in the perfunctory rituals, codes, and
symbols of a diplomatic culture originating from and conductive to the
power politics of the European state system. The ‘new diplomacy’ of the
American republic, by contrast, is dedicated to the universal interest of
all mankind – grounded in a liberal discourse of universal rationality
and universal rights (and obligations). This representation of diplomacy
drives the United States’ exceptional role in world politics: ‘If there exists

3
For recent categorizations see: Weber, 2014; Caso & Hamilton, 2015;
Carpenter, 2016.
4
The two publications differ only slightly in emphasis. We shall mostly refer
to the more recent iteration.
224 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

a universal rationality, and if the United States make a point of living

up to it by being a republic with universal significance, then the United
States is a model to the world’ (Neumann, 2003, 36).
U.S. foreign policy discourse and Star Trek both privilege ‘new
diplomacy’ as rational and progressive. Universal rationality is represented
to drive qualitative progress – the ‘betterment’ of individuals and
nations/planets alike – that will eventually overcome (rather than
mediate) estrangement. Universalist ‘new diplomacy,’ thus, is essentially
‘anti-diplomatic’ (cf. Der Derian, 134–52). In that sense, it is only
a matter of time that the Federation/United States will be loved by
everyone (Neumann, 2003). Meanwhile, however, it is, occasionally
and reluctantly, necessary to fall back on ‘old world’ diplomacy, which
sometimes requires even ambassadors to ‘grab a phaser’ (Neumann,
2001). U.S. foreign policy discourse, in other words, relies on combining
both representations and weighting them against each other. The uneasy
combination of anti-diplomatic rationalist universalism and accommo-
dating the structural requirement of ‘old world’ diplomacy characterizes
the ‘neo-diplomacy’ of revolutionary newcomers in the international
system (Der Derian, 1987, 134–98) such as the United States.
Star Trek, according to Neumann occasionally not only identifies
different U.S. representations of diplomacy but reflects on the surprising
closeness between seemingly irreconcilable understandings of diplomacy.
Here, Star Trek shows a critical and reflexive potential that sets it apart
from ‘run-of-the mill’ approaches to U.S. foreign policy in academic and
political discourses – and moves it beyond mere reproduction (Neumann,
2003, 48).
Neumann’s argument rests on his analysis of U.S. foreign policy
discourse. While his depiction of the distinctiveness of U.S. represen-
tations of diplomacy aligns with findings from the general theory of
diplomacy (cf. Der Derian, 1987), U.S. diplomacy and foreign policy
analysis (cf. Mead, 2002; Wisemann, 2011; Farrow, 2018), and studies
of U.S. exceptionalism (cf. Restad, 2014; Cha, 2015; Jansson, 2018),
the specifics are contingent on the time of his writing. Neumann’s
perspective on U.S. representations of diplomacy reflects the post-Cold
War consensus on U.S. foreign policy of the Bush Sr. and Clinton
administrations attempting to establish a new, liberal world order at the
‘end of history’ (Fukuyama, 1992) – in line with a post-Second World
War American internationalism writ large.

Bush’s New World Order and Clinton’s various formulations –

‘assertive humanitarianism,’ ‘selective engagement,’ ‘democratic
enlargement,’ ‘assertive multilateralism,’ ‘engagement and
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 225

enlargement’ – were all attempts to keep expansive US interna-

tionalism alive in the post-Soviet environment. They were also
efforts to articulate a foreign policy which looked beyond narrowly
conceived national interest. (Dumbrell, 2018, 108)

In other words, after the end of the Cold War, U.S. foreign policy and
diplomacy clearly privileged universalist diplomacy and an exceptionalist
foreign policy – but integrated it into ‘classical’ international diplomacy
through multilateral institutions. Ultimately, this consensus broke in the
wake of 9/11 (Schmidt, 2018). Since then, the foreign policy doctrines
and grand strategies of the Bush Jr., Obama, and Trump administrations
have deviated from the former consensus to different degrees – and
in various directions ranging from hyper-liberal neo-conservatism to
realism, Jeffersonianism and neo-isolationism (cf. Layne 2006; Miller,
2010; Lofflmann, 2015; Brands, 2017; Clarke and Ricketts, 2017; Walt,
2017; Beinart, 2018; Peterson, 2018).
The new doctrines have been driven by a number of domestic and
international challenges emerging in academic and political discourses.
Firstly, critics pointed to the ‘dark side of exceptionalism’ (Bacevich, 2002)
as unilateral and multilateral attempts to assert the new world order
brought mixed success and collateral damage – literally and figuratively –
that undermined its liberal principles. The promotion of universal values
came to be seen as ‘westoxification’ by some (Katzenstein and Keohane,
2007) and created ‘blowback’ by facilitating resistance against the universal
imposition of ‘Western values’ and U.S. imperialism (Johnson, 2000).
Secondly, U.S. foreign policy debate has seen a return of religion and myth
to foreign policy – to mytho- and proto-diplomacy (cf. Der Derian, 1987, 50,
68–72). This includes the growing political influence of the Christian right
(Marsden, 2011), the religious coding of world politics in the construction
of a Muslim Other (Bettiza, 2015; Zahid, 2016), or the invocation of lost
greatness and unity in Trump’s slogan ‘Make America Great Again.’
Thirdly, the return of great power politics with the rise of China and
Russia (cf. Allison, 2017) and of imperial overstretch (cf. Peterson, 2018)
with the dragged-out wars in Afghanistan and Iraq prompt debates on a
return to ‘old world’ particularistic diplomacy of managing an international
balance of power system and entering into reciprocal diplomatic relations
with actors such as the Taliban or ISIL (cf. Norland, 2019).
Where Neumann’s analysis of U.S. representations of diplomacy in
Star Trek reflected a post-Cold War consensus in U.S. foreign policy,
DSC is set against the background of a highly contested political playing
field – and antagonistic political and academic discourses on the size and
scope of the challenges confronting U.S. relations of separation.
226 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Binary Diplomacies

Building on the sense of estrangement that the Klingon introduction

creates (both, in terms of language and perspective), DSC’s pilot
juxtaposes a Klingon particularism (‘remain Klingon’) with a Federation
universalism (‘we come in peace’). The pilot offers a clash of different
paradigms of mediating estrangement – and a reflection on how to
manage relations of separation as the defining plot problem for the show’s
first season. Equality and freedom are the foundations of Federation law,
as a Federation admiral later in the show states in ‘The War Without, the
War Within’ (1x14) – making explicit that Star Trek has always mirrored
the (supposedly) self-evident and universal principles of the U.S. liberal
creed (cf. Weber, 1999). DSC introduces the view from the other side. For
the Klingons, equality and freedom are particular Federation principles
that undermine and negate Klingon identity: ‘Our purity is a threat to
them. They wish to drag us into the muck, where Humans, Vulcans,
Tellarites, and filthy Andorians mix’ (T’Kuvma, 1x01).
The racist undertones aside, DSC studiously vindicates the Klingon
perspective – even while inviting viewers to identify with its Starfleet
protagonists and their belief in the Federation’s universal mission.
The second scene of the pilot introduces Captain Georgiou (Michelle
Yeoh) and Commander Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green, the show’s
designated protagonist) as saving an ‘underdeveloped’ species from the
effects of a cosmic mining accident. The Federation proves itself as an
‘indispensable nation’ – interfering, doing the morally ‘right’ thing even
if it is against its own law. In this case, they violate the Federation’s
prime directive, which prohibits contact in order to protect indigenous
cultural development – all in the name of saving lives and justified by
good intentions: ‘we come in peace.’ The righteousness of representing
universal values, later, is shown to drive Burnham’s insistence on investi-
gating an unknown object at the Klingon border, which she justifies with
the mission ‘to discover, to explore’ – or in the self-assuredness with
which Captain Georgiou requires the Klingons to either enter dialogue
or leave the location of an ancient Klingon artefact.
The Klingons are shown to take this insistence on ‘disinterested’
exploration as proof of Federation interference, expansionism and
hypocrisy – as illustrated by the scene immediately preceding the titular
‘Battle of the Binary Stars’ (1x02):

T’Kuvma [listening to a Federation message aboard the Klingon

flagship with House leaders in attendance]: ‘Here it comes, their lie.’
Captain Georgiou: ‘… we come in peace.’
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 227

T’Kuvma: ‘No! They do not! They come to destroy our individuality.

Shall we rise up together and give them the fight they deserve?’
House Leaders: ‘Remain Klingon!’
T’Kuvma: ‘Fire!’ [Klingon ships open fire]

In this scene, the diplomatic problem of the ‘plural fact’ is showcased

as DSC’s plot problem: a universalist representation of diplomacy might
appear as just another particular interest – at least to ‘alien’ Others –
and even an expansionist and hypocritical one legitimating itself in
terms of a universalist ideology. Also, it indicates how a liberal univer-
salism dedicated to maintaining difference and diversity can appear as
a threat for parochial identities – and engender resistance. As DSC has
the Klingon leader L’Rell (Mary Chieffo) put it: ‘We fight to preserve
Klingon identity. … [T]he Federation cannot help itself. It seeks universal
homogenization and assimilation’ (1x14). On a deeper level, DSC points
to the anti-diplomatic aspects of a universal representation of diplomacy:
agents of universal truths do not so much need to mediate estrangement,
but to transcend it – acting on the exceptional insight into the rights
and obligations of a higher (natural) law and aiming at a utopian state
beyond estrangement and separation (cf. Der Derian, 1987, 134–67).
As a tale of two diplomacies, DSC hits Neumann’s mark for progressive
Star Trek as it juxtaposes the two major representations of diplomacy
and addresses how they ironically overlap (cf. Neumann, 2003, 48). In
contrast to most former iterations of Star Trek, DSC treats this irony not
as an afterthought (mostly offered by a secondary character) but accords
it the center stage as the explicit plot driving conflict with either side
represented by major characters. In this, it reflects the contested state
of U.S. foreign policy and, in particular, the debate on the pathologies
of exceptionalism and the impending ‘end of diplomacy’ (Farrow, 2018).
But DSC’s pilot goes further than forwarding a critical over a merely
reproductive take on U.S./Star Trek representations of diplomacy. Not
only does it show the ironic similarities between the two major U.S.
representations of diplomacy and how this provokes interference and
resistance, but it makes contestation an explicit plot point taking the
form of a debate about proper diplomatic policy on the Discovery’s bridge
(i.e. the center of decision making). This is possibly the most explicit
departure from Star Trek’s utopian vision according to its creator Gene
Roddenberry, which anticipated a post-conflict enlightened society
(Hibbard, 2017) – and yet another comment on the contested state of
contemporary U.S. foreign affairs.
The debate takes the form of an argument between Captain Georgiou
holding on to a universalist idea of diplomacy and Commander Burnham
228 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

advocating a particularistic approach in dealing with the Klingons.

Georgiou insists that ‘we come in peace,’ that ‘Starfleet never fires first’
as a matter of principle, and that any conflict can be solved through
dialogue– even after the Klingons have appeared in force and the first
shots have been exchanged. Burnham, on the other hand, advises a
‘Vulcan Hello’ as a lesson from (the planet Vulcan’s) history. The ‘Vulcan
Hello’ means to shoot on sight whenever a Klingon ship is encountered.
The intention is nonetheless (old-world) diplomatic as it seeks to prompt
the Klingons into accepting a reciprocal relationship – even though
Burnham calls it a soldier’s view as opposed to Georgiou’s perspective
‘as a diplomat.’5
Burnham advises a particularistic diplomacy that corresponds to the
historical paradigm of classical European diplomacy as a secular and
reciprocal cultural practice to manage a system of states ‘united with and
against each other’ by an ‘equal and mutual estrangement and a complex
general balance of power’ (Der Derian, 1987, 113). It is also a paradigm
that as ‘continental realism’ is distinctively not American (Mead, 2002,
35–41). Burnham proposes to replace the universal representation of
diplomacy privileged by the Federation with a particularistic diplomacy
based on the principle of reciprocity. As Neumann reminds us, Star Trek
is sensitive to the ‘historical fact’ (sic) that diplomacy comes at a cost
of at least one side having to compromise on its identity and ‘erases
specificity’ (Neumann, 2003, 47). Against the narrative grain of Star Trek,
Burnham’s proposal requires the Federation to become estranged from
itself in order to mediate estrangement from the Klingons. Consequently,
in symbolic terms, the only way to implement her proposal, ultimately,
is a mutiny.
Her superiors, including Captain Georgiou, by contrast, insist on the
Federation’s universalist diplomacy. And yet, they are not inclined to
retreat (as advised by Commander Saru (Doug Jones)) but are willing
to defend the Federation’s (particularistic) territorial claims. They also
address the problem of ‘unknowns’ in mediating estrangement, the
irrational trust in the Other required by any first attempt at diplomacy
(Der Derian, 1987, 144), as they point out how the realpolitik approach
of the ‘Vulcan Hello’ relies on worst-case thinking. Their insistence on
Federation principles, thus, is shown not as a case of blind idealism,
but aware of the dangers of first contact. Diplomacy originates from
encounters only when heralds and messengers are excepted from the
general injunction to kill and eat all outsiders (cf. Sharp, 2009, 17) –
something that the Federation in DSC’s pilot accidentally fails to do

5
A classical dichotomy in diplomacy studies and IR (cf. Aron, 1966).
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 229

(Burnham kills the ‘torchbearer’) and the Klingons outright ignore – up

to the point of eating Captain Georgiou (1x04).
However, the Federation is shown to hold a neo-diplomatic and
exceptionalist worldview. At the frontier between civilization and
wilderness (rather than a border between civilizations), the represent-
atives of universal civilization decide unilaterally on the conditions
of interaction – against all evidence of being in the territory of a
foreign people and against the diplomatic principle of reciprocity (i.e.
requesting the Klingons to parley or to leave a system with an ancient
Klingon artefact). It is a worldview that also implies a liberal model
of civilizational progress – which requires alien Others to accept the
standard of civilization as a precondition to reciprocal diplomatic
relations. DSC both subverts and subtly reaffirms this worldview as
Burnham explicitly points to Klingon ‘nature’ (rather than ‘culture’)
as an impediment for diplomatic talks and advises to literally force
the Klingons into accepting the Federation’s understanding rather than
relying on cultural progress.
DSC’s pilot, thus, offers a reflection on the contested state of
U.S. foreign policy as its proponents debate the challenges of newly
emerging great powers, and the limited success of exporting universal
liberal values by force – and how a universalist diplomacy cum liberal
exceptionalism may not only be inconveniently close to the rejected ‘old
world’ diplomacy of the national interest, but also engenders resistance
and a blowback.6

Remain Klingon: Mytho-Diplomacy in Star Trek: Discovery

The Klingon approach to mediating estrangement in DSC’s first season is

loaded with religious terminology pointing to yet another paradigm of
diplomacy: mytho-diplomacy. It refers to the mediation of estrangement
between man and God and between man and man through sacred
symbols and rituals (Der Derian, 1987, 50). The fear of death (by
nature or by strangers) is transferred to the atemporal plane of religious
belief and mediated through rituals, sacrifices and ceremonies – mostly
worshipping a super-societal figure (Der Derian, 1987, 50). Religiously
defined rights and obligations form the core of a particular cultural
identity, confer political power to priests and divine monarchs, and are
also projected outwards onto other peoples (Der Derian, 1987, 52).

6
Cf. also the latest movie Star Trek: Beyond (2016) featuring ‘This is where
the frontier pushes back’ as its antagonist’s signature line.
230 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Thus, mytho-diplomacy is also particularistic, but different from

the ‘narrow’ realpolitik diplomacy (as offered by Burnham) as it is
non-reciprocal and one-sided. For ‘mytho-diplomats’ God is always
on their side, heathens must be converted, and estrangement fixed
through ritual – which is mytho-diplomacy’s ongoing legacy for modern
diplomacy (Der Derian, 1987, 57). A universalist representation of
(neo-)diplomacy, for example, also shows mytho-diplomatic traits as
it grounds its one-sided and non-reciprocal approach to mediating
estrangement in a myth of universal values. The often religiously coded
and loaded mythology of liberal U.S. exceptionalism (the ‘city upon a
hill’) illustrates this mythological side of ‘new diplomacy.’
The encounter of Klingon mytho-diplomacy and Federation
neo-diplomacy, thus, is a clash between two empires that are founded
on exclusive belief systems. Each postulates its paramountcy and
cannot recognize differing values and interests. Indeed, suzerainties
commonly assert their identity by alienating internal division to another
suzerainty (Der Derian, 1987, 122). The combination of non-recognition
and alienation is distinctive of DSC’s depiction of the Klingons. In the
Klingons, DSC reimagines the medieval and early-modern Papacy’s
proto-diplomacy of appealing to a lost greatness and mythical unity
of Christianity against a Muslim Other as an attempt to manage an
emerging system of mutually estranged and increasingly secular feudal
states (Der Derian, 1987, 104).
DSC abounds with mytho-diplomatic references. The pilot introduces
the Klingon leader T’Kuvma as a self-anointed ‘next Klingon messiah’
(1x01). T’Kuvma attempts to restore the unity of the Klingon Empire
against the feudal houses by reviving a common Klingon Creed centered
on worshipping the legendary unifier Kahless. He rests his claim to
political leadership over all Klingons on his mytho-diplomatic proficiency
as a priest of the cult of Kahless, which transcends any feudal obligations
to a particular House: ‘My house is open to all’ (1x02).
This proficiency is demonstrated in his knowledge of how to ‘light
the beacon’ – activating an ancient artefact that signals a danger to the
Empire and rallies the houses in defense. The artefact itself, though
technical in nature, is described in decidedly mythological terms,
requiring a ceremonial guardian (the ‘torchbearer’), and appearing as
a ‘new star’ instantly visible across galactic distances. Also, T’Kuvma is
proficient in funeral rites, which he meticulously applies in the wake
of battle. From a mytho-diplomatic perspective, the priest does not only
reproduce cultural identity by ritually mediating the boundary between
life and death. He or she is also politically mandated to safeguard and
defend it. T’Kuvma’s mandate is vindicated by his mastery of the ‘Ship
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 231

of the Dead.’ This spaceship is a powerful mytho-diplomatic symbol.

Decked in the sarcophagi of Klingon warriors from all ages, it signifies the
transcendental identity of the Klingon civilization itself because ‘society
itself comes to represent the transcendence of individual mortality;
invested with the codified information of ancestors, it perpetuates a
collective cultural consciousness’ (Der Derian, 1987, 52).
Restaging the history of mytho- and proto-diplomacy, T’Kuvma
does not recognize the Federation as equal but sets it up as a threat to
Klingon identity – an identity that obviously is already jeopardized by
internal division and secularism. The leaders of the different houses are
visibly reluctant to subordinate themselves to T’Kuvma’s leadership and
openly ridicule his religious zeal. By presenting a common enemy who
embodies a universalizing ideology and who itself will not and cannot
recognize differing values, T’Kuvma offers an existential threat – and
a paradigm to organize around. A holy war against the Federation is
the mytho- and para-diplomatic means to restore Klingon unity and
lost greatness.
In the story of T’Kuvma’s crusade, DSC offers a subversion of Star
Trek’s concept of civilizational and technological progress that is closely
linked to its representations of diplomacy. This resembles a three-tiered
model of U.S. exceptionalism that sees the United States as the endpoint
of civilizational progress (Cha, 2015). In Star Trek, reciprocal diplomacy
is a first step that leads to eventually transcending estrangement (and
loving the Federation). But entering into diplomatic relations (with the
Federation) already requires a conforming standard of civilization. This
standard depends on a specific level of technology – to travel faster than
light – which is linked to a notion of scientific progress (Neumann,
2003, 38). Many Star Trek episodes explicitly address religion and myth
as superstitions impeding scientific progress and, consequently, social
progress towards the ‘normal’ standard of civilization embodied by the
Federation. In this sense, Star Trek represents a rational anti-mythic
version of the U.S. frontier myth (Kapell, 2016, 145–49). Debunking
false utopias based on superstition and setting stagnant religious societies
back on the track of scientific progress is the most frequent trope in the
original series (Kapell, 2016, 149).
In offering a story about the politics of myth as the anachronistic
return of religion to Klingon diplomacy, DSC undermines the liberal
representation of civilizational progress as working ultimately in favor of
universal diplomacy. The writers’ choice of the Klingons emphasizes this
subversion. The Klingons take a special place in Star Trek’s progressive
future history of diplomacy. They are, according to Neumann, ‘liminars’
in terms of diplomatic commensurability – a warlike species barely
232 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

meeting the civilizational requirements for diplomacy. Star Trek tells,

across many iterations, the story of ‘taming’ the Klingons, bringing
them increasingly into the fold of Federation universalist diplomacy
(Neumann, 2003, 42–43).
By offering a mytho-diplomatic (and para-diplomatic) perspective
through Klingon eyes, DSC invites reflection on the mythological quality
of the Federation’s universalist ‘American’ diplomacy. DSC gives an
account of the complex dynamics of the politics of religion, especially
pointing to the dialectics between producing cultural identity by creating
an ‘alien Other’ that abets radical fundamentalism and ‘crusades.’ This
represents a turn away from Star Trek’s notion of history as a linear
progress from mythology to rationality. In the revival of the Klingon
Creed, mytho-diplomacy is represented not so much as an anachronism
but as a timeless paradigm to mediate estrangement that might resurface
at any time to challenge seemingly more progressive representations
of diplomacy – either the realpolitik of the ‘Vulcan Hello’ or the
neo-diplomacy of ‘we come in peace.’ DSC, thus, offers a reflection on
the ongoing political relevance of quasi-religious myths. Be it in terms
of ‘Remain Klingon’ or ‘Make America Great Again,’ the appeal to a
lost unity and greatness is shown as an instrument to mobilize political
support, offer identification, and project an exceptional status abroad.
By unveiling its contingent, ‘constructed’ character, DSC also rejects any
easy essentialism in understanding the dynamics of cultural clashes and
identity politics.

The War Within – Universalism Redeemed

The setup of DSC’s first season focuses on how the ‘new diplomacy’
approach of the Federation is contested by particularistic diplomacies –
either the realpolitik of Burnham’s dissident ‘Vulcan Hello’ or Klingon
mytho-diplomacy. But, true to Star Trek’s legacy, DSC also offers an
answer to this challenge – a take-home moral of the story. This moral
basically is, as we argue, that a universalist liberal diplomacy should be
privileged.
The first lesson DSC teaches about diplomacy is that going down the
road of a particularistic diplomacy (including war against the Klingons)
in the guise of universalism ultimately undermines universalist values.
It is a lesson taught by the U.S.S. Discovery’s detour to the Mirror
Universe (MU). The MU is a basically evil version of the original Star
Trek universe – including evil doppelganger characters. The Federation
is replaced by the militarist and fascist Terran Empire. The diplomacy
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 233

of the Empire is particularistic to the extreme – it recognizes neither

reciprocity nor equality in its relations of separation. Estrangement is
not mediated but eradicated as the xenophobic Terrans conquer, enslave,
or extinguish strange new worlds. The Empire is, as Hantke suggests,
both a ‘reverse affirmation’ of core liberal values represented in Star
Trek, and a means to disclose the moral hypocrisy of militarized U.S.
foreign policy (Hantke, 2014, 568).
DSC uses doppelganger characters from the MU to show how easily
the liberal universalism of the Federation is subverted in times of crisis.
Captain Lorca (Jason Isaacs) of the U.S.S. Discovery is a doppelganger
who has replaced his original version under cover to become a decorated
war hero in the original universe – one of few Starfleet officers there to
succeed in the war against the Klingons. Free of the Federation’s moral
restrictions, he can do whatever seems necessary to win the war, i.e. he
is press-ganging unwilling scientists and engineers into contributing to the
war effort and enslaving a sentient life-form to navigate the spore drive.
Lorca thus co-opts and distorts Starfleet’s mission of scientific exploration
as he makes explicit in ‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s
Cry:’ ‘The Discovery is no longer a science vessel’ (1x04). Another doppel-
ganger, Emperor Georgiou, convinces Starfleet Command that the only
way to win the war against the Klingon is a genocidal plan to destroy
the Klingon home world (getting a career with a Federation secret service
in return). Both characters exhibit a moral ruthlessness incompatible
with the Federation’s liberal values and universalist diplomacy – which a
Federation at the brink of defeat readily accepts according to a reasoning
in terms of ends over means. The doppelganger stories in DSC, thus, are
an allegoric tale that points to the vulnerability of universal liberal values
and diplomacy. It is a Star Trek version of the proven trope that accepting
necessary evils eventually undermines what is supposed to be protected.
When Burnham and the crew of the U.S.S. Discovery stand up against
Starfleet Command and reject Emperor Georgiou’s plan for genocide, DSC
manifests its moral for season one. A universalist diplomacy must not be
compromised by particularistic national interest – even in its defense. Or
it risks to become a dark mirror version of itself: an extreme particularism
like the Terran Empire’s, rather than a neo-diplomacy that can accept
reciprocity and compromise on the way to transcending estrangement.
It takes another mutiny by Burnham and the crew to remind Starfleet
Command of the Federation’s universalist creed ‘we come as friends.’
This time, however, the mutiny is keeping up Federation values –
as opposed to Burnham’s first mutiny. It prompts Starfleet and the
Federation to renew their pledge of universalist diplomacy. Estrangement
from the Klingon will not be ‘mediated’ by genocide.
234 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

This leads to the second moral lesson DSC teaches. Again, it is

deeply committed to a universalist representation of diplomacy and a
‘new diplomacy.’ Burnham experiences that Klingons are capable of a
basically universalist diplomacy. Again, it is a lesson from the MU. There,
resistance against the Empire is led by the so-called ‘Firewolf,’ none other
than Mirror Voq (Shazad Latif), who has been the prophet T’Kuvma’s
stoutest follower in DSC’s original universe. Where the original Voq is
a religious zealot who seeks to continue T’Kuvma’s crusade to ‘Remain
Klingon,’ by contrast, Mirror Voq leads a coalition of different species
(including founding species of the original Federation) in a common
fight against the Empire. The roles of Humans and Klingons, thus, are
reversed in the MU, with the Klingons leading a coalition that transcends
estrangement between different species. Even though it is not based on
a universalist representation of diplomacy, but the realpolitik logic of
alliances against common enemies – Mirror Voq engages at the least in
a kind of extended reciprocity as leader of a multispecies coalition. The
Klingons, demonstrably, are not warlike by nature but by culture, and
can be brought into the folds of diplomacy.
This point is further underlined by the character of (original) Voq.
In the aftermath of the Battle of the Binary Stars, Voq is biologically
and psychologically altered to take the identity of a killed Federation
officer, Ash Tyler, and planted as sleeper agent onboard Discovery. Note
that one of the oldest definitions of diplomat is ‘honorable spy’ (Der
Derian, 1987, 2). Tyler/Voq’s character development takes several turns,
but ultimately shifts his allegiances to the Federation and, consequently,
even purging the Voq-side from his consciousness (though the attempt
does not fully succeed). The reformed Tyler (sans Voq) then provides
Discovery’s crew topographical intelligence necessary for the destruction
of the Klingon homeworld. Tyler, retaining memories of Voq and his
knowledge of Klingon culture and language, becomes a hybrid, walking
between both worlds. He dedicates himself to keeping the Federation
safe – which leads him first to accept a position as advisor to the Klingon
chancellor and later a career with the Federation’s secret service. If the
stoutest follower of T’Kuvma’s ideology of ‘Remain Klingon’ can turn
to Federation’s values, who cannot? In order to facilitate and symbolize
Voq/Tyler’s turn to the Federation, DSC has him even fall in love with
Burnham – and out of love with the Klingon spy master L’Rell, who
transformed him into a hybrid in the first place.
Reflecting one of the graver concerns of any diplomatic (and secret)
service, Voq/Tyler identifies too much with his target and ‘goes native.’
From the perspective of the Federation’s (or any) universalistic diplomacy,
however, this attests to the universal appeal and validity of its values.
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 235

DSC, thus, reaffirms the core of the Federation’s U.S. representation of

diplomacy: to know it, is, given time, to love it – and wanting to become
like it (Neumann, 2003, 45).
Of course, not all Klingons can or will embrace the Federation’s
universalism – at least not immediately. Civilizational progress takes
time and, under conditions of separation, reciprocal diplomacy will be
necessary for the time being. The character development of L’Rell, in
turn, is tied to the solution of the season’s plot problem of diplomacy. At
first, her zealotry is similar to T’Kuvma’s, but in ‘Into the Forest I Go,’
she expresses unease with the dishonorable behavior of the Klingons
(1x09). In the final episode of the first season, Burnham offers her
control of the planet-busting device planted by Starfleet, which L’Rell
accepts. By threatening to destroy her homeworld, L’Rell uses this gift
to seize leadership of the Empire and ends the war with the Federation.
The second season has her engaging in a co-operative effort by the
Federation and the Klingons to destroy an artificial intelligence bent on
eradicating all life across the universe – a diplomatic step even beyond
peaceful co-existence to co-operation.
This plot development reimagines an important link between the
rational anti-diplomatic utopianism underlying ‘new diplomacy’ and
the ‘old world’ practice of classical diplomacy: ‘The ‘first’ diplomat
must commit a highly irrational act when he decides to parley with
rather than kill an enemy’ (Der Derian, 1987, 144). By forgoing the
power to destroy the Klingon homeworld, Burnham instigates a ritual
exchange of gifts, planet-buster against peace – and on a symbolic level
the mutual recognition of insecurity (Der Derian, 1987, 41) – that
transforms the naked exercise of power into a ritual normalizing and
rationalizing her act of trust as a first step towards reciprocal diplomacy
between the Klingons and the Federation: A first step on the ladder
of progress towards embracing the universal values embodied by the
Federation – which is vindicated by the Klingon’s co-operativeness in
the second season (cf. (2x03, ‘Point of Light’; 2x12, ‘Valley of Shadows’;
2x14, ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 2’).7
On the level of character development, DSC tells us stories of becoming
‘first’ diplomats – most notably in Burnham, but also in Tyler/Voq and
L’Rell. Star Trek, according to Neumann, typically relies on equating
individual progress with social progress (Neumann, 2003). While this

7
The final episode of season one also had a scene with Klingon and
Federation representatives signing a peace treaty – engaging in an act of
formal diplomacy, which was cut from the broadcast version (Korporaal,
2018).
236 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

can be in part explained by the narrative economics of a television

show focused on its characters, there are more fundamental reasons in
the notion of qualitative progress privileged by Star Trek. The focus on
individuals ‘growing’ with experiences is a liberal legacy of the universalist
U.S. representation of diplomacy. Individuals only change in the sense of
having learned something that makes them ‘better’ people – which in
turn leads to social and political progress, i.e. embracing the Federation’s
universal values (Neumann, 2003).
DSC in its first season plot thus combines typical tropes of Star Trek
into an explicit reaffirmation of U.S. ‘new diplomacy’ privileging a liberal
universal over a particularistic representation of diplomacy – which in
former iterations has mostly been reproduced without much reflection.
It does so at a time when this privilege has become highly contested in
U.S. foreign policy discourses. And it appeals to personal learning as a
way to overcome the supposed dangers and impossibilities imposed by
encountering strangers under conditions of separation.

Conclusion and Implications

Our discussion of diplomacy in DSC shows that this latest iteration of the
Star Trek franchise reproduces major U.S. representations of diplomacy
only in a very general sense. As central tenets of U.S. foreign policy and
diplomacy have become essentially contested in political and academic
discourses, and as supposedly anachronistic paradigms of diplomacy –
ranging from power politics to the return of mythology – are seeing a
political revival, DSC offers an estranged and de-familiarized picture of
a domestic political debate. Neumann’s conclusion on Star Trek therefore
still holds 20 years later – only that there is no longer a consensus to be
reproduced, but a political context of sometimes antagonistic dispute and
contestation on the past, present, and future of U.S. foreign relations. A
longstanding consensus of U.S. diplomacy as privileging a universalist
liberal understanding has become challenged if not already marginalized.
What Neumann found in the early 2000s in Star Trek – occasional
subversion and critique – can be said to be the new normal in U.S.
foreign policy discourse. Consequently, we found an explicit reflection of
political contest around different representations of diplomacy, including
‘old world’ power politics, liberal neo-diplomacy, and mytho- cum
para-diplomacy, at the center of DSC’s first season.
DSC solves its plot problem of challenges to an idealized U.S./
Star Trek universalist neo-diplomacy by moving from re-production to
re-production, to reaffirmation, in other words. DSC rejects alternative,
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 237

and particularistic, modes of mediating estrangement by explicitly

reaffirming a ‘new diplomacy’ that aims to overcome estrangement.
It, ironically, subverts U.S. foreign policy discourse by reproducing
and relegitimizing a once consensual, but now contested represen-
tation of diplomacy. DSC’s reaffirmation of new diplomacy, however, is
not blind. The pilot offers a balanced debate on the relative merits of
particularistic and universalist paradigms of diplomacy. But ultimately,
the first season’s finale is clear in combining the protagonist’s personal
redemption with ‘normalizing’ the relations of separation to the Klingons
through ‘classical’ diplomatic relations of reciprocity. In Star Trek’s notion
of progress, this establishes a ‘normal’ civilizational evolution that,
ultimately, will integrate the Klingons into the Federation’s cosmopolitan
community of peoples. Consequently, season two of DSC normalizes
the Klingons by reintroducing their established look (hair) and iconic
design of their latter (and more co-operative) iterations – and includes
them in the reciprocal diplomacy of (secret) power politics (2x03) and
co-operation (2x12, 2x14).
DSC suggests that a constitutive perspective on popular culture and
world politics cannot be limited ex ante to a study of reproduction,
with popular culture mostly mirroring the state of politics. Rather,
works of popular culture should be treated as political statements in
their own right directed towards a citizen-audience – particularly in
times of political dissent. Most constitutive studies emphasize the social
construction of world politics in popular culture as outcome rather
than process (Carpenter, 2016, 57–58). Such studies mostly tend to
give only passing mention to the dynamic politics of popular culture in
their analytical frame. However, culture is not static ‘but composed of
potentially contested codes and representations; it designates a field on
which battles over meaning are fought’ (Weldes, 2003, 6).
Works of (U.S.) popular culture, in other words, do not simply ‘evoke
dominant U.S. cultural norms, but they also either implicitly or explicitly
represent, and at times embrace, the cultural norms held by counter-
cultures in the United States’ (Erickson, 2007, 201–02). What is lost
in the attempt to fix the meaning of culture rather than mapping the
battles fought over it, is popular culture’s potential to be openly critical
or subversive vis-à-vis dominant political representations – including the
reaffirmation of once consensual but now contested representations. The
study of DSC as the latest iteration of a franchise running for nearly six
decades and still going strong indicates that items of popular culture may
add persistence to political positions. In order to evaluate the politics
of franchises (and reimaginations) further studies beyond Star Trek are
required.
238 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

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Mark P. Lagon, ‘“We Owe It to Them to Interfere”: Star Trek and
U.S. Statecraft in the 1960s and the 1990s’, in Donald M. Hassler and
Clyde Wilcox (eds.) Political Science Fiction (Columbia: University of South
Carolina Press, 2011): 234–50.
Christopher Layne, The Peace of Illusions: American Grand Strategy from 1940 to
the Present (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006).
Dennis Livingston, ‘Science Fiction Models of Future World Order Systems’,
International Organization, 25.2 (1971): 254–70.
Georg Lofflmann, ‘Leading from Behind – American Exceptionalism and
President Obama’s Post-American Vision of Hegemony’, Geopolitics, 20.2
(2015): 308–32.
Lee Marsden, ‘Religion, Identity and American Power in the Age of Obama’,
International Politics, 48.2–3 (2011): 326–43.
Walter Russell Mead, Special Providence: American Foreign Policy and How It
Changed the World (New York: Routledge, 2002).
Benjamin Miller, ‘Explaining Changes in US Grand Strategy: 9/11, the
Rise of Offensive Liberalism, and the War in Iraq’, Security Studies, 19.1
(2010): 26–65.
Iver B. Neumann, ‘“Grab a Phaser, Ambassador”: Diplomacy in Star Trek’,
Millennium, 30.3 (2001): 603–24.
—— ‘“To Know Him Was to Love Him. Not to Know Him Was to Love Him
from Afar”: Diplomacy in Star Trek’, in Jutta Weldes (ed.) To Seek out New
Worlds. Science Fiction and World Politics (New York: Palgrave Macmillan,
2003): 31–52.
—— and Daniel H. Nexon, ‘Introduction: Harry Potter and the Study of
World Politics’, in Daniel H. Nexon and Iver B. Neumann (eds.) Harry
Potter and International Relations (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield,
2006): 1–26.
240 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

John Peterson, ‘Present at the Destruction? The Liberal Order in the Trump
Era’, International Spectator, 53.1 (2018): 28–44.
Hilde Restad, American Exceptionalism: An Idea That Made a Nation and Remade
the World (London and New York: Routledge, 2014).
Robert Saunders, ‘Imperial Imaginaries: Employing Science Fiction to
Talk About Geopolitics’, in Frederica Caso and Caitlin Hamilton (eds.)
Popular Culture and World Politics. Theories, Methods, Pedagogies (Bristol:
E-international Relations, 2015): 149–59.
Brian Schmidt, ‘Theories of US Foreign Policy’, in Michael Cox (ed.) US
Foreign Policy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018): 5–20.
Paul Sharp, Diplomatic Theory of International Relations (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2009).
Stephen M. Walt, ‘The Global Consequences of Trump’s Incompetence’,
Foreign Policy, 18 July (2017).
Cynthia Weber, International Relations Theory, 4th ed. (London and New
York: Routledge, 2014).
Jutta Weldes, ‘Going Cultural: Star Trek, State Action, and Popular Culture’,
Millennium-Journal of International Studies, 28.1 (1999): 117–34.
—— ‘Popular Culture, Science Fiction, and World Politics: Exploring
Intertextual Relations’, in Jutta Weldes (ed.) To Seek out New Worlds. Science
Fiction and World Politics (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003): 1–27.
Geoffrey Wiseman, ‘Distinctive Characteristics of American Diplomacy’, The
Hague Journal of Diplomacy, 6.3–4 (2011): 235–59.
Zahid Mehmood Zahid, ‘U.S.A. Versus “Them”: Fomenting an Enemy for
the Hegemonic Discourse’, Ipri Journal, 16.2 (2016): 105–18.

Episodes and Films Cited

‘The Vulcan Hello.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller and
Akiva Goldsman, directed by David Semel, CBS Television Studios,
24  September, 2017.
‘Battle at the Binary Stars.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Adam Kane, CBS Television Studios,
24  September, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 8 October, 2017.
‘Into the Forest I Go.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon Kim and Erika
Lippoldt, directed by Chris Byrne, CBS Television Studios, 12 November,
2017.
‘Point of Light.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Andrew Colville, directed by
Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 31 January, 2019.
‘Through the Valley of Shadows.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon
Kim and Erika Lippoldt, directed by Doug Aarniokoski, CBS Television
Studios, 4 April, 2019.
 U.S. DIPLOMACY IN STAR TREK: DISCOVERY 241

‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part 2.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Michelle Paradise,
Jenny Lumet, and Alex Kurtzman, directed by Olatunde Osunsanmi,
CBS Television Studios, 18 April, 2019.

Star Trek: Beyond. 2016. Directed by Justin Lin. Paramount Pictures.

 ‘Into A Mirror Darkly’
Border Crossing and Imperial(ist) Feminism in
Star Trek: Discovery
Judith Rauscher

Through all the good that we are now or could produce, or the
evil that we may consciously or unconsciously tolerate, humanity
yearns for revelations of itself. With the curiosity of the sentient,
we are always fascinated by our reflection and SF provides mirrors
that stretch to either end of our existence. (Kerslake, 2007, 1–2)

In this essay, I examine the faces of imperial(ist) feminism as imagined by

the CBS series Star Trek: Discovery (DSC) (2017–ongoing). DSC represents
several different manifestations of imperial feminism, each of them
embodied by one of the show’s primary female characters. In my
analysis, I focus on the geographical border crossing in the series
and the figurative border crossings it engenders. The most significant
geographical border crossing occurs when, in the first season, the crew
of the U.S.S. Discovery jumps to the so-called Mirror Universe, which is
dominated by the fascist Terran Empire, and then returns to the Prime
Universe, which in the meantime has been devastated by a war between
the Federation and the Klingons. I argue that DSC is a feminist text, in
which two very different post-feminist futures collide and eventually
seep into each other, forcing the female characters to explore what they
are willing to do to gain power and to ensure victory for their side. In the
future represented by the Mirror Universe, the empowerment of women
depends on their integration into totalitarian militaristic structures that
rely on openly imperialist and racist ideologies. In the future represented
by the Prime Universe, the position of every individual in the United
Federation of Planets – regardless of gender or race – is determined by
democratic ideals of universal liberty and equality, at least in principle.
By contrasting these two possible futures and by intermingling them
through instances of border crossing, DSC speaks to the idea, expressed
by some transnational feminists, that promoting diversity without an
explicitly anti-imperialist stance is not enough. What is more, through

243
244 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

its complex treatment of gender politics together with questions of

race and imperialism, the series responds to the changed social and
political climate in the United States during its production. Specifically,
it responds to the return to the mainstream political and cultural arena
of discourses promoting ethnic nationalism and white supremacy.

Border Crossing and the Women of Star Trek’s Mirror Universe

Gene Roddenberry famously based the original Star Trek series (1966–1969)
on ideals of equality, universal liberty, and peaceful collaboration.1 Yet, as
scholars have repeatedly pointed out, the franchise – with its premise of
a ‘Wagon Train to the Stars’ led by Starfleet, the Federation’s exploration
and defense service – undeniably also carries imperialist undertones (cf.
Inayatullah, 2003; Kanzler, 2004; Pounds, 2011; Hassler-Forrest, 2016;
Cutler-Broyles, 2017). These imperialist undertones are inextricably
linked to the recurring theme of geographical border crossing. Border
crossing in Star Trek is a plot device that opens up new spheres of action
for characters but also induces them to cross figurative borders, whether
those drawn by official Federation regulations or by personal moral
convictions. For female characters in previous Star Trek series border
crossing has frequently constituted an ambiguous emancipatory gesture,
the most famous example being Captain Janeway (Kate Mulgrew) of Star
Trek: Voyager (1995–2001; cf. Roberts, 2000; Relke, 2006; Dove-Viehbahn,
2007). On the one hand, U.S.S. Voyager’s removal to the Delta Quadrant
frees Janeway from Starfleet structures of command and by consequence
from the patriarchal logic of earlier Star Trek series, situating her instead
in what one might call with Teresa de Lauretis ‘patriarchy’s space-off’
(Burnham, 1993, 65). At the same time, this ‘space-off’ literally and
figuratively remains a space apart from the common Star Trek universe
of the Alpha Quadrant. The Mirror Universe too constitutes such a space
apart for female characters in Star Trek.
The function of the Mirror Universe in Star Trek is an ambiguous
one, especially when it comes to spatialized representations of women’s
emancipation. First introduced in the episode ‘Mirror, Mirror’ of
The Original Series (TOS) during the 1960s, the Mirror Universe is an
alternative reality that exists in a parallel dimension relative to the

1
For an examination of the ways in which DSC is connected to and influenced
by the founding ideals and historical context of the Star Trek franchise,
see Torsten Kathke’s essay ‘A Star Trek About Being Star Trek: History,
Liberalism, and Discovery’s Cold War Roots’ in this volume.
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 245

so-called Prime Universe, in which all the Star Trek series are set.
Among all possible alternative universes, the Mirror Universe is special
because references in mirror episodes such as Deep Space Nine’s (DS9)
‘Shattered Mirror’ or DSC’s ‘Vaulting Ambition’ to events from mirror
episodes from earlier series indicate that a direct link exists between
the Prime Universe and this particular alternative reality. The Mirror
Universe is also unique because, as Steffen Hantke argues, ‘at least in
its conception,’ it is the ‘diametrical reversal’ (2014, 562) of the Prime
Universe. Whether in TOS’s ‘Mirror, Mirror’ or in the longer mirror
storylines of DS9 and DSC, this logic of reversal has not only provided
writers with the opportunity to experiment with ‘dark’ versions of
established Prime Universe characters (see the title of the two-part ENT
episode ‘In a Mirror Darkly’ alluded to in the essay’s title), it has also
allowed them to contrast different political systems and ideologies along
with the racial and gender politics underpinning them.
In contrast to the Prime Universe, the Mirror Universe is ruled by
the Terran Empire, an ultra-violent, hyper-nationalist and racist totali-
tarian regime. Ever since TOS, representations of the Terran Empire
have been Orientalizing and replete with allusions to antiquity as well
as the Third Reich (Hantke, 2014, 566), featuring scenes of decadence
and violence as well as set and costume design that would be familiar to
fans of classical Hollywood sword-and-sandals films. The visual rhetoric
of DSC’s Mirror Universe, too, borrows from these older filmic traditions.
At the same time, it also references more recent depictions of empires
on screen. The throne room on the Terran flag ship I.S.S. Charon, for
example, was not only inspired by the futuristic Bund Finance Center in
Shanghai, as noted on After Trek (1x12, ‘Episode 12’), it also resembles
the throne room of King’s Landing from HBO’s Game of Thrones (GoT)
(2011–2019), creating a design that associates DSC’s Terran Empire with
one of the U.S.’s greatest non-Western economic rivals as well as with
pre-republican royalism. Another similarity between DSC and GoT is
telling in the context of my argument about imperial(ist) feminism: in
both shows powerful and outright ruthless women are at the forefront of
their respective ‘empires,’ raising questions about female empowerment
and the violence necessary to achieve and maintain it.2

2
As Dan Hassler-Forrest suggests in his reading of the Star Trek franchise
based on Hardt and Negri’s notion of ‘Empire’ as the dominant form of global
capitalism in the post-industrial era, TNG especially, but also the series
afterward not only have imperialist undertones, they also ‘illustrate larger
tensions specific to capitalism’s transition from imperialism to Empire’ (49)
by indulging in a ‘fantasy of peaceful and benevolent imperialism’ (50) that
remains moored in a ‘colonialist imperative and the “racist imaginary” it
246 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Women in Star Trek’s Mirror Universe have always been depicted

as hyper-sexualized versions of their Prime Universe counterparts, as
manifested, for example, in the revealing uniforms of female Terran
officers in TOS and Star Trek: Enterprise (ENT) (Cutler-Broyles 42; Hantke,
2014, 567). As problematic as such production choices are, represen-
tations of female empowerment in the mirror episodes have also helped
to expand the repertoire of roles available to women in the franchise.
While the only woman with a major role in TOS’s ‘Mirror Mirror’
is Marlena Moreau (Barbara Luna), Mirror Kirk’s (William Shatner)
mistress whose place in the empire’s social and political hierarchy is
largely determined by the logics of heteropatriarchy, the Mirror episodes
of ENT and DS9 depict female characters who are not merely ‘captain’s
women’ but female rulers. Both Terran Empress Hoshi Sato (Linda Park)
of ENT and Bajoran Alliance Intendant Kira Nerys (Nana Visitor) of DS9
use sex as well as murder to secure positions of power for themselves,
pointing to the possibilities but also the limits of female agency in the
Mirror Universe (Kanzler, 2004, 206–07). Mirror Hoshi – presented as
a mixture of captain’s woman and regular Terran officer – claims her
title of empress after poisoning her lover Mirror Archer (Scott Bakula)
in bed. Mirror Kira of DS9 also attains and maintains power through a
mixture of sexual(ized) manipulation and violence. Usually dressed in
dominatrix-style outfits, openly bisexual, and aggressively assertive, she
is representative for how non-heteronormative sexualities are deployed
as signs of moral deviance in Star Trek’s mirror episodes (Cutler-
Broyles, 2017, 42). This problematic conflation of female dominance with
queerness, and of queerness with sadistic tendencies is also taken up in a
brothel scene in DSC in which the leather-clad Terran Emperor Georgiou
(Michelle Yeoh) is shown in bed with a male and a female Orion sex
worker (1x15, ‘Will You Take My Hand’). While discussing payments
for services rendered, Mirror Georgiou suddenly knocks the male Orion
unconscious, before choking his female companion at gun point in order
to extort a piece of information that she is unlikely to possess. Like the
other female rulers from the Mirror Universe, Emperor Georgiou not
only relies on sex as a tool to advance her political goals, she mixes sex
and violence in ways that cast her as a dubious role model for female
empowerment. While the mirror episodes thus show independent and
empowered women, these representations remain limited and limiting

articulates’ (50, quoting Golumbia, 91). Although DSC engages with precisely
these imperatives more critically than previous series, I would suggest, it
cannot completely untangle itself from them, especially in its depictions of
the Mirror Universe and the Klingons.
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 247

because they stigmatize non-heteronormative forms of sexuality (for

example by conflating consensual BDSM practices with non-consensual
inflictions of pain) and consistently sexualize female agency. In the case
of Empress Hoshi Sato and Emperor Georgiou, two characters played
by actors of Asian descent, such depictions are particularly problematic
because even though the characters’ sexual self-determination subverts
Orientalist stereotypes of Asian women as passive sex objects, their
hypersexualization perpetuates racist and indeed imperialist (feminist)
fantasies prevalent in both science fiction and beyond.
Scholars discussing the politics of the Mirror Universe usually argue
that it serves as a foil against which the defining values of the Prime
Universe can be measured (Hantke, 2014, 562; Hassler-Forrest, 2016,
56; Cutler-Broyles, 2017, 42). If the Terran Empire is an ultra-violent,
hyper-nationalist, militaristic, imperialist, sexist, and racist totalitarian
regime, so the theory goes, the Federation should appear as non-violent,
non-nationalist, non-militaristic, non-imperialist, non-sexist, non-racist,
and democratic. Of course, things are more complicated in Star Trek,
especially in the later series. In his essay on representations of militarism
in selected Mirror episodes, Steffen Hantke writes: ‘If Star Trek disavows,
denies, or rejects militarism, then these episodes offer a space in which
the rules of repression are temporarily suspended’ (2014, 563). If we
examine the Mirror Universe, he argues, U.S. militarism emerges as a
recurring theme in the franchise at large (Hantke, 2014, 566). The same
logic applies to the themes of imperialism and racism, or expansionist
and ethnic nationalism, I argue. Because the Mirror Universe is
overtly imperialist and racist, imperialism and racism also deserve close
examination in the Prime Universe. This is especially true for DSC,
which employs the theme of travel between the two universes as one
of the main plot elements of season one and continues to examine the
aftereffects of the characters’ geographical and moral border crossings
well into season two. Rather than keeping Prime and Mirror Universe
strictly apart by promptly restoring all inter-dimensional border crossers
to their original dimension – as previous series did – DSC intermingles the
two universes more permanently. Because of this lasting entanglement
and the positions the show’s main female characters occupy in the two
entangled universes, DSC invites investigation of the complex relationship
between feminism, imperialism, and racism in the Star Trek universe
and, by extension, in contemporary U.S. society and culture, from which
the show draws and which it comments on.
248 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Border Crossing and the Imperial(ist)

Feminism(s) of Star Trek: Discovery

Feminist critics have long discussed social and cultural border crossing
– along with theoretical and conceptual border crossing – as a means
of rethinking and challenging structures of oppression and hierarchies
of power. Sometimes, though not always, they have considered these
figurative border crossings in relation to geographical border crossing.
Chicana, post-colonial, and transnational feminists such as Gloria
Anzaldúa (1987), Inderpal Grewal and Caren Kaplan (1994), or the
feminist collaborative H.J. Kim-Puri (2005) suggest that the movements
of people, goods, and ideas across literal and figurative borders – as well
as blockages of such movements – raise important questions about the
ways in which discourses on race and gender in the United States and
elsewhere are shaped by (neo-)colonialist and imperialist ideologies and
practices. Scholars such as Chandra Mohanty (2003) further suggest that
analyses of border crossing and how it is policed reveal the complicity
of mainstream Euro-American feminism with those political, economic,
social, and cultural processes that perpetuate racial inequalities on a
national as well as on a global scale. If it fails to address the complex
relationships between imperialism, nationalism, global inequalities, and
racial injustice, this scholarship suggests, the mainstream feminism
practiced by many white, liberal, first-world feminists may be understood
as a present-day manifestation of what black British feminists Valerie
Amos and Pratibha Parmar describe as ‘imperial feminism’ (53).
In their 1984 essay ‘Challenging Imperial Feminism,’ Amos and
Parmar denounce ‘the ways in which a particular tradition, white
Eurocentric and Western, has sought to establish itself as the only
legitimate feminism’ (3). They stress that ‘[t]he “herstory” which white
women use to trace the roots of women’s oppression … is an imperial
history rooted in the prejudices of colonial and neo-colonial periods’ (5;
emphasis added). Feminist analyses of imperial feminism and its legacies
frequently concern the past, such as when Lora Wildenthal draws
on Amos and Parmar to explicate the imperial feminism of German
colonialist Frieda von Bülow, hinting at the historical continuities
between the racist ideologies that fuel imperialist projects and the kind
of ethnic nationalism that tends to form the basis of totalitarian and
fascist regimes, whether in the past or today.3 Referencing Grewal and

3
For a more detailed description of the historical continuities between the
racial politics of German imperialism and the genocidal politics of German
fascism, continuities that are also implied in DSC, see Fatima El Tayeb’s
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 249

Mohanty, among others, media scholar Deepa Kumar discusses the

nature of ‘imperialist feminism’ in the twenty-first century. According
to Kumar,

the logic of imperialist feminism in the twenty-first century …

[is] shaped by the deeply racist framework of the ‘clash of civili-
zations,’ which is based on the idea that the West is a superior
culture because it believes in democracy, human rights, secularism,
women’s rights, gay rights, freedom of speech, and a whole host of
other liberal values, whereas the Global South is barbaric, misogy-
nistic, driven by religion, and illiberal. (2006)

While the Mirror Universe storyline in DSC also allows for a discussion
of imperial feminism in the traditional sense, the storyline surrounding
the Klingon–Federation war and its aftermath evoke precisely the kind
of ‘clash of civilizations’ Kumar references here. When she notes in her
article that ‘today, empire is still a masculine and sexist enterprise, but
what has changed in the twenty-first century is that there is now a
“place for women”’ (2006), this is all the more true for the twenty-third
century of DSC. More even, because the cast of the show is so racially
diverse, an analysis of imperial(ist) feminism(s) in DSC must consider, as
Kumar does, that ‘even with women and people of color at the helm of
empire, racism and sexism still remain central to the imperial mission.’
When discussing the link between imperialism and feminism in DSC,
maybe the obvious place to start is the character of Terran Emperor
Philippa Georgiou, a fierce and extremely dangerous woman who has
ascended to the highest positions of power in the Mirror Universe
by playing by its brutal rules. Known as ‘her most Imperial Majesty,
Mother of the Fatherland, Overlord of Vulcan, Dominus of Qo’noS, [and]
Regina Andor’ (1x12, ‘Vaulting Ambition’), she mercilessly persecutes
the enemies of the empire and grounds her right to rule in her own
strength and ability to lead as well as in an ideology of Terran racial
superiority. This ideology claims human supremacy over alien races,
including the Vulcans, Klingons, and Andorians, whose home worlds
the emperor controls. Notions of racial superiority govern everyday social
relations in the Terran Empire, where all non-humans are barred from
higher offices and where Kelpiens, a gentle and peaceful alien species,
are either slaves or treated as animals of slaughter (1x12). Terran ideas
of human supremacy and expansive nationalism also translate into direct

essay ‘Dangerous Liaisons: Race, Nation, and German Identity’ from the
edited collection Not so Plain as Black and White (2010).
250 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

political action, as indicated by ‘Terran General Order 4:’ ‘Any exotic

species deemed a threat to the Imperial Supremacy will be extinguished
without prejudice’ (1x12; emphasis added). The Terran imperialism that
Emperor Georgiou promotes specifically targets ‘exotic species’ and thus
openly acknowledges the racist ideologies on which it is premised and
the horrendous acts of violence it uses to enforce its goals.
The Terran Empire’s expansionist ethnic nationalism is also addressed
in a scene of episode 1x13 (‘What’s Past is Prologue’), in which Emperor
Georgiou is confronted by her most dangerous competitor, Mirror Lorca
(Jason Isaacs). In the middle of staging a coup, Mirror Lorca tries to
convince the imperial troops to switch sides by taunting the emperor
over the ship-wide comm system:

Hello Philippa. I’ve watched for years; you let alien races spill over
the borders, flourish in our backyard, then have the gall to incite
rebellion. The Terrans need a leader who will preserve our way of
life, our race. Try as you might, it’s clearly not you. … To all, I
make this offer: renounce Georgiou. The Empire is dying in her
hands. But you don’t have to… [T]ogether [we] will make the
Empire …[pause]… glorious again! (1x13; emphasis added)

The rhetoric Mirror Lorca uses in this scene to describe the alien species
rebelling against Terran rule has a variety of historical precedents.
Yet, it also specifically alludes to the rising racist and anti-immigrant
sentiments in the United States during the production of seasons one and
two of DSC.4 The last sentence of the quoted passage for instance echoes
the infamous slogan of Trump’s 2016 U.S. presidential campaign and
subsequent presidency: ‘Make America great again.’ Indeed, the racist
sentiment expressed by Mirror Lorca is not at all as far removed from
the political rhetoric of the 45th president of the United States as one

4
Jason Isaacs, who plays Mirror Lorca on the show, has repeatedly suggested
that the Mirror Universe, as it is scripted in DSC, is ‘an all too imaginable
version of the present’ (1x12, ‘After Trek’). In an interview with Inverse, he
elaborates on this idea, alluding specifically to his monologue in ‘What’s
Past is Prologue’: ‘[The Mirror Universe] is a world where some people
believe in racial purity and are against immigration, and they think it’s
okay to lie to get what you want, and that in the end the weak should be
treated harshly. Sadly, those views are prevalent in the world today, and
in fact there are people in seats of power who espouse those views every
day’ (Britt, n.p.). For further analysis of Lorca and the imperialist and toxic
masculinity he presents, see Sabrina Mittermeier and Jenny Volkmer’s essay
on questions of masculinity in their contribution to this volume.
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 251

would hope, given that the quoted DSC character is a Terran sociopath
from a universe in which everybody in pursuit or positions of power
is manifestly evil. I will come back to DSC’s commentary on the larger
political context of its production at the end of this essay. For now,
let me emphasize that the above scene depicts a direct confrontation
between the female leader of a brutal imperialist regime and her most
formidable male rival. If Emperor Georgiou has failed the empire, as
her opponent alleges, it is not because she did not ruthlessly enforce
Terran rule and its underlying ideals of human supremacy. After all,
she is responsible for the destruction of the Klingon homeworld and
thus for the near extermination of the empire’s most formidable enemy.
Mirror Georgiou has risen in the ranks of the Terran Empire because
she has not only played by its rules but excelled in the game. The
imperial feminism she represents is one in which women are willing to
do whatever is necessary to gain a seat at the table. As suggested by her
honorary title ‘Mother of the Fatherland,’ Emperor Georgiou’s brand of
imperial feminism is one in which women assume positions of power
by exhibiting an imperialist femininity that rivals or even surpasses the
imperialist and racist masculinity that informs all social relations and
political structures in the Terran Empire.
All would be well according to the traditional logic of Star Trek
if Emperor Georgiou remained in the Mirror Universe, serving as
a concrete yet safely distant example of everything that Starfleet is
supposed to fight and stand against. Yet, Mirror Georgiou crosses over
into the Prime Universe with the help of Michael Burnham (Sonequa
Martin-Green), where she remains, eventually joining Section 31,
a Starfleet special operations organization that does not adhere to
Federation principles.5 Specialist Michael Burnham, the tortured hero
of the series, travels to the Mirror Universe onboard the science vessel
U.S.S. Discovery, which jumps there using an experimental spore drive
that was developed by Starfleet in an effort to gain the upper hand in a
gruesome war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire caused by
Burnham. Arriving in the Mirror Universe, Burnham realizes not only
that her mirror counterpart is presumed dead, she is also the adoptive
daughter of Emperor Georgiou.6 In an attempt to find information that

5
Early in 2019, CBS announced a DSC spin-off focusing on Emperor
Georgiou’s work for Section 31, while also indicating that the Terran
character would continue to appear in future DSC seasons.
6
The DSC comic Succession (2018) reveals that Mirror Burnham is only in
hiding, but returns to take her adoptive mother’s place as Terran emperor
once Mirror Georgiou has crossed over into the Prime Universe. According
to the comic, Mirror Burnham dies, along with the entire Terran population
252 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

will allow the crew of the Discovery to return home, Prime Burnham is
forced to pose as the emperor’s lost daughter. Before she is invited to the
imperial palace, however, Burnham has to go undercover on one of the
flagships of the imperial Terran fleet. In a voice-over overlaying a series
of scenes that show her daily routine as the captain of the I.S.S. Shenzou,
Prime Burnham expresses concern that impersonating a high-ranking
Terran officer will eventually destroy her. While the audience observes
as Burnham is given a bath by the enslaved Mirror Saru (Doug Jones) or
attending the execution of three crew members found ‘guilty of malicious
thoughts against [their] emperor’ (Mirror Detmer (Emily Coutts), ‘The
Wolf Inside’ 1x11), Burnham reflects:

It’s been two days. But they’re already inside my head. Every
moment is a test. Can you bury your heart? Can you hide your
decency? Can you continue to pretend to be one of them? Even as,
little by little, it kills the person you really are?… I’ve continued
to study their ways, read all that I can. It’s getting easier to pass.
Which is exactly what I feared the most. (1x11)

Forced to watch Burnham participate in the horrible yet ordinary

routines of a Terran captain and seeing her follow Terran laws and
societal conventions, the audience is given a sense of the danger of the
kind of habitual normalization that comes with long-term exposure
to an elaborate system of oppression. Only the painfully controlled
voice-over reminds viewers that what they are witnessing is Burnham’s
desperate struggle to maintain her identity and moral integrity. When
she refuses to bomb a rebel camp against the emperor’s explicit orders
risking to be executed as a traitor, a parallel to TOS’s ‘Mirror, Mirror,’
she demonstrates that her struggle is successful and that she really
believes that it is ‘[b]etter [to be] dead than one of them’ (Burnham,
1x11). Burnham’s tragic flaw, the series reveals, is not a lack of moral
conviction; it is an excess of it and the consequent overwhelming desire
to right past wrongs. Because Burnham feels guilty for the death of
her mentor Captain Georgiou, she falls under the influence of Mirror
Georgiou and takes the emperor along when the Discovery returns to
its own dimension. While she thus resists her own integration into
Terran imperialist structures, she helps a Terran cross over into the
Prime Universe who is well versed in the practical implementation of
imperialist ideologies. Although she eventually prevents Mirror Georgiou

of the imperial capital, when the technologically enhanced Mirror Airiam

releases a toxin targeting only human beings.
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 253

from committing yet another act of mass murder, Burnham represents

a feminism that becomes temporarily complicit with the imperialist
project. It is complicit because it fails to oppose imperialism’s agents
due to personal allegiances and because of a temporary overlap of goals
(though not of means), here stopping the Federation’s war with the
Klingons.
Cadet Sylvia Tilly (Mary Wiseman), an ambitious young science
officer stationed on the Discovery, represents a different version of this
kind of feminism that becomes temporarily complicit with imperialist
ideologies. Like Burnham, she has to impersonate her alter ego from
the Mirror Universe in order to help her ship escape detection from
Terran forces. Mirror Tilly, Terran records show, has ‘gained the rank
of captain by stabbing [her] previous superior in bed’ and is known
among the anti-Terran rebels as ‘[t]he Slayer of Sorna Prime’ and ‘[t]he
Witch of Wurna Minor’ (‘Despite Yourself,’ 1x10). Facing herself in a
mirror after she has changed into the Terran uniform, Prime Tilly is
both ‘terrified’ and ‘excited’ (1x10) about the prospect of having to pose
as the Discovery’s captain. Although Tilly assures Burnham that she is
‘nothing like her [counterpart]’ who is ‘a twisted version of everything
[she has] ever aspired to be’ (1x10), being captain is precisely what
Prime Tilly has always wanted. Indeed, during one of her first conver-
sations with Burnham she tells her new roommate: ‘Here’s a thing
most people don’t know about me: I’m gonna be a captain someday’
(‘Context is for Kings’ 1x03). Likely because she has imagined herself
in the captain’s chair countless times before, Tilly seems surprisingly
at ease when she first takes over command, exchanging verbal blows
with the captain of the Terran starship Cooper. While Burnham suffers
immensely during her undercover operation on the I.S.S. Shenzou, Tilly
– in her much safer position on the disguised U.S.S Discovery – enjoys
her temporary promotion. She enjoys the (illusion of) power that the
Mirror Universe offers a young woman like herself and thrives under
the recognition she receives for playing her part convincingly. Back in
the Prime Universe, she continues to crave this recognition and thus
agrees to accompany Mirror Georgiou on her secret mission to Qo’noS,
flattered by the potential the emperor sees in her. Although she, too,
turns against the emperor as soon as she learns about Georgiou’s plan
to destroy Qo’noS, Tilly represents a feminism that is in constant danger
of being seduced by the fantasies of individual superiority and promises
of personal success that a racist system offers to those who feel presently
disempowered, yet destined for greatness.
Ideas of collective rather than individual superiority and promises of
collective rather than personal success are what lead Admiral Katrina
254 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Cornwell (Jayne Brook) to embrace Terran ideologies and practices.

Cornwell never crosses over into the Mirror Universe, but instead spends
several weeks as a prisoner of the Klingon Empire before she is rescued
by the crew of the Discovery. Deeply affected by this experience, she is
willing to cross more and more figurative borders as the Federation-
Klingon war begins to escalate. Witnessing the Klingon take-over of
Federation space and devastating Klingon attacks on civilian Federation
targets, the survivors of Starfleet command – represented in the series
by Admiral Cornwell and Vulcan Ambassador Sarek (James Frain) –
consider all means appropriate to protect Earth. When the U.S.S. Discovery
returns to the Prime Universe with Mirror Georgiou on on board, they
allow her to take the position of her prime counterpart, hoping that the
emperor’s experience in defeating the Klingons will give the Federation
an advantage in the war. Here is how Cornwell explains the situation
to the crew of the Discovery in the tellingly entitled episode ‘The War
Without, the War Within’:

We have all mourned the enormous loss of life due to this war.
The acts of violence committed against us are the acts of a foe
without reason, without honor. And they will not stop coming after
us in the hopes of destroying everything that we hold dear. These are
desperate times and they call on us to do more than merely protect
our people, defend our borders. (1x14; emphasis added)

Using emotionally charged language reminiscent of the rhetoric used

by the Bush administration after the attacks of 9/11 to justify the
War on Terror, Cornwell demonizes the Klingons and argues that the
Federation must temporarily abandon its principles, eventually ordering
the Discovery to take the fight to the ‘Klingon homeworld.’ By helping
to enlist Emperor Georgiou, Cornwell allows the Federation to enter
into an alliance with a fascist leader and mass murderer who, at least
in theory, represents everything that is antithetical to Starfleet’s core
values. Cornwell knows very well that Emperor Georgiou is not headed
to Qo’noS ‘to map its surface and isolate vulnerabilities and military
targets’ (1x14). In exchange for her freedom, the Terran Emperor has
offered to destroy the Klingons’ home planet just like she did in her
own universe. By condoning Mirror Georgiou’s integration into Starfleet
(and later into Section 31), Cornwell also condones Terran ideologies
and practices. If Mirror Georgiou’s belief in human supremacy comes
from elsewhere, Cornwell’s brand of imperial feminism is decidedly
home-grown. By making room for the emperor in the Prime Universe,
rather than detaining her or returning her to the Mirror Universe,
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 255

Cornwell becomes representative of a feminism that tolerates and even

embraces imperialist ideologies in a situation of crisis.
When Cornwell speaks about the Klingon–Federation war, she
implies that the Klingons have been the aggressors, while the Federation
has merely been trying to defend itself. Yet, DSC also suggests that
the war may at least in part have been caused by the Federation’s
unacknowledged imperialist tendencies. Such an interpretation is
suggested not only by T’Kuvma’s (Chris Obi) opening monologue in
1x01 (‘The Vulcan Hello’), in which he urges the Klingons to join
forces against an ever-expanding Federation, but also by the conver-
sation between Cornwell and another strong female character: L’Rell
(Mary Chieffo), a female Klingon who is captured by/defects to the
Federation. Visiting L’Rell in her holding cell on the Discovery, Cornwell
is desperate to know why the Klingons ‘target civilians, hospitals,
[and] food convoys’ and ‘slaughter innocents’ in their fight against the
Federation, upon which L’Rell echoes T’Kuvma’s speech by replying
scornfully that her people ‘fight to preserve Klingon identity’ (1x14).
Cornwell dismisses this explanation, claiming that ‘[n]o one is looking
to destroy [Klingon] culture’ because ‘[Federation] laws are founded in
equality… freedom.’ L’Rell once more objects, arguing instead that ‘the
Federation … seeks universal homogenization and assimilation.’ What
becomes apparent in this scene is a clash of cultures. L’Rell hints at the
fact that the war with the Federation is a desirable state for Klingons,
while a peace treaty would be viewed as assimilation and thus as proof
of the very loss of identity the Klingons try to prevent by fighting the
war. For the Klingons fighting the Federation is preserving Klingon
culture, regardless of the war’s outcome. Cornwell’s dismissal of L’Rell’s
argument is valid only from a human-centric perspective that presumes
that the ideal of peaceful co-existence promoted by the Federation (if
necessary by war) is a universally acknowledged value. Although the
admiral’s desire to end the bloodshed is understandable (from a human
point of view), the assumption that Federation values are necessarily the
ones by which all species in the Alpha Quadrant should live follows a
logic of cultural imperialism. In the symbolic confrontations between
Cornwell and L’Rell throughout season one of DSC, Cornwell can be said
to embody a culturally imperialist power that insists on the superiority
of its principles and seeks to enforce them by all means necessary.
As a woman who holds one of the highest positions of power in the
Federation, Cornwell represents a feminism that embraces cultural
imperialism (turned imperialism), effectively discounting the values and
thus to some extent the value of the racialized Other that the Klingons
represent in the Star Trek universe.
256 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Othering, Racialization, and Imperialist

Feminism in Star Trek: Discovery

One of the reasons why a reading of the Federation as a (culturally)

imperialist power suggests itself in DSC is because the series uses filmic
strategies of (racial) Othering when depicting the Federation’s enemies,
whether in the Mirror or in the Prime Universe. Put differently, it
inscribes into the show, at least initially, what film scholar E. Ann
Kaplan in drawing from Laura Mulvey has famously described as an
‘imperial gaze’ (Looking for the Other, 1997), that is, a viewing position
that reproduces a racist, colonial imagination in its depiction of the Other.
Like its predecessors, DSC exoticizes Terrans and racializes Klingons,
while at the same time using Star Trek’s potential for multilayered
representations of cultural identity and race to call racial hierarchies
and racialized notions of cultural difference into question. The highly
diverse cast together with the Mirror Universe plot of DSC complicates
the representation of female characters of color, exploring their place in
the different imperialist projects depicted in the series, whether that of
the Terran Empire, the Klingon Empire, or indeed that of the Federation.
Whether in the Prime Universe or the Mirror Universe, the word
‘race’ is only used in DSC to distinguish the human ‘race’ from other
alien species, not in order to differentiate between and discriminate
against certain individuals or groups based on skin color. Yet, the show’s
producers and writers also play with the fact that this second sense of
the word ‘race’ has always operated as a subtext in conversations about
different alien ‘races’ in Star Trek (cf. Bernardi, 1998; Roberts, 2000;
Kanzler, 2004; Pounds, 2011; Scodari, 2012). In a notable exchange
between Michael Burnham and Admiral Brett Anderson (Terry Serpico)
during DSC’s first episode, the admiral admonishes Burnham for
suggesting that the Klingons are ‘relentlessly hostile’ because it is ‘in
their nature’ (1x01), suggesting that she should be ‘the last person to
make assumptions based on race’ given her own ‘background.’7 Since
humanity in the twenty-third century has abandoned the idea of multiple
human ‘races,’ Anderson here refers to Burnham’s adoption by a mixed
Vulcan–Human couple. Yet, because Michael Burnham is played by
black actress Sonequa Martin-Green and because Admiral Anderson’s
whiteness is particularly emphasized in this scene – he appears in it as
a pale projection of light – their exchange does more than to insist that

7
Whit Frazier Peterson also addresses this exchange in his essay ‘The
Cotton-Gin Effect: An Afrofuturist Reading of Star Trek: Discovery’ published
in this volume.
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 257

‘it would be unwise to confuse race and culture’ (1x01) when trying to
understand the behavioral differences between humans and Klingons.
The scene also reminds the audience that ‘race’ as a social category
defined by skin color is not a matter of biology, but a cultural construct
used to enforce power hierarchies and to legitimate oppression. As the
series shows, racialized notions of cultural difference can be used to fuel
imperialist ideologies. The concrete effects of such ideologies include both
the extermination campaign the Terran Empire conducts against the
non-human rebels in the Mirror Universe and the war the Federation
wages against the Klingons in the Prime Universe.
Othering and racialization are most obviously at play in DSC’s
depiction of the Klingons. From the moment the Klingons appear in
the series, they are marked as ‘racial others’ who subscribe to utterly
different values than the Federation. As indicated earlier, the audience
first encounters the Klingons when T’Kuvma urges his fellow Klingons to
take up arms against the Federation in the very first scene of the show.
As the camera gradually zooms out from T’Kuvma’s eye to his face and
upper body, the viewers’ attention is directed first at a fiery, yet human-
looking eye, then at the Klingon’s oily black skin, thick lips, and pointed
teeth, and finally at his elongated, hairless head covered in bone-ridges.
Like the other Klingon warriors surrounding him, T’Kuvma appears both
monstrously human and exaggeratedly inhuman, a depiction that harks
back to the racist representations of Klingons in earlier Star Trek series.
Due to this history and the even longer Euro-American tradition of
racializing enemies on screen, filmic clues such as dark skin, aggressive-
sounding foreign speech, or scenes like the one later in the first episode,
in which the Klingons gather around the open sarcophagus of a fallen
warrior wrapped in cloth like an Egyptian mummy, remain powerful
signifiers of racialized difference. Despite their changed design, then,
the Klingons in DSC are still cast as racial Others.8
However, the Klingons are not only racialized; the show also relies
on strategies of Othering and on a racialization of cultural difference
to define Klingon identity and their relationship to the Federation.
Indeed, T’Kuvma claims that the Federation does not merely endanger
Klingon sovereignty and identity, but that ‘[Klingon] purity is a threat
to them,’ which is why ‘[t]hey wish to drag [the Klingon Empire] into
the muck, where humans, Vulcans, Tellarites, and filthy Andorians mix’
(1x02, ‘Battle at the Binary Stars’). T’Kuvma’s explicitly racist rhetoric
of ‘purity’ in this speech betrays a biological understanding of ‘race’

8
Diana A. Mafe also makes this point in an interview published in this
volume.
258 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

linked to the expansive ‘Klingon supremacy’ (1x02) he promotes. This

is also why it is significant that L’Rell’s comments about Klingon identity
in her conversation with Cornwell refer primarily to an incompatibility
of cultures (1x14). Distancing herself from T’Kuvma as well as from
his successor, General Kol (Kenneth Mitchell), who – like the former –
insists on expansive ‘Klingon Supremacy’ (T’Kuvma, 1x02, ‘Battle at the
Binary Stars’; Kol, 1x08,‘Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum’), L’Rell demonstrates
why she becomes the Klingon leader who manages to unite the warring
houses and make peace with the Federation in season two of the series.
One could even go so far as to suggest that she succeeds because she
abandons the racist ideologies of the Klingon Empire and becomes, by
Klingon standards at least, a representative of anti-imperialist feminism.
Because of the narrative structure of the first season of DSC, the
representation of the Klingon Empire shares certain similarities with
that of the Terran Empire. Like the Klingons of the Prime Universe,
Terrans are almost exclusively depicted infighting, torturing prisoners,
attacking civilian settlements and rebel camps, preparing for war, or
engaging in battle. Only a few Klingon and Terran characters, such as
L’Rell, Voq, Emperor Georgiou, and Mirror Lorca, are shown in other
social settings, allowing them to become more fully rounded, complex
characters. While costume and set designs for the Mirror Universe have
included Orientalist elements, the Terrans have never been racialized
in the same ways as the Klingons. Still, the Terran Empire’s brutal
enforcement of human supremacy points to white supremacy as one of
the pillars of Terran imperialist ideology. Its function as the Federation’s
mirror image consequently raises questions about Star Trek’s tendency to
depict Starfleet as a predominantly (though never exclusively) human
organization and human Starfleet officers as predominantly (though
never exclusively) white. The fact that DSC features the most diverse
cast as well as the most elaborate Mirror Universe plot in Star Trek
history complicates its engagement with issues of race, gender, and
imperialism. When the Discovery crosses over into the Mirror Universe,
the show not only places several characters played by actors of color in
an utterly xenophobic and racist society, it imagines some of them as
very productive members of that society. For the purpose of this article,
I will suggest what this means for the negotiation of the imperial(ist)
feminisms of the three main female characters who cross from one
universe into the other and end up impersonating their respective alter
egos: Sylvia Tilly, Michael Burnham, and Emperor Georgiou.
From what the audience learns about her, Tilly arrives at her post
on the Discovery armed with a nearly indestructible faith in the inherent
goodness of people and the conviction that she will rise in the ranks of
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 259

Starfleet once she gets a chance to prove herself. The chance presents
itself to her first when she has to impersonate ‘Captain Killy’ to protect
her crew from the Terran forces and later when she joins Emperor
Georgiou’s secret mission to Qo’noS. While Tilly is certainly incredibly
smart and works hard for her goals, she is also not burdened by the
obstacles Burnham has had to confront since childhood. Put differently,
Tilly begins her career in Starfleet from a position of privilege that is
the result of her unquestionable (one might argue excessive) humanness/
humanity, a humanness/humanity that is coded as whiteness in the Star
Trek franchise. Although she critically reflects on the dangerous appeal
of Terran (read human/white) supremacy, suggesting that ‘the only
way we can stop ourselves from becoming them is to understand the
darkness within us and fight it’ (1x14), she nonetheless profits from the
possibilities the Terran Empire opens for her. Indeed, Tilly’s flirtation
with the imperial(ist) feminism of her Mirror Universe counterpart is
only possible, I would argue, because of her humanness (whiteness).
I do not mean to deny that Tilly is compassionate and brilliant. But,
ultimately, the fact that she resists the temptation of becoming ‘Killy’
and rejects Emperor Georgiou as a role model after she uncovers her
genocidal plans is enough to prove that she deserves a place in Starfleet’s
command training program and thus the chance of one day occupying
one of the most powerful positions in the Federation. For other characters
on the show, most notably Michael Burnham, the bar is set much higher.
In contrast to Tilly’s experiences on the Discovery, Burnham’s time in
Starfleet is marked by an ongoing struggle to be(come) fully human. At
first, she is an outsider because of her Vulcan upbringing, which keeps
her from integrating into the primarily human crew of the Shenzhou.
Then she loses her position, because her Vulcan upbringing together with
the trauma of having been orphaned by a Klingon attack cause her to
mutiny, a moment’s decision with catastrophic longterm consequences.
In order to be successful, Burnham must survive a series of harrowing
trials, proving that she is human and can be, despite her Vulcan mindset
and very human flaws, a worthy member of Starfleet. After her return
from the Mirror Universe, her devotion to Starfleet’s core principles is
tested yet again, when she must oppose Starfleet command’s plan to
sacrifice Qo’noS to end the war with the Klingons. She even suggests
a collaboration with L’Rell, effectively installing her as the new leader
of the Klingons. Tilly learns from her time in the Mirror Universe that
she can be what she has always hoped to be, but that rising in the
ranks of Starfleet is only desirable if the organization and each officer
in it, but especially the most privileged ones, continually work to resist
the pull of a supremacist logic. Burnham learns that she can succeed
260 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

to do so by embracing both her Vulcan upbringing and her humanity.

Their brush with Terran racist ideologies and their ultimate rejection of
these ideologies teaches both women valuable lessons. However, their
very different learning processes also illustrate that some people have
to work much harder to achieve what others are granted primarily by
virtue of their birth. Anti-imperialist (and anti-racist) feminism has to
account for these differences.
Because Emperor Georgiou is played by Chinese-Malaysian actress
Michelle Yeoh, her role in DSC most drastically expresses the particular
paradox of twenty-first century imperali(ist) feminism as Deepa Kumar
describes it. Like Empress Sato before her, Mirror Georgiou is both an
exoticized (human) Other and the ruler of a fascist empire that strives
for complete domination of all racialized (alien) Others: she is literally
a woman of color ‘at the helm of empire’ (Kumar, 2006). More than
that, because she crosses over into the Prime Universe and remains
there, she embodies the very real danger of a return of imperialist and
racist ideologies to a society like the Federation that claims to reject
imperialism and discrimination of all kinds and instead prides itself
on defending individual freedom, liberty, and equality at all costs.
This danger is further underlined by the fact that Mirror Georgiou
becomes a leading figure in Section 31 precisely at the moment
when this autonomous intelligence agency is increasingly at odds
with Starfleet regulations and Federation values, eventually turning
into an independent secret police that uses assassination, torture, and
mass murder to protect the Federation (DS9 6x19, ‘Inquisition’), tactics
suspiciously similar to those employed in the Mirror Universe. Read as
a comment on current political developments and debates, the figure of
Emperor Georgiou, like that of Mirror Lorca who lives undetected in
the Prime Universe for several months, is suggestive of the resurgence
of racist, nationalist, and imperialist views in the United States before
and during DSC’s production. Unlike Lorca, who, despite his Hispanic
name, represents the kind of white masculinity commonly associated
with imperialism, the figure of Emperor Georgiou draws attention to
the active role of women in imperialist projects of the past and present.
What is more, her character points to the fact that even women of color
(in positions of power or privilege) can become complicit in the very
structures of oppression that marginalize them. While DSC suggests that
imperialism and the ideologies of imperial(ist) feminism will always be
more seductive and immediately rewarding for white women like Tilly
and Cornwell, it implies that women of color can become agents of
empire, too. In the end, Michael Burnham is the show’s hero because
she challenges imperialist ideologies and the racist logic that accompanies
 ‘INTO A MIRROR DARKLY’ 261

them from within a system that puts her as a woman of color/human

raised in a mixed-species household at considerable disadvantage. Even
in a time of uttermost political and personal crisis, she resists the
imperialist (feminist) worldview according to which the ‘alien’ Other
is an enemy whose very nature justifies domination and destruction.
Burnham resists this logic and so must we.

Conclusion

The Cold War Star Trek series presented Terran imperialism, hyperna-
tionalism, and racism as ideologies that could easily be contained and
resisted as long as the crew members who crossed over into the Mirror
Universe followed the example of the all-American hero Captain Kirk
and as long as the crew members who remained in the Prime Universe
could be trusted to recognize and neutralize the Terran intruders quickly.
Fifty years later, DSC suggests that Terran ideologies can easily remain
undetected (as with Mirror Lorca) or unopposed (as with Emperor
Georgiou), if those in power and those following orders unquestioningly
fail to speak up, because a temporary alliance with the enemy ‘within’
seems justified in order to defeat the enemy ‘without.’ In the end, the
show can be read as a comment on contemporary (American) society
at large, in which sexist, racist, nationalist, and imperialist tendencies
have never been a matter of the past and have only ever, if at all, been
pushed closer to the margins of political discourse. More specifically, DSC
represents one feminist future in which racism and imperialism are an
integral part of social and political structures (the Mirror Universe), and
one feminist future in which racism and imperialism seem a relic of the
past but make a forceful return as the story unfolds (the Prime Universe).
Because it represents such a return, DSC can be read as a cautionary
tale about what can happen if feminists think they can compromise on
their anti-racist and anti-imperialist politics. When I speak of ‘feminists’
here, I mean to include everyone who considers themselves a feminist,
but I primarily mean white European and American feminists; and
when I suggest that feminists may think that they can compromise on
their anti-racist and anti-imperialist politics, I mean to say that they
should not.
262 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

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Episodes Cited

‘Mirror, Mirror.’ Star Trek: The Original Series, written by Gene Roddenberry
and Jerome Bixby, directed by Marc Daniels, Paramount Television, 6
October, 1967.
‘Inquisition.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Bradley Thompson and
David Weddle, directed by Michael Dorn, Paramount Pictures, 8 April,
1998.
‘Battle at the Binary Stars.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Adam Kane, CBS Television Studios, 24
September, 2017.
‘The Vulcan Hello.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Akiva Goldsman and
Bryan Fuller, directed by David Semel, CBS Television Studios, 24
September, 2017.
‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 2 October, 2017.
‘Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by John Scott, CBS Television Studios, 6 November, 2017.
‘Despite Yourself.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Sean Cochran, directed by
Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television Studios, 8 January, 2018.
264 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘The Wolf Inside.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa Randolph, directed by
T.J. Scott, CBS Television Studios, 15 January, 2018.
‘Vaulting Ambition.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordon Nardino, directed
by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios, 22 January, 2018.
‘Episode 12.’ After Trek, hosted by Matt Mira, CBS Television Studios,
28  January, 2018.
‘What’s Past is Prologue.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Ted Sullivan,
directed by Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 29 January,
2018.
‘The War Without, the War Within.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa
Randolph, directed by David Solomon, CBS Television Studios, 5 February,
2018.
‘Will You Take My Hand.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Akiva Goldsman
and Gretchen J. Berg, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 11 February, 2018.
Interrogating Gender
 Star Trek Discovers Women
Gender, Race, Science, and Michael Burnham
Amy C. Chambers

Introduction

Michael Burnham, and in turn Sonequa Martin-Green, brings women

of color, and specifically black women, from the margins to the center
of the narrative world of Star Trek,1 by building upon the limited but
often groundbreaking secondary character representation the Star Trek
franchise has offered to women of color in its more than 50-year history.
Women of color who have held significant roles in Star Trek include:
Uhura (Nichelle Nichols Star Trek: The Original Series, 1966–1969);2
Guinan (Whoopi Goldberg, The Next Generation, 1988–1993); Keiko
O’Brien (Rosalind Chao, The Next Generation, 1991–1992 and Deep Space
Nine, 1993–1999); Kasidy Yates-Sisko (Penny Johnson, Deep Space Nine,
1995–1999); B’Elanna Torres (Roxann Dawson, Voyager, 1995–2001);
and Lily Sloane (Alfre Woodward, First Contact, 1996). Now in Discovery,
Michael Burnham and Captain Phillippa Georgiou (Michelle Yeoh)
place women at the center alongside a cast of secondary women of
color characters including Dr. Gabrielle Burnham (Sonja Sohn), Joann
Owosekun (Oyin Oladejo), Ellen Landry (Rekha Sharma), Dr. Pollard
(Raven Dauda), May Ahearn (Bahia Watson/Claire Qute) and Queen

1
The concept of drawing black women from the margin to center of narratives
is taken from bell hooks’ Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center Feminist
Theory: From Margin to Center (Boston, MA: South End Press, 1984) (revised
2nd ed., 2000).
2
The first Star Trek series has been retrospectively named (by fans and
scholars) Star Trek: The Original Series to provide clarity and resist confusion
between the different series found in the televisual Star Trek franchise
storyworld. Individual Star Trek series will be referred to by their subtitles
throughout this chapter, e.g. Star Trek: The Original Series is The Original Series;
Star Trek: Discovery is referred to as Discovery; Star Trek: Voyager is Voyager;
and so forth.

267
268 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Me Hani Ika Hali Ka Po (Yadira Guevara-Prip). Discovery offers ‘visible

diversity’ that goes ‘beyond the surface level … [expressing] depictions
of science, technology and power, informed by complex and cogent
backstories’ (Keeler, 2019, 136). These women on the U.S.S. Discovery
are not only part of a diverse crew, but also part of a community of
women of color who have narrative agency and complexity – they are
not presented as exceptions or anomalies but instead normalized as part
of the wider demographics of the show.
Burnham is revolutionary in terms of the role she plays as a black
woman scientist and a black woman protagonist in the Star Trek
universe. Burnham and Captain Georgiou are introduced to viewers
tracking across a desert-planet discussing their current mission with the
science vessel U.S.S. Shenzhou to save an alien species from extinction.
Discovery takes place in the Star Trek timeline prior the adventures of the
crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise (The Original Series, 1966–1969) including
Burnham’s own adoptive brother Spock (played by Ethan Peck in season
two). Burnham was adopted by the Vulcan ambassador to the United
Federation of Planets Sarek (James Frain) and his human wife Amanda
Grayson (Mia Kirshner) – Spock’s biological parents – after Burnham’s
own parents are both believed to have been killed by Klingons. At
the time of her graduation from the Vulcan Science Academy, Michael
Burnham was the only human to have graduated from the institution
– she graduates first in her class – but is rejected from the Vulcan
Expeditionary Group because of her species (human). She instead
joins Starfleet and trains in xenoanthropology – a bioscientific and
anthropological specialism that defines her as an expert in first contact.
Burnham’s mutinous actions in the first two episodes of the first season
shift the focus of the work of Shenzhou and later Discovery from science
to war as all ships are made available to the war effort against the
Klingons. Once seconded to the crew of the Discovery it is revealed that
the captain of that ship, Gabriel Lorca (Jason Isaacs), engineered her
arrival believing that he could use her advanced scientific knowledge
to weaponize the technology onboard; rather than science for the
advancement of knowledge, the Discovery becomes a science vessel
for the advancement of war. Lorca manipulates Burnham, just as he
does Starfleet and the crew of the Discovery, by explicitly rejecting the
idea that his commitment to the spore drive research is militaristic
in ‘Context is for Kings’ (1x03) – a lie that is rapidly exposed as the
war continues. Throughout much of the first season Burnham acts as
a bridge between the scientific ambitions of Paul Stamets (Anthony
Rapp) and the military motivations of Lorca as she listens to both of
their perspectives and negotiates the tension between scientists and
 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 269

the military. Although defined as a xenoanthropologist professionally,

it is Burnham’s extensive knowledge of both physics and biology that
ultimately saves her from life imprisonment and progresses research
on the spore drive that ultimately averts Discovery’s decimation at the
hands of the Klingon fleet.
Stories about women scientists tend to focus on their relationship
to/with/against men ‘omitting any overt mention of race,’ but the Star
Trek franchise has offered a speculative space where the complexities
of ‘gender and race interact’ (Roberts, 2000a, 205). Voyager’s Kathryn
Janeway (Kate Mulgrew) was ‘bestowed the ambiguous honor’ of being
the first woman captain on a titular vessel (Dove-Viebhan, 2007, 597),
and also the first woman scientist to feature as a lead character. Janeway
as a character must ‘tread carefully between the possible indictment of
mannishness on the one hand and the accusation of hyper-femininity on
the other’ in taking a role and a position in a franchise that had only
been previously occupied by white men (597). She trained as a Starfleet
science officer (speciality unknown) and built and worked with a team
of women scientists including astrophysicist Seven of Nine (Jeri Ryan),
and engineer B’Elanna Torres (Roxann Dawson). Roberts (2000a, 206)
argues that both Torres and Seven of Nine are coded as ‘bi-racial’ because
they are ‘mixed-species female alien.’ Discovery is Burnham’s story but
many of the major plot twists of season one are driven or shown to
have been manipulated by a man: Captain Lorca. Nevertheless, with
the introduction of Michael Burnham Star Trek places a black woman
scientist at the center of the narrative world rather than at the margins
of a(nother) white person’s story.
Women scientists are often seen as anomalous exceptions and
‘sidelined in subordinate roles’ in the fictional (and indeed real) world of
white, male-dominated scientific research (Simis et al., 2016, 93). Even
in the supposedly race- and gender-blind future of Star Trek, a black
woman science specialist is still considered groundbreaking. Yet, despite
this unique positioning of a black woman in a major science fiction
franchise, Burnham’s representation as a scientist still sees her aligned
with some of the limiting stereotypes repeatedly applied to women
(fictional and non-). Her representation is complicated by including the
hard/soft science binary where women scientists are affiliated with the
biosciences; the presentation of women in science as almost impossibly
brilliant polymaths while also being defective women (neither successful
mothers or lovers); and approaching science from a gendered (feminine/
caring/softer) perspective.
There is very little scholarship written on the representation of black
women in science fiction – they do appear scattered across the history
270 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

of moving image Anglo-American science fiction in part due to the

unprecedented success and continuing receivership of Uhura/Nichols
(O’Keeffe, 2013), but they have often been overlooked by (predomi-
nately white) scholars. Adilifu Nama’s book Black Space: Imagining Race
in Science Fiction Film (2008) constituted the first intervention into the
scholarship surrounding Anglo-American science fiction cinema and
its failure to consider the representation of race.3 Nama (2008, 128)
presents post-structuralist readings of science fiction exposing the ‘black
allegories’ in ‘white narratives,’ claiming that the dearth of black faces
‘signals a normalization of white supremacy in the future’ and the
perpetuation of institutionalized racism in these imagined futures (25).
Despite the originality of Nama’s monograph, the work does not fully
consider the representation of black women as a doubly marginalized
group, with the majority of examples analyzing male characters and
male-centric narratives. Diana A. Mafe’s Where No Black Woman Has Gone
Before: Subversive Portrayals in Speculative Film and TV (2018) offers the first
book-length analysis of black women in science fiction. Mafe argues that
the lack of scholarship on an already massively underrepresented group
‘speaks to the erasure of black women not only in the speculative genre
but also in scholarship about the genre’ (2018, 11). Women of color
experience a double bind as they are often offered little representation
onscreen and then even less attention in scholarship.
Black women have been historically analyzed either in terms of their
race or their gender – but rarely if ever as a complex raced and gendered
subject. As Mafe (2018a) notes, with reference to the work of Mary Anne
Doane (1991), discussions of women in fiction are usually assumed to
refer to white women and the term ‘black’ is almost exclusively aligned
with black men. Doane (1991, 231) surmises that: ‘What is lost in the
process is the situation of the black woman. Her position becomes quite

3
This lack of attention in scholarship is relatively specific to moving image
media. Although Mafe and Nama’s monographs are the only book-length
studies to specifically deal with the representation of race in science fiction
cinema, thus far, the question of race and science fiction literature has
been the subject of several texts. Key texts include: Sharon DeGraw, The
Subject of Race in American Science Fiction (London: Taylor & Francis, 2009);
De Witt Douglas Kilgore, Astrofuturism: Science, Race, and Visions of Utopia in
Space (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003); Isiah Lavender,
Race in American Science Fiction (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
2011); John Rieder, Colonialism and the Emergence of Science Fiction (Middleton,
WI: Wesleyan University Press, 2008); Elisabeth Anne Leonard (ed.), Into
Darkness Peering: Race and Color in the Fantastic (Westport, CT: Greenwood
Press, 1997).
 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 271

peculiar and oppressively unique: in terms of oppression, she is both

black and a woman; in terms of theory she is neither.’ Yet, with the recent
popularity of black-led science-based fictions such Hidden Figures (2016),
Black Panther (2018), and Discovery, black women are not only offered
representation but firmly placed at the center of science-based narrative
worlds. Spaces are opening up for future narratives and characterizations
that do not require black women to be doubly oppressed by both creative
and academic communities. Crucially, the critical and indeed financial
success of these black-led science-based texts have shown that having a
normalized black woman scientist as a main – if not the main, in the
case of Michael Burnham – character does not constitute a barrier to
financial or critical success.

Representing Science and Women Scientists in Discovery

Science and technology and their imagined futures provide a backdrop

for the Star Trek universe. The theory and practice that gives the
narrative a spectacular speculative frame is often perceived as neutral
(or at least benevolent) as Starfleet explores the universe. As the series
progresses and specifically across the arc of episodes that introduces
the science of Discovery,4 the series’ key scientific fields are identified
as biology and physics – the two in which Burnham has expertise.
She is a professional xenoanthropologist (the study of extra-terrestrial
cultures), but throughout the series there are multiple references to
her knowledge of ‘high-level physics’ and ‘quantum mechanics.’ Her
expertise across these two scientific fields, once she is able to combine
them, make her invaluable to the crew and the narrative as it is revealed
that U.S.S. Discovery travels using an organic propulsion network. The
‘intergalactic ecosystem’ of the mycelial network has the potential to offer
an infinite number of interstellar pathways that allow for very accurate
instantaneous travel across the known universe and all other quantum
realities. But when Burnham is transported onto the U.S.S. Discovery, as
fabricated by Lorca, it is not to in the service of the impartial altruistic
science, as suggested in Burnham’s initial introduction and Lorca’s

4
The ‘science’ that underpins the first series of Discovery is established across
three episodes (episodes three, four, and five in season one). These episodes
develop the concept of the spore drive, the series’ focus on the relationship
between biology and physics, and establishes the aptitude and scientific
practice of the main character – Michael Burnham – as a woman of many
sciences.
272 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

duplicitous proclamations (1x03), but rather one that uses her specific
scientific expertise to gain a tactical advantage in combat and break
into the Mirror Universe.
Historically, scientists have been represented in Anglo-American
media as ‘white, privileged American males’ and, on the whole, this
has not changed (Kirby, 2017, 292). There has been a recent wave
of black women scientists appearing on both the small and silver
screen, but Black Panther’s Shuri (Letitia Wright), NASA’s Hidden Figures
(Dorothy Vaughan (Octavia Spencer), Mary Jackson (Janelle Monáe),
and Katherine Johnson (Taraji P. Henson)) and the Burnhams (both
mother and daughter) on Discovery are still the minority in the small
group of women scientists being offered as representation. Studies on
women scientists in fictional media from key critics including Jocelyn
Steinke (2005, 2010, 2018) and Eva Flicker (2003, 2008) have shown that
women are underrepresented when compared to men. Diane A. Mafe
has argued that even when women are offered space on science fiction
screens they are predominately privileged white women who often work
to reinforce ‘white male authority’ (2018a, 2). The paucity of women
scientists on screen also emulates the dearth of women and specifically
women of color in the sciences in reality. But representation is not
simply about reflecting the problems of the present day: science fiction
– as a speculative form – should allow for an imagining of alternatives
that are not permeated with the trappings of existing institutionalized
discrimination.
The current scholarship on women in science on screen is limited
but has thus far almost exclusively focused on the role and provenance
of white women. The black woman, as Doane (1991) notes, is often
‘lost in the process’ of analysis as she is both raced and gendered –
so discussions of women scientists tend to focus on the white woman
in part because of the bias that Doane identifies and moreover sadly
because they are also rarely offered representation.5 There have been
other examples of fictional black women scientists in science fiction
film and television including haematologist Dr. Karen Jenson (N’bushe
Wright) in Blade (1998), medical doctor-in-training Martha Jones
(Freema Agyeman) in Doctor Who (2007–2010), astronaut Molly Woods

5
In Steinke and Tavarez’s 2018 study of 42 films released between 2004
and 2012, 72 women scientists were identified in comparison to 142 men
– which is particularly striking as this was not a study of all science-based
films from the period of study but only those specifically with women in
prominent speaking roles. The ratio of almost exactly 2:1 for male/female
scientist speaking roles shows that, even in films with women scientists in
central character roles, they are still outnumbered.
 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 273

(Halle Berry) in Extant (2014–2015), the already mentioned tech-genius

Shuri in Black Panther, astrophysicist Dr. Josie Radek (Tessa Thompson)
in Annihilation (2018), engineer Ava Hamilton (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) in
The Cloverfield Paradox (2018), and engineer Naomi Nagata (Dominique
Tipper) in The Expanse (2015–). Despite these notable examples it is
very ‘rare’ for black women scientists to be seen in science fiction,
which makes analysis of black women scientists all the more important
(Meyer, 2018, n.p.).
Star Trek idealizes science and the scientist but, throughout much
of its history, the science future it imagines has been distinctly white,
straight, and male. In Discovery Michael Burnham offers representation as
not only a woman scientist but specifically as a black woman scientist,
which makes her doubly rare in science fiction representation. Burnham
notably works alongside a crew of (named) scientist characters who also
further the show’s diversity including: astromycologist (study of fungi in
space) Paul Stamets and his partner – both romantic and professional –
Dr. Hugh Culber (Wilson Cruz), another person of color.6 Burnham is
also not the only woman in the engineering lab as she appears alongside
the red-headed theoretical engineer Cadet Sylvia Tilly (Mary Wiseman)
working with the ship’s organic propulsion system (the spore drive) and
to rescue Burnham’s adoptive Vulcan father Sarek (James Frain) with
experimental neurological technology.7

6
Previous characters have been read as queer in the Star Trek franchise, but
Culber and Stamets’ relationship is established and then normalized and
placed in context alongside other romantic relationships within the series.
For further analysis of LGBTQ representation in the Star Trek franchise in
general and on DSC in particular, see Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike
Spychala’s essay ‘“Never Hide Who You Are”: Queer Representation and
Actorvism in Star Trek: Discovery’ published in this volume.
7
The initial reception of Cadet Tilly raised questions about whether
the character was intended to be interpreted as being on the autistic
spectrum – her self-definition of having ‘special needs’ is not fully
explained and left to speculation. Even though Wiseman has responded
to these suggestions to say that her character was not intended to
be read as autistic (Hatchett, 2018), the reception of Tilly as another
instance of diversity and representation in the show is worth noting as
it generated discussions of representing disability. See Teresa Jusino, ‘Did
Star Trek: Discovery Just Introduce a Recurring Character on the Autism
Spectrum?’, The Mary Sue, 2 October (2017), https://www.themarysue.com/
cadet-sylvia-tilly-star-trek-discovery/, and Keisha Hatchett, ‘Is Star Trek:
Discovery’s Tilly on the Autism Spectrum? [video interview with Mary
Wiseman]’, TV Guide, 7 February (2018), https://www.tvguide.com/news/
is-star-trek-discoverys-tilly-on-the-autism-spectrum/.
274 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Season two of Discovery sees the development of Tilly as a key woman

scientist character, although Burnham remains the central character
for the season and her scientific and emotional intelligence continues
to underpin her actions. Burnham takes on the mission of saving her
brother (Spock) and investigating the mysterious actions of the Red
Angel. Once the identity of the time-traveler is revealed to be Burnham’s
mother – Gabrielle – Discovery, if only briefly, gains its first black woman
astrophysicist and engineer. Dr. Gabrielle Burnham’s expertise allows
her to escape death and travel through time to warn her daughter of
the universe’s impending and complete depopulation. Dr. Burnham had
been developing the Red Angel suit as a time-travel device for Section
31 prior to the Klingon attack where she used the suit to escape, but
it later became a tool for jumping through time in attempts to prevent
a newly sentient artificial intelligence (Control) from downloading the
Sphere data, a key step in the destruction of all sentient beings.
The woman scientist that had been very much second to Burnham
in the first season emerges as a key site of science in the second. Tilly
is featured in several sequences in the first two episodes of season
two, experimenting on a chunk of asteroid made of dark matter (or, as
Tilly explains, ‘not composed of non-baryonic matter’). The asteroid is
strapped into Discovery’s hold with the support of a gravity simulator, but
it is still volatile, as comedic scenes of Tilly working with the material
attest. Tilly’s tenacity sees her repeatedly return to the problem of the
dark matter, its connection to the Red Angel, and how its power might
be harnessed. Tilly is also frequently referred to for her expertise when
on the bridge as a science officer – offering analysis of data and working
with and attempting to manage and protect the Sphere data.
The encounter with the asteroid also brings Jett Reno (Tig Notaro)
onto the ship – a woman engineer who survived the U.S.S. Hiawatha’s
crash landing on the asteroid and sustained the lives of injured crew
members before their rescue. Reno is introduced to the show via three
drones that signal her need for help from U.S.S. Discovery, her charac-
terization is founded in her problem solving and adept application of
medical and engineering knowledge. Her addition to the crew adds
another woman of science and also a queer woman. Reno’s wife died
in the Federation–Klingon War and she continues to wear her wedding
ring in memoriam. Like Culber and Stamets, Reno’s queerness is not
hidden and, more importantly, is not revealed as being something that
defines her as different or other – instead it is simply there.8 Reno and

8
The phrasing in this sentence is purposely drawn from a discussion of the
campaigns surrounding the release of Star Trek: Voyager from LGBTQI fans
 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 275

Tilly offer distinct images of women of science with their physicality

suiting and amplifying their characterization and the message that it is
competency that counts. Tilly offers a non-standard Hollywood aesthetic
with an athletic rather than skinny build, and her long red curly hair,
although neat in professional settings, is not as restrained as expected
from fleet personnel. She has presence both physically and intellectually
that is often expressed through loquacious energetic enthusiasm – but
her ability is unquestioned by her peers and superiors even when her
presentation is unconventional. Reno is represented as somewhat less
traditionally feminine and recalls the androgyny of Alien’s Ellen Ripley
(Sigourney Weaver). She seemingly aligns with Flicker’s (2008) typology
of the ‘gruff woman’s libber’ or ‘male woman,’ but once placed within
the wider context of the Discovery crew it is difficult to critique Reno as
such because she is not the exception to a male majority.
The women scientist stereotypes that Flicker (2003, 2008) catalogued
seem to be based upon the notion of the fictional woman scientist in
isolation and as anomaly. By representing women as part of a diverse
working environment – here, specifically, the science and engineering lab
– the images of women that may have been considered limiting previously
are less pronounced with women expressing themselves however they wish
without fear of their appearance affecting the perception of their expertise.
Reno, as a later addition to the Discovery crew and a humorous challenger
to Stamets’ sharp tongue and cantankerous demeanor, becomes part of
the spectrum of the definition of who can be a scientist.
Whereas Reno is shown as a practical engineer and Tilly is identified
specifically as a theoretical engineer, Burnham must take on the burden of
being the impossibly polymathic woman scientist. Her focused high-level
intelligence is in part attributed to her Vulcan upbringing – where she
was educated to the highest standard surpassing the expectations of her
adoptive family and species. But it is also due to a trend in science fiction
films in which it is necessary for the woman scientist to be represented
as a ‘superstar’ who sacrifices her femininity for science (Elena, 1997,
270). As Eva Flicker (2003, 316–17) surmises: ‘The portrayal of women
scientists … is orientated on their deficiency – either not a “real” woman
or not a “proper” scientist – [which] contributes to the formation of myths
about women scientists’ lack of competence.’

such as the ‘Voyager Visibility Project’ that wanted the show to include
characters for whom their ‘queerness is neither hidden nor revealed as
difference, but is simply there’ (Pearson, 1999, 2). The inclusion and naturali-
zation of queer characters is still quite unusual, with few appearing without
coming-out narratives fixated upon their sexuality/gender identity.
276 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Burnham must navigate this tension of not being a ‘real’ woman

or a ‘proper’ scientist, alongside not being seen as entirely human
(emotionally deficient) due to her Vulcan upbringing. In the time loop
episode – ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad’ (1x07) – Stamets,
who knows that he is repeating the same 30 minutes because of his
genetic connection to the spore drive, needs a secret from Burnham that
he can use to convince her in future loops that he is telling the truth
about their predicament. Her secret is that she has never been in love.
Despite her intelligence and successes Burnham has ‘failed’ to ‘have it
all’ as a professional woman and needs time to practically stand still
before she can progress into a heteronormative relationship (with Ash
Tyler (Shazad Latif)).
‘Representation in [a] fictional world’ as Gerbner and Gross (1976,
182) argued ‘signifies social existence’ whereas ‘absence means symbolic
annihilation.’ Women scientists and more acutely women scientists of
color have been symbolically annihilated from both science fiction and
the history of science. Gaye Tuchman (1979) specifically notes that in
the media women are largely invisible and, when they are visible, they
are marginalized or used as a symbolic representation of gender equality.
It is not, as historian of science Patricia Fara (2008, 19) observes, that
women scientists have been ‘written out’ but rather that they ‘have
never been written into these stories.’ Discovery offers representation
that has previously been missing – but this means that Burnham, and
equally the actress Sonequa Martin-Green, carries a substantial ‘burden
of representation’ as she is the first woman of color and the first active
woman scientist to lead a Star Trek franchise production (Mercer, 1990).
Burnham propels the representation of women scientists forward by
placing them at the center rather than the margins of someone else’s
story. Any discussion of women scientists is often marred by this burden
as these women (indeed both fictional and real) are not only critiqued
for their scientific ability and their duty to represent and inspire their
gender, but they must also be practically ‘perfect’ women (exceptionally
successful as mothers, lovers, and scientists).
In the same way that black women are doubly underrepresented as
both raced and gendered subjects, then, the burden of representation also
weighs heavier upon them as they are made symbolic of two underrep-
resented groups and thus judged doubly as harshly as they are expected
to ‘speak for the entire community from which they come’ because of
their representational scarcity (Mercer, 1994, 214; original emphasis).
 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 277

Women Scientists Practicing Science

Science is and has been traditionally framed as a ‘value-neutral

knowledge’ practice that is not associated with understanding and studies
of gender (Harding, 1995, 296). But as Sandra Harding argues ‘[science
and technology] are not value neutral or outside culture’ and instead
‘fully embodied’ into society (296). Harding (1991, 55) established the
notion that science and technology industries have attempted to improve
gender issues by just adding women ‘without questioning the legitimacy
of science’s social hierarchy’ and thus its mirroring of discriminatory
practices found therein. Attempts historically (Harding was analyzing
the 1980s and 1990s) and more recently to diversify scientific cultures
– both real and imagined – result in recurrent issues that fail to address
institutional and structural problems that continue to limit women’s
participation and representation in the sciences.
As a fictional woman in scientific research and practice, Michael
Burnham can be seen to align with the existing problematic history
of representation either where, as argued above, women are seemingly
represented as polymathic ‘super scientists’ or conform to the restrictive
stereotypes identified by Eva Flicker (2003, 2008). Flicker (2003, 317)
argues that fictional women scientists have presented ‘more of a stereo-
typical woman’s role than the occupational role as a scientist,’ which
may have an impact on audience perceptions and frame these women as
anomalous transgressors into the realms of science practice, which Robin
Roberts (2000b, 278) identifies as ‘the last [bastion] of male dominance.’9
Although Michael Burnham deviates from the stereotype of the white
woman scientist, her scientific practice is still allied to some of the
restrictive expectations of women scientists on screen. She predominantly
works in the biosciences and it is her empathy for and ‘relationship’ to/
with the large alien creature ‘Ripper’ that begins the journey to at least
partially resolving issues with controlling the spore drive.
Ripper is an alien creature that strongly resembles a real-world
microscopic creature called a tardigrade that displays a genetic symbiosis
with the spores (from a specific alien fungus) and thus access to the

9
Flicker (2003, 2008) identifies seven (the seventh was added in a 2008
chapter that revised the list) different types of fictional women scientists: the
old maid; the gruff women’s libber/male woman; the naïve expert; the evil
vamp; the daughter or assistant; the lonely heroine; and the clever, digital
beauty (added 2008). These limiting stereotypes tend to position women in
relation to male scientist counterparts (mother, lover, assistant) or shame
these women because of their failures to align with societal expectations
concerning marriage, love, and childbearing.
278 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

mycelial network that allows the ‘giant space tardigrade’ and in turn
the U.S.S. Discovery’s Displacement-Activated Spore Hub drive (spore
drive/s-drive/DASH) to make expansive light-year jumps in a matter
of seconds.10 As Burnham explains in ‘Choose Your Pain’ (1x05): ‘Like
its microscopic cousins on Earth, the tardigrade is able to incorporate
foreign DNA into its own genome via horizontal gene transfer. When
Ripper borrows DNA from the mycelium, he’s granted an all-access
travel pass.’ Ripper is retrieved from the U.S.S. Glenn in ‘The Butcher’s
Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry’ (1x04) after Discovery responds to
a distress call to discover the crew dead and the ship seemingly ravaged
by this unknown alien. At first misunderstood as a violent alien (hence
the moniker Ripper) that needs to be tortured to be controlled, Burnham
uses her knowledge of xenoanthropology and biology to argue that:
‘nothing in its biology suggests it would attack, except in self-defense.’
Notably, Burnham chooses to investigate (as a scientist) rather than
interrogate and dominate Ripper.
In her feminist critiques of science, Evelyn Fox Keller (1982, 1985,
1987) introduced the concept of gendered science and argues that science
is one of the institutions of power that feminists should want to change
and that there exists a possibility ‘to make science a human, rather than
masculine, project’ (Oliver, 1989, 138) – ‘a science less restrained by the
impulse to dominate’ (Keller, 1982, 39). Keller intimates that throughout
the history of male-directed science, the discipline has been understood
as ‘the power to dominate nature’ (1987, 47). In Discovery, Burnham is not
only a raced and gendered Other, but also a scientific Other as she chooses
to approach her subject as something to be empathized with rather than
controlled. An approach that is not considered by her scientific colleagues
and the security officer who is tasked with monitoring the mutineer. In
her remark: ‘understanding how it feels was not our mission,’ security
officer Ellen Landry, also a woman of color,11 represents a traditional

10
The spore drive and the representation of the tardigrade in Discovery as
an advanced instantaneous form of interstellar transportation has been
criticized by a number of scientists including Professor Steven Saltzberg
(Professor of Biomedical Engineering, Computer Science, and Biostatistics,
Johns Hopkins University). As Saltzberg (2017) remarks: ‘using horizontally
transferred DNA for space travel is so nutty, so bad, that it’s not even wrong.
Even if tardigrades could absorb foreign DNA (they can’t), how the heck is
this supposed to give them the ability to tap into the (wildly implausible)
intergalactic spore network?’.
11
Landry is also a further example of progressive casting, where the standard
secondary white male character is instead a woman of color who aligns with
previously established notions of the ‘tough woman’ (Inness, 2004). Landry
 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 279

approach to science and also the tension the crew of science vessel
Discovery face as their mission of exploratory science is replaced with one
of weaponization. Whereas Stamets and Burnham focus their research
on progressing science, albeit with different approaches, Lorca (with
Landry as his emissary) is obsessed with using their expertise to create
a spore-based biological weapon.
The opening of ‘Choose Your Pain’ (1x05) presents a vivid dream/
nightmare sequence where Burnham sees herself taking the place and
thus the pain of the tardigrade. Her sentimental connection to the
creature is confirmed in a later sequence in the lab where a shot-reverse-
shot between Ripper (showing his full alien body) and Burnham places
the two characters in conversation, providing the audience once again
with an insight into the effect the torture of Ripper has on Burnham.
She is visibly emotional. This is a response that she has been taught to
repress in her Vulcan upbringing but one that is shown here to give
her the insight she needs to understand and then appropriately utilize
the tardigrade. Burnham quite literally takes on the emotional labor of
the scientific experiments – as a woman she is seen to be capable of
not only understanding her subject but also accessing her emotions and
empathy in order to do so. She has what Keller (1983) terms ‘a feeling
for the organism’ that is unfathomable to the initially emotionally
deficient Stamets who has no ethical issues with exploiting rather than
understanding the tardigrade.12 Burnham pleads with her colleague
to release Ripper exclaiming: ‘Making Ripper the critical component
of the s-drive is unsustainable for the creature and your invention’
(1x05). The animate co-pilot suffers immeasurably each time a jump is
made, a feeling that is communicated to audiences via Burnham’s own
pained expressions. Once Stamets installs himself as the new co-pilot
– which is raised as an ethical issue by First Officer Saru (Doug Jones)
who remarks that ‘eugenics experiments are forbidden’ under Starfleet’s
science regulations (1x05) – Ripper is released back into the void of
space. Burnham corresponds once again on behalf of the tardigrade as

transgresses traditional notions of a security officer’s gender but does so in

the relatively safe/acceptable body of a ‘beautiful, slender, heterosexually
desirable’ woman (3).
12
The concept of ‘a feeling for the organism’ was developed specifically
in reference to Nobel Prize-winning scientist and cytogeneticist Barbara
McClintock in Keller’s 1983 biography of her. McClintock discovered genetic
transposition and developed theories that explained the suppression and
expression of genetic information. A specialism that aligns with the genetic
research involved in accessing the mycelium network and its use (although
scientifically inaccurate understanding) of horizontal gene transfer.
280 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

she surmises that: ‘what makes it most happy is to be free’ (1x05). Upon
Ripper’s release it is only the woman scientists who are present – Tilly
and Burnham – and shown crying in response to tardigrade’s release
back into the wild and in recognition of their own scientific success
with the spore drive.

Conclusion: Normalizing Women of Color/Science

Star Trek has historically given women space to be scientists, but

Discovery goes further than previous entries into the mythos by having
a black woman physicist/bioscientist protagonist. It imagines a future
when neither race nor gender present a barrier. Michael Burnham is
in many ways ‘groundbreaking’ as she ‘fulfils the untapped potential
of her famous predecessor’ – the bridge-bound Uhura – by controlling
much of the narrative of Discovery and driving it forward (Mafe, 2018b).
The majority of science fiction, and indeed film and television
more generally, is predominantly produced by white male writers and
directors, which lessens the likelihood of stories being written that
explore alternative perspectives. It is ‘endemic to white culture,’ as
Richard Dyer (1997, 2) has stated, that whiteness, and specifically male
whiteness, is normalized and naturalized. Race (non-Caucasian) and
gender (non-male) are used by writers and producers to define characters
as Other and even anomalous – with ‘black womanhood’ historically
signifying ‘an ultimate Otherness’ (Mafe, 2018a, 15). Diversity needs
to happen not only on screen but across the industry – diverse stories
not only offer representation but an opportunity to critique the flaws
in the system. For a genre immersed in futurism, science fiction often
fails women and people of color – and most definitely for those multiply
marginalized at the intersections of gender, race, and sexuality.
Michael Burnham features in the first new Star Trek small screen
fiction to appear since J.J. Abrams’ reboot of the franchise beginning
with Star Trek (2009).13 Although the representation of women scientists,
and specifically the representation of women of color, is beginning to
change with the emergence of greater diversity of onscreen scientists
and some key examples of women who are not immediately defined by

13
The Star Trek film reboot that Abrams inaugurated exists, narratively, in an
alternative timeframe – the Kelvin Timeline, named for the ship destroyed
in the opening scene. Discovery exists in the same timeline as the other
television series and the films that feature characters from the Original and
Next Generation series.
 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 281

their relationship to men and the family – these women are found more
frequently in small screen fictions. Although there is ‘not a plethora of
examples’ television has allowed ‘for more ambiguity regarding who is’
and can be ‘the hero’ with more opportunities for women characters to
develop (Mafe, 2018a, 141, 125). Television series provide more spaces
for women scientists of color and women scientists generally to exist
– perhaps because of the platform’s inherent opportunities for writers/
producers to develop, drop, and introduce characters over a potentially
long-term serial narrative. Films have extremely long production scales
and are only one entity on which producers will be judged (critically and
financially) – television has a different development and dissemination
process where even a small but dedicated/repeat-viewing ‘boutique
audience’ can be sufficient to make a series financially viable (Mittel,
2015, 34) – audiences that may well positively respond to the incorpo-
ration of unrepresented character types and narratives.
Series like Orphan Black (2013–2016), Extant (2014–2015), Doctor Who
(2005–ongoing), and the Star Trek franchise (most recently Discovery)
allow for women scientist characters to develop without a need to anchor
them to male scientists or familial narratives, and also include characters
who further diversify the representation of women. The bio-science
fiction clone drama Orphan Black features several prominent LGBTQ
characters including the women scientists Delphine Cormier (Évelyne
Brochu) and her girlfriend Cosima Niehaus (Tatiana Maslany), who
exclaims that her ‘sexuality is not the most interesting thing about [her].’
Similarly to Culber and Stamets in Discovery, it is their scientific acumen
that defines them and their agency within the narrative and not their
same-sex relationship, which is normalized rather than spectacularized.
Queer scientist representation is even more limited than the represen-
tation of both men and women from racial and ethnic minorities, and
the inclusion of Culber (alongside Stamets) in Discovery constitutes not
only the first openly gay mixed-race couple but the first gay scientist
of color to feature in the Star Trek universe.
Improving, increasing, and diversifying media representation is only
one way of affecting change, but it is an important part of a long-term
project to change the representation and perception of the sciences in
a way that stops constraining people by their race, sexuality, ability,
and gender. Michael Burnham, alongside an emerging number of black
women scientists in both cinematic and small screen fictions, represents
an opening up of the imagined future where not only race but also
gender can be found at the forefront of the discovery of worlds and
cultures where no one has gone before.
282 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

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 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 283

Evelyn Fox Keller, A Feeling for The Organism: The Life and Works of Barbara
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as Groundbreaking’, Media Diversified, 6 March (2018b), https://
mediadiversified.org/2018/03/06/normalising-black-women-as-heroes-
star-trek-discovery-as-groundbreaking/.
—— Where No Black Woman Has Gone Before: Subversive Portrayals in Speculative
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4.10 (1990): 61–78.
—— Welcome to the Jungle: New Positions in Black Cultural Studies (London:
Routledge, 1994).
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Set the Stage for Black Women Scientists on Screen’, Lady Science (2018),
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1998s-blade-set-the-stage-for-black-women-scientists-on-screen.
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(New York: New York University Press, 2015).
Adilifu Nama, Black Space: Imagining Race in Science Fiction Film (Austin:
University of Texas Press, 2008).
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and the Representation of STEM Careers’, International Journal of Gender,
Science and Technology, 5.1 (2013): 5–24.
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to Science as Science Is to Nature?’, Hypatia, 3.3 (1989): 137–48.
284 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Petra Pansegrau, ‘Stereotypes and Images of Scientists in Fiction Films’,

in Bernd-Rüdiger Hüppauf and Peter Weingart (eds.) Science Images and
Popular Images of the Sciences (New York: Routledge, 2008): 257–66.
Wendy Pearson, ‘Alien Cryptographies: The View from Queer’, Science Fiction
Studies, 26.1 (1999): 1–22.
Constance Penley, NASA/Trek: Popular Science and Sex in America (London:
Verso, 1997).
John Rieder, Colonialism and the Emergence of Science Fiction (Middleton, WI:
Wesleyan University Press, 2008).
Robin Roberts, ‘Science, Race, and Gender in Star Trek: Voyager’, in Elyce Rae
Helford (ed.) Fantasy Girls: Gender in the New Universe of Science Fiction and
Fantasy Television (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000a): 203–21.
—— ‘The Woman Scientist in Star Trek: Voyager’, in Marleen Barr (ed.)
Future Females, The Next Generation: New Voices and Velocities in Feminist
Science Fiction Criticism (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers,
2000b): 277–90.
Steven Saltzberg, ‘New Star Trek Series Makes Massive Science
Blunder’, Forbes, 30 October (2017), https://www.forbes.com/sites/
stevensalzberg/2017/10/30/new-star-trek-series-makes-massive-science-
blunder/#11ce2591b377.
Molly J. Simis, Sara K. Yeo, Kathleen M. Rose, Dominique Brossard,
Dietram A. Scheufele, Michael A. Xenos, and Barbara Kline, ‘New Media
Audiences’ Perceptions of Male and Female Scientists in Two Sci-Fi
Movies’, Bulletin of Science, Technology & Society, 35.3/4 (2016): 93–103.
Jocelyn Steinke, ‘Cultural Representations of Gender and Science: Portrayals
of Female Scientists and Engineers in Popular Films’, Science Communication,
27.1 (2005): 27–63.
—— ‘Gender Representations of Scientists’, in Susanna Hornig Priest (ed.)
Encyclopedia of Science and Technology Communication (Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage, 2010): 323–25.
—— and Paola Maria Paniagua Tavarez, ‘Cultural Representations of
Gender and STEM: Portrayals of Female STEM Characters in Popular
Films 2002–2014’, International Journal of Gender, Science and Technology,
9.3 (2018): 245–76.
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Women in Culture and Society, 4.3 (1979): 528–42.

Episodes, Films, and Television Series Cited

‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 1 October, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 8 October, 2017.
 STAR TREK DISCOVERS WOMEN 285

‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kemp Powers, story by
Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron Harberts, and Kemp Powers, directed by Lee
Rose, CBS Television Studios, 15 October, 2017.
‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by
Aron Eli Coleite and Jesse Alexander, directed by David M. Barrett, CBS
Television Studios, 29 October, 2017.

Star Trek: First Contact. 1996. Directed by Jonathan Frakes. Paramount

Pictures.
Blade. 1998. Directed by Stephen Norrington. New Line Cinema.
28 Days Later. 2002. Directed by Danny Boyle. Fox Searchlight Pictures.
AVP: Alien vs Predator. 2004. Directed by Paul W.S. Anderson. 20th Century
Fox.
Star Trek. 2009. Directed by J.J. Abrams. Paramount Pictures.
Hidden Figures. 2016. Directed by Theodore Melfi. 20th Century Fox.
Annihilation. 2018. Directed by Alex Garland. Paramount Pictures.
Black Panther. 2018. Directed by Ryan Coogler. Marvel Studios.
The Cloverfield Paradox. 2018. Directed by Julius Onah. Paramount Pictures.

Star Trek: The Original Series. NBC: 1966–1969.

Star Trek: Next Generation. CBS: 1987–1994.
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. CBS: 1993–1999.
Star Trek: Voyager. CBS: 1995–2001.
Doctor Who. BBC: 2005–ongoing.
Orphan Black. BBC America: 2013–2017.
Extant. CBS: 2014–2015.
The Expanse. Syfy: 2015–2018. Prime Video: 2018–ongoing.
Star Trek: Discovery. CBS: 2017–ongoing.
 Not Your Daddy’s Star Trek
Exploring Female Characters in
Star Trek: Discovery
Mareike Spychala

Introduction: Star Trek: Discovery’s Female Characters

Star Trek: Discovery, (2017–ongoing; DSC), one of the newest television

instalments in the Star Trek franchise, has been notable for the
prominence it affords its female characters and especially black female
characters and female characters of color. Not only are the show’s first
and second seasons centered on First Officer (and later mutineer and
ultimately Commander) Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green),
the first African American woman to lead a Star Trek show, several
other female characters and their relationships with each other take on
prominent roles throughout the two seasons that have aired so far. Out
of all the entries into the Star Trek canon, DSC is the show featuring
the most female characters and also the one giving these characters the
most to do. In addition to Burnham, there are 12 more named female
characters, some of which, like Cadet Sylvia Tilly (Mary Wiseman) are
part of the show’s main cast, appearing in almost all episodes, while
others, like Captain Georgiou (Michelle Yeoh) or Commander Jett Reno
(Tig Notaro) recur in a few episodes. Among the Klingons the spy and
later High Chancellor L’Rell (Mary Chieffo) takes on an increasingly
prominent role, acting as a foil to Burnham throughout the first
season. In season two, her struggle to unite the Klingon Empire and
solidify her power allows for an interrogation of the patriarchal power
structures in Klingon society that has seldom been featured in previous
series. While there are also memorable and pivotal male characters –
Lieutenant Commander Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) and Dr. Hugh
Culber (Wilson Cruz), the franchise’s first openly gay couple, Captain
Gabriel Lorca (Jason Isaacs), the eventual villain of season one, as well
as a young Lieutenant Spock (Ethan Peck) and Captain Christopher
Pike (Anson Mount) in season two – it is the female characters who
are instrumental in resolving the plots of both the first and the second

287
288 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

season and carrying the show.1 Most notably, in the finale of season two,
almost all the risky and important actions required to defeat Control, a
Section 31 A.I. gone rogue, are undertaken by female characters.
This is fairly new for the franchise. While Star Trek: The Original
Series (1966–1969; TOS) made history by featuring a female lieutenant of
Bantu origin on the bridge with the character of Nyota Uhura (Nichelle
Nichols), the show remained firmly centered on its three white, male
leads. Later Star Trek series like The Next Generation (1987–1994; TNG)
continued featuring mostly white female characters in minor – and often
stereotypical – roles. It was not until Star Trek: Voyager (1995–2001; VOY)
that audiences got to follow a female captain in Kathryn Janeway (Kate
Mulgrew). Star Trek: Discovery, through including of so many different
and fully-fledged female characters, not only continues in the franchise’s
liberal tradition, it also explores new ways in which female characters
can be represented in televised (American) science fiction series. This
essay will argue that the show’s female characters push against and
sometimes transcend generic tropes that have limited characters like
TNG’s Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis) and Dr. Beverly Crusher (Gates
McFadden), picking up on and contributing to contemporary debates
about gender and gender identity.

Reframing Established Tropes: Female Characters

and Femininity in Star Trek: Discovery

As Brian Attebery (2002) has pointed out with regard to literary science
fiction, ‘[u]ntil the 1960s, gender was one of the elements most often
transcribed unthinkingly into SF’s hypothetical worlds’ (5). He locates
this conventionality in questions of gender representation in the mostly
male audience of science fiction stories and notes the tension between
commercial interests and their tendency towards ‘predictability’ (5) and
the genres inherent trends towards modifications of basic building blocks
of stories (5). Veronica Hollinger (2003) makes a similar point, observing
that science fiction ‘has been slow to note the historical contingency and
cultural conventionality of many of our ideas about sexual identity and

1
Sabrina Mittermeier and Jenny Volkmer’s essay ‘“We Choose Our Own Pain.
Mine Helps Me Remember”: Gabriel Lorca, Ash Tyler, and the Question
of Masculinity’ explores two of the show’s main male characters, while
Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala’s essay ‘“Never Hide Who You
Are”: Queer Representation and Actorvism in Star Trek: Discovery’ takes a
closer look at the impact of the characters of Dr. Culber and Lieutenant
Commander Stamets. Both of these essays are published in this volume.
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 289

desire, about gendered behavior and about the “natural” roles of women
and men’ (126).2 While Attebery and Hollinger focus mostly on literary
science fiction, their observations also hold for most science fiction films
and television series, as becomes clear when one takes a closer look at
the Star Trek franchise itself.
Thus, Mark Bould (2003) argues that ‘TV sf relies on types of character
interaction common to soap opera,’ and that the medium’s restrictions
‘[have] rendered it conventional and conservative’ (94). A similar point
about a shift of such television series, in this case specifically TNG,
is made by Lynne Joyrich (1996, 61–84), who also notes TNG’s move
towards the format of the soap opera in its plots (73–74), and critically
reads female characters like Counselor Deanna Troi and Dr. Beverly
Crusher. Troi, she notes, ‘personifies the professionalization of femininity
itself.’ She further points out that ‘[h]ere femininity, defined precisely
as a “receptive capacity,” is (to reiterate Heath’s words) both literally
“universalized” – operative throughout distant galaxies – and “occupa-
tionalized” – constructed as a respected career’ (Joyrich, 1996, 64).
While this may be a step up from the female characters in the original
Star Trek, it also allows the series to ‘construct a “progressive” image of
a twenty-fourth century career woman while still alleviating twentieth
century anxieties about working girls’ (64). This ‘professionalization
of femininity’ (64) and the anxieties it addresses become even more
apparent when one keeps in mind that the Enterprise initially featured
a female chief of security in Lieutenant Tasha Yar (Denise Crosby)
who presents as markedly less traditionally feminine than either Dr.
Crusher or Counsellor Troi. Yar dies during TNG’s first season, after
Crosby, who thought she was not used enough, asked to be written out
of the show (Greenberger, 2015, 158). In this development, which Katja
Kanzler has called ‘symptomatic’ (2004, 168), the show’s writers missed
creating a female character that pushed against gendered character
tropes and presented an alternative femininity, and maybe even a female
masculinity.
Still further development is visible when one looks at subsequent Star
Trek shows. M. Keith Booker comments on the ‘feminist orientation’ of
VOY (1995–2001) and interprets this as an indication of the successive
growth of American society with regard to stances about the roles that
should be obtainable for women (2018, 30). Featuring the franchise’s

2
A thorough overview over the changing treatment of gender in literary
science fiction can be found in Helen Merrick’s essay ‘Gender in Science
Fiction’ (2003) while Mark Bould traces similar developments for television
shows and films in his essay ‘Film and Television’ (2003).
290 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

first, fully developed and series-carrying female captain, as well as a

half-human and half-Klingon female engineer, and, from season four
onwards, a former Borg drone and scientist, marked VOY as different from
preceding Star Trek series. Especially the inclusion of a woman of color
in a major role in the character of B’Elanna Torres (Roxann Dawson)
made VOY stand out when compared with the other series, which only
included black women or women of color in recurring roles.
Despite these partially positive developments, characters like Captain
Janeway also proved that there was still a way to go when it came to
the representation of women in science fiction television in general and
Star Trek in particular. Not only was there backlash against Janeway from
some sections of the fanbase – a phenomenon that was to be repeated
after the announcement of Michael Burnham as the lead character in
Discovery – the show also did not always deliver on what it seemed to
promise by putting a woman front and center. While Aviva Dove-Viebahn
reads VOY as a ‘feminist heterotopia’ (2007, 599) and Janeway as ‘both
“motherly” and “fatherly”’ (2007, 605; original emphasis), Michèle
A. Bowring notes that Janeway is gendered more and more in her
depiction (2004, 392) as the series continues and argues that ‘Endgame
refutes the notion that 20th century people can imagine a woman who
is a leader and who does not fall into the prison created by 20th century
dualisms regarding women and leadership’ (2004, 384).3 One reason for
this might be the fact that Starfleet, despite its declared goal of discovery
and diplomacy, is still a military organization and that this military
tradition brings with it many assumptions and anticipations regarding
gender roles (Korzeniowska, 1996, 24), traditions that the writers of all
Star Trek series cannot quite disentangle themselves from.
Janeway’s leadership style is not the only thing that seems influenced
by the writers’ perceptions of gender. Diana M.A. Relke comments on
the differences between Janeway and the captains preceding her in the
franchise by noting that ‘the [sexual] freedoms both Picard and Kirk

3
The ‘feminization’ that Bowring notes with regards to Janeway (2004, 392)
is, from season four onwards, upstaged by the former Borg drone Seven of
Nine (Jeri Ryan). It is notable how closely becoming human is connected
to becoming hyper-feminine where this character is concerned. As Anne
Cranny-Francis has pointed out, ‘Seven of Nine is left to reconfigure herself
as human, a process signified not by the reestablished authority of her mind
(as with Picard [in the TNG two-parter ‘Best of Both Worlds’]), but by her
production of a female body’ (2000, 158). Seven of Nine, then, is another
example of the ways in which the Star Trek franchise has struggled with
longstanding gendered assumptions and dichotomies in its representation
of female characters.
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 291

have enjoyed with impunity are denied to her’ (2006, 25). To ‘assert her
“femininity” without impeaching her authority,’ the show increasingly
focuses on maternal relationships and Janeway’s ‘rechanneling [of]
her libidinal energy into her maternalism’ (2006, 26). Sherrie A. Innes
makes a similar argument about the tempering of Janeway’s initial
representation as a tough woman (1999, 119). And, Relke argues, ‘the
show substitutes maternalism for the kind of intense friendship that
sustains Janeway’s counterpart Captain Kirk’ (Relke, 2006, 28). DSC
avoids some of these problems, not only because Michael Burnham, the
show’s lead, is not the titular ship’s captain, but also because Burnham is
surrounded by and forms strong friendships with other female characters
and even enters into a romantic relationship with Lieutenant Ash Tyler
(Shazad Latif) as the first season progresses.4 In addition, season two
expands on some of the show’s minor characters, including a variety
of different femininities and introducing deep friendships between, for
example, Sylvia Tilly, Airiam (Sara Mitich; Hannah Cheesman), Joann
Owosekun (Oyin Oladejo), and Keyla Detmer (Emily Coutts). Airiam
a cybernetically augmented human, is ultimately killed off in ‘Project
Daedalus’ (2x09), but not before Tilly helps her to temporarily break out
of the control of the A.I. that has taken over Airiam’s body by sending
her memories of their friendship and asserting that Airiam is ‘a great
friend’ (2x09). This representation of female friendships, however, is
undercut somewhat by the fact that the relationships between these
characters are mostly introduced in 2x09 rather than developed and
referenced over a longer period.
Still, the friendships between these women are one of the most
noteworthy ways in which DSC goes against established depictions of
gender and gendered relations in Star Trek and science fiction more
broadly. As Jon Wagner and Jan Lundeen point out in a passage that
Relke also quotes (2006, 29), Star Trek has

4
It needs to be noted however, that Burnham has been sentenced as a
mutineer and stripped of rank by the time she enters into this relationship.
By implication, then, this relationship only seems to be possible as long
as Burnham is outside of Starfleet’s power structure. What is more, the
relationship with Tyler, who, while having a human consciousness and
identity, is also the surgically altered Klingon Voq, is exceedingly tricky and
viewers see Burnham and Tyler separate at the end of season one and again
at the end of season two. Thus, it remains to be seen if future seasons will
allow Commander Burnham to go beyond some of the same limitations
that were placed on Janeway where romantic and sexual relationships are
concerned.
292 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

failed to exploit the possibility of enhancing the mythos of

friendship/Philia by developing deep friendships among women[.]
After thirty years, there are still no female friendships that
carry anything like the emotional depth or the elements of
self-transcendence that one sees in male friendships. It is hard to
offer any explanation other than the most painful one: that Trek
has remained so wedded to patriarchal notions of the ‘otherness’
of women and their sexual (as opposed to social) nature that it has
proven unable to take its own central mythos as far as it might.
(1998, 115)

While Wagner and Lundeen’s criticism holds true for previous Star Trek
shows and the films that debuted between 2009 and 2013, DSC explicitly
focuses on relationships between female characters and, in season one,
especially on Michael Burnham’s ‘rediscovery’ of her humanity via these
relationships after her attempts to assimilate into Vulcan society during
her childhood and teenage years. While this focus on her emotions does
have deeply gendered undertones that harken back to those described
about Deanna Troi, Burnham’s role within Starfleet, first as first officer,
and later as a science officer, does not represent the same ‘professionali-
zation of femininity’ that Joyrich noted for the former (1996, 64).5 In
addition, while the women in earlier Star Trek shows are often charac-
terized through their relationships with male characters, working ‘to
buttress and support the men, not to tell them what to do or to assume
command roles’ (Dupree, 2013, 283), Burnham has important personal
and professional relationships with men and women. The show’s first
episode, for example, opens with Burnham and her captain, Philippa
Georgiou, on an away mission; their relationship is marked by a deep,
trusting friendship that is expressed through the banter the two women
engage in – banter that is notably reminiscent of the relationship between
TOS’s Kirk and Bones, for example. While Georgiou dies one episode
later, in a recording of her last will, she lets Burnham know that she ‘is
as proud of [her] as if [she] were [her] own daughter’ (1x03, ‘Context
is for Kings’). As noted above, Burnham develops deep friendships with
several members of the crew, most importantly with Cadet (later Ensign)
Sylvia Tilly and Lieutenant (later Lieutenant Commander) Paul Stamets
once she is brought aboard the U.S.S. Discovery by Captain Lorca. What
is more, season two explores not only Burnham’s relationship with her

5
For a critical exploration of the portrayal of Burnham as a black, female
scientist, see Amy Chambers’ essay ‘Star Trek Discovers Women: Gender,
Race, Science, and Michael Burnham’ in this volume.
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 293

foster-brother Spock, but also adds her mother, Dr. Gabrielle Burnham
(Sonja Sohn) as a pivotal character.
The relationship between the reserved Burnham and the much more
outgoing Tilly especially is one founded on friendship, mutual aid, and
support. In season one, it becomes increasingly important during the
Discovery’s time in the Mirror Universe. In episodes ten through 13 they
rely on and help each other survive the hostile environment they find
themselves in. When Tilly is apprehensive about pretending to be her
alter ego ‘Captain Killy’ in an effort to allow the ship to blend in and
take the place of the I.S.S. Discovery, Burnham reassures her by pointing
out that ‘Terran strength is born out of pure necessity because they live
in constant fear, always looking for the next knife aimed at their back’
and telling Tilly to draw strength from ‘an entire crew that believes in
[her]. That’s what a real captain does’ (1x10, ‘Despite Yourself’). This
reassurance does not only provide an instance of Burnham referencing
Tilly’s goal to become a captain and implying that she has the qualities
needed for that position, it is also an important observation about the
differences between the Prime and the Mirror Universe, one that affirms
the collaborative nature of life in the United Federation of Planets and
in Starfleet and contrasts it against the fascist dog-eat-dog mentality of
the Mirror Universe.
Tilly’s support of Burnham becomes most important after the ship
has found its way back into the Prime Universe, when Burnham deals
with the emotional consequences of Tyler’s role as an unwitting double
agent and his, or rather the Klingon Voq’s, attempt on her life. While
Burnham at first refuses any contact with Tyler after Voq’s consciousness
inside him has been killed, Tilly encourages her to talk to him: ‘Say
what you have to say, even if it’s goodbye’ (1x14, ‘The War Without,
the War Within’). Here, we see them switching their previous roles.
This reciprocal support and Burnham’s position as the protagonist avoid
the pitfall of making Burnham, a black woman, be the character who
props up a white character, a trope that the website TV Tropes refers to
as the ‘magical negro.’
In the first few episodes of season two, and especially in ‘Saints
of Imperfection’ (2x05), Burnham and Tilly’s friendship and mutual
support is emphasized again. After Tilly’s abduction into the mycelial
network at the end of ‘An Obol for Charon’ (2x04), 2x05 opens with
shots of a desperate Burnham and a voice-over narration that gestures
towards the depth of their friendship by implicitly comparing the loss
of Tilly to Stamets’ loss of his partner and by noting that ‘there is no
word for the unique agony of uncertainty. I do not yet know the fate
of my friend’ (2x05). This and Burnham’s ‘I thought I’d lost you’ upon
294 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

finding Tilly in the network highlight their close friendship, as does

Tilly’s decision to remain onboard the ship with Burnham and some
of the other crew members in ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part One’ (2x13)
when it becomes clear that Burnham and the Discovery need to travel to
the future. Beyond Tilly, Burnham is briefly shown to share friendships
with other female characters, for example Airiam (2x09) and, if not
a friendship then at least a relationship based in great mutual respect
with the ship’s new security chief Nhan (Rachael Ancheril; 2x10, ‘The
Red Angel’). This insistent focus on women’s mutual support, while
somewhat sidelined in the latter half of season two when the narrative
focuses more on Burnham’s relationship with her foster-brother Spock,
is a marked shift for Star Trek and science fiction shows in general,
especially because none of them are there to solely bolster and hold up
male characters, as Dupree has pointed out for the female characters
on TNG (2013, 283).
But Burnham and the other female characters on DSC are not only
a contrast when compared to female characters on older Star Trek
shows. The show also handles gender remarkably differently from more
recent movies, like Star Trek (2009), written by Roberto Orci and Alex
Kurtzman.6 Especially the representation of Lieutenant Uhura in these
movies, which center on familiar characters from TOS, but put them
into an alternate timeline commonly referred to as ‘Kelvin Universe,’
has reaped criticism. Deborah Tudor and Eileen R. Meehan (2013,
133), for example, have noted that her mere presence ‘should not be
mistaken for feminist progressivism; in fact, Uhura signifies the way
in which contemporary neoliberalism attempts to legitimate unequal
gender representations as natural.’ Diana A. Mafe even argues that
the 2009 film ‘signals a kind of retrograde for the character’ (2018,
143). DSC on the other hand, explicitly works against unequal gender
representations and pushes against gendered structures established by
former entries into the Star Trek franchise. This is clearly visible in the
centrality of female characters and the focus on their relationships with
each other that I have explored above. In addition, the resolution of the
Federation–Klingon War that dominates season one, and the ultimately
successful outcome of the final battle of season two, crucially depends
on the show’s female characters.
The war in season one ends when Burnham and the Klingon L’Rell,
T’Kuvma’s (Chris Obi) and later Voq’s right hand, reach a compromise

6
The marked contrast between the 2009 movie and DSC is even more
interesting because Alex Kurtzman has co-written three scripts for the
latter and has been the sole showrunner for season two.
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 295

during ‘Will You Take My Hand?’ (1x15). After learning of Mirror

Georgiou and Starfleet Command’s plan to end the war by destroying
all of Qo’noS, Burnham stands up to Cornwell, eventually prevailing
due to her insistence that the Federation’s principles ‘are all we have.’
Instead, they hand the detonator for the bomb intended to destroy
the planet to L’Rell as ‘an alternative’ to continued war. As Burnham
explains, ‘Klingons respond to strength. Use the fate of Qo’noS to bend
them to your will. Preserve your civilization rather than watch it be
destroyed’ (1x15). This scene once again exemplifies the centrality of
female characters in DSC. What is more, by featuring Burnham and
L’Rell as well as Cornwell and Mirror Georgiou as pivotal characters
in the resolution of this conflict, the show represents viewers with a
breadth of important, varied female characters, that earlier iterations of
the franchise never achieved.

‘Standing behind you I am free to move’: Gender

and Power in the Klingon Empire (L’Rell, 1x04, ‘The
Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry’)

L’Rell, who is, in many ways, a foil for Burnham, warrants attention
beyond this scene. In previous Star Trek series, Klingon culture has been
presented as deeply patriarchal with ‘male identity … communicated
through listing one’s male progenitor’ (Vande Berg, 1996, 62). Female
Klingons have only been featured as one-off or recurring characters in
previous shows, with the exception of the half-human, half-Klingon
B’Elanna Torres in VOY, who, similar to TNG’s K’Ehleyr (Suzie Plakson),
was characterized by deep anxieties about her mixed heritage and a
continuing struggle with her Klingon character traits. L’Rell, on the
other hand quickly becomes the central Klingon character on DSC and
the driving force behind the first season’s Klingon subplot. At the same
time, she occupies a liminal position that is similar to Burnham’s in
season one.7 Like Burnham, who is human but grew up on Vulcan,
L’Rell stands between two heritages:

My father was T’Kuvma’s blood kin, but my mother was House

Mo’Kai, the watcher clan, the deceivers, the weavers of lies. When

7
Other Klingon or half-Klingon characters whose liminality is comparable to
L’Rell’s are Voq as well as Tyler, who struggles with his hybridity especially
in ‘Point of Light’ (2x03), and Worf (Michael Dorn) in TNG. For a closer
exploration of the latter’s liminal status, see Leah R. Vande Berg (1996).
296 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

I was a child, she gave me a bat’leth and told me to cleave my

own heart. To choose one house over the other. Instead I built a
bridge to serve both. (1x04)

This not only foreshadows the later bridge-building Burnham and L’Rell
engage in, it is also a glimpse into the structure of Klingon society and
already represents somewhat of a rejection of its patriarchal structures
because L’Rell steps outside of, or rather across, the usual male line of
descent.
It also becomes clear early on that L’Rell and not Voq, T’Kuvma’s
chosen successor, is the better strategist of the two, convincing Voq to
forego T’Kuvma’s politics of Klingon purity to get a dilithium processor
from the wrecked U.S.S. Shenzhou so the Sarcophagus ship can be made
maneuverable again (1x04). In this conversation, she also tells him, ‘I
do not want the mantle of leadership. Standing behind you, I am free
to move’ (1x04). Her goal of furthering Klingon reunification, however,
is put in jeopardy by dissenting voices like General Kol’s (Kenneth
Mitchell). The leader of House Kor quickly moves to undermine and
exile Voq, making L’Rell’s position even more unstable. Kol is the
embodiment of the hypermasculine Klingon leader who, in contrast
to L’Rell, is interested in leadership for the sake of enlarging his own
power, not because of any larger political goal. In her negotiation of her
position under Kol’s leadership and the larger plot to disguise Voq and
bring him aboard the Discovery, L’Rell’s membership in House Mo’Kai
becomes especially interesting.
It is the matriarchs of House Mo’Kai who perform the procedure that
turns Voq into a copy of the human Starfleet officer Lieutenant Ash
Tyler. The explicit reference to these matriarchs, combined with L’Rell’s
prominent role in the show is interesting because it suggests that women
thrive and have a larger amount of influence in House Mo’Kai, which
specializes in spycraft. I read this as a commentary on power structures
in patriarchal societies like the Klingon Empire, which, dominated by
ideals of hypermasculinity and strict honor codes, require women and
other marginalized people to find ways to move within and around these
structures. L’Rell, by admitting to navigating these power structures
most effectively when she is standing in T’Kuvma’s and Voq’s shadows
(1x04), is a direct example of this. Once she more openly assumes a
position of power, the prejudices she faces as a female Klingon emerge
with a vengeance. While I have noted similarities between L’Rell and
Burnham where their liminality is concerned, they also act as foils for
each other here. The Klingon Empire and the Federation are presented
as embracing very different structures where gender and power are
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 297

concerned, structures that become even clearer after L’Rell assumes the
position of high chancellor at the end of season one (1x15).
These different structures are especially visible during the Klingon
subplot in ‘Point of Light’ (2x03). The exchanges between Kol-Sha
(Kenneth Mitchell), L’Rell, and Tyler that introduce this plot highlight
L’Rell’s precarious position as a female leader. The deceased Kol’s father
emerges as her main antagonist in this episode. This fact is, of course,
highly symbolic. Here patriarchy, embodied by Kol-Sha, is quite literally
trying to reassert itself. Kol-Sha’s first challenge to L’Rell centers on
Tyler’s presence at a High Council meeting. He uses explicitly gendered
and sexualized language: ‘If you want whatever this is as your plaything,
he belongs in your bed, not here’ (2x03). By describing Tyler, a Human–
Klingon hybrid, as ‘whatever this is,’ Kol-Sha demonstrates a rejection
of him that is based on a belief in Klingon supremacy. At the same
time, one can read this scene as a prime example for how misogyny
operates in a patriarchal society. Feminist philosopher Kate Manne
argues that ‘misogyny should be understood as the “law enforcement”
branch of a patriarchal order which has the overall function of policing
and enforcing its governing ideology’ (2018, 63; original emphasis). She
goes on to explain that

[m]isogyny attempts to force women back into [their place] or to

punish them for desertion. Alternatively, it may punish women for
taking men’s place or trying to. It does so via hostile treatment
enacted by individual agents as well as collective or group activity,
and purely structural mechanisms. (84)

Kol-Sha’s suggestion that Tyler is L’Rell’s ‘plaything’ and that his place
is in her bed (2x03), is exactly such an attempt at putting L’Rell back
into a feminized place because she dares to fill a role that was previously
only held by male Klingons. It is no surprise, then, that Kol-Sha’s
condescension towards Tyler and L’Rell are preparations for a longer
speech in which he attacks the political agenda she is in the process
of enacting.
Once viewers and later Kol-Sha learn about L’Rell and Voq’s son, the
latter turns out to be a point of weakness that further threatens her
chancellorship. Kol-Sha uses the child as a bargaining chip to try and
force L’Rell to turn her power over to him and is only stopped by the
appearance of Mirror Georgiou, newly recruited into Starfleet’s Section
31. The contrasts between Klingon and Federation society shown in 2x03,
I argue, are new for the Star Trek franchise in so far as similar plots in
previous shows usually invited readers to identify with the Federation
298 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

and what was portrayed as its superior values,8 affirming a feeling that
the Federation – and by extension the viewers – had moved beyond
gender inequality. Given the timing of DSC’s release, however, it is hard
not to read L’Rell’s situation as a comment on the misogynist backlash
currently underway in U.S. society and thus see the events in 2x03 as
an invitation to readers to identify with the Klingons in a departure
of the usual positioning. In this reading, the Federation becomes a
possible, idealized future that has not yet been reached in the twenty-first
century.9 After all, Michael Burnham’s rise to power within Starfleet is
presented as unimpeded by the kind of misogyny L’Rell faces.10
At the same time, this change of the usual identifications and
Georgiou saving L’Rell can be read as connected to the Federation’s
– and ultimately Star Trek’s – imperialism. As Vande Berg has argued
with regard to Worf’s position ‘cultural imperialism … is the dominant
discursive position affirmed by TNG’ (1996, 65). As she points out,
Klingon culture ‘[is] presented as primitive in contrast to the Federation’s
civility’ (1996, 62). This holds true in 2x03, too. Additionally, Georgiou’s
position as rescuer on behalf of the Federation evokes persistent,
post-9/11 discourses that used the situation of women in the global South
to argue for interventions by the United States and its Western allies.11
Georgiou’s explanation that ‘[w]e have to ensure that she stays in the
chancellor’s seat’ (2x03) and thus the admission that the Federation is
intervening in other species’ internal affairs, but not out of genuine
concerns for the advancement of gender equality, but rather to protect
its own interests, only makes this clearer.12

8
Vande Berg, for example, examines the way in which Worf’s initial approach
to paternity is portrayed ‘as a primitive one’ that needs to be ‘replace[d]
with those the dominant Federation culture accepts’ (64).
9
Similarly, Mary Chieffo, who plays L’Rell has noted that ‘embodying this
storyline is about reflecting a mirror to our society, like this is the extreme
of where we could go, this is what we have to understand is kind of the
extent of the female power’ (Ulster, 2019) in interviews before the season
premiere.
10
2x01 seems to highlight this tongue-in-cheek when Connolly (Sean
Connolly Affleck), a science officer who repeatedly and without apparent
reason questions Burnham’s expertise, gets killed after ignoring her
warnings during an action scene involving flying pods.
11
For a multifaceted engagement with feminism and imperialism and the
way in which feminist discourses and movements were (ab-)used in the
aftermath of 9/11, see Feminism and War: Confronting U.S. Imperialism (2008)
edited by Robin L. Riley, Chandra Talpade Mohanty, and Minnie Bruce
Pratt.
12
The Federation’s imperial tendencies and especially the imperial feminism
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 299

In addition to these larger readings, it is also possible to compare

L’Rell and Mirror Georgiou based on their position as rulers in patriarchal
societies. Georgiou, looking at L’Rell and her son, comments on the
inconvenience of children and how hers were looked after by someone
else to ensure her effectiveness (2x03). She also cautions L’Rell against
Tyler’s continued presence: ‘Every minute you remain here your councilors
must reorganize their tiny male brains why it isn’t them standing on
the dais. They will assume that all your decisions are Tyler’s’ (2x03).
Here, once again, DSC nods to the function of misogyny in patriarchal
societies. As Manne points out, ‘misogyny … may manifest itself when
women’s capabilities become more salient and hence demoralizing and
threatening’ (2018, 101). We also see Georgiou asking whether L’Rell
could kill Tyler and her son to preserve her power – and L’Rell’s refusal.
These scenes, then, imply both parallels between the patriarchal power
structures in the Terran and the Klingon Empire, and different ways
to negotiate them.

‘She is my mother’: Reframing Motherhood

in DSC (Michael Burnham, 2x10)

In addition, the plot of 2x03 can also be read as an allegory on

motherhood in contemporary culture and the question whether women
can ‘have it all,’ i.e. a career, children, and a successful family life.
Where L’Rell is concerned, DSC seems to answer this question with
a resounding ‘No.’ However, it does so by highlighting that it is the
patriarchal power structures of Klingon society that turn the child’s and
Tyler’s presence into elements that can be used against her. This is not
only driven home by L’Rell faking Tyler and the child’s death and her
declaration that she will have no more biological children, but also by
the new title that L’Rell, in a shrewd political move, announces in the
same breath: ‘Do not refer to me as chancellor, for I deserve a fiercer
title. From this point forth, you may call me Mother’ (2x03). This title
is also emphasized visually, through a darker, much less revealing outfit.
This additional title hearkens back to the matriarchs of House Mo’Kai
and reveals not only L’Rell’s determination and cunning as a politician,
but also, in conjunction with her new outfit, which female figures are
allowed positions of power in patriarchal cultures. It also mirrors one

that is presented and examined in Star Trek: Discovery is examined in more

depth in Judith Rauscher’s essay ‘“Into A Mirror Darkly”: Border Crossing
and Imperial(ist) Feminism in Star Trek: Discovery’ published in this volume.
300 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

of Emperor Georgiou’s titles, ‘Mother of the Fatherland’ (1x12, ‘Vaulting

Ambition’), once again highlighting parallels in the power structures
between these two empires and, through L’Rell’s hiding Tyler and the
child rather than killing them, the differences between these two rulers.
L’Rell and Georgiou are not the only mothers or mother figures who
appear in DSC’s second season, however. Burnham’s adoptive mother
Amanda (Mia Kirshner), Ambassador Sarek’s (James Frain) wife and
Lieutenant Spock’s mother, and Burnham’s own mother, Dr. Gabrielle
Burnham, also play important roles. While Amanda appears in 2x03 as
another foil for L’Rell, especially in her determination to protect her son,
Dr. Burnham, who is presumed dead, first features in the cliffhanger of
episode 2x10, and then in 2x11 (‘Perpetual Infinity’), which explores
not only her connection to the larger plot of the season – the Discovery’s
investigation of seven mysterious signals, a being called ‘the Red Angel,’
and the rogue A.I. Control – but also her relationship with Michael. Such
a number of mothers, and especially the number of scenes in which
their role as mothers is explored in connection to the overarching plot,
is uncommon for science fiction television shows. While ‘[t]he topic
of motherhood in general is a “media obsession”’ (Timson quoted in
Podnieks, 2012, 3), science fiction television ‘appears committed to the
absent mother’ (Feasey, 2017, 233).
This absence of mothers or representations of motherhood has mostly
been true for Star Trek, too, with Ericka Hoagland describing mothers
as an ‘“absent presence” in the Star Trek universe’ (2017, 127). While
TNG’s Dr. Crusher raises her teenaged son aboard the Enterprise-D, her
dual function as mother and ship’s doctor is mostly left unexplored and
‘her selfhood is contingent upon separating her from her identity as a
mother.’ At the same time, and paradoxically, Crusher’s (and Troi’s)
official functions are based on their private roles (Kanzler, 2004, 168;
Hoagland, 2017, 133). Other mothers, like Deep Space Nine’s Jennifer Sisko
(Felecia M. Bell), are dead before the show even starts. Thus, Hoagland’s
point that, ‘the narratives concerning femininity and, by extension,
motherhood, in Star Trek are noteworthy for their conventionality, rather
than their liberality’ (2017, 126) holds. Dr. Gabrielle Burnham starts
out as an absent mother with Burnham introduced as an orphan in
season one. However, episode 2x11 reveals that Dr. Burnham escaped
the Klingon attack that supposedly claimed her life by using an experi-
mental time suit she was working on at the time and traveling 950
years to the future. The episode also stresses the similarities between
Burnham and her mother, highlighting the fact that both women are
dedicated to their work as scientists and the goals they set themselves.
It is these goals that also make Dr. Burnham a different mother than
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 301

the ones we usually encounter in Star Trek. Hoagland, drawing on

Buchanan and the ‘flattening effect’ she describes (Buchanan, quoted
in Hoagland, 2017, 130), points out that it ‘manifests in two ways: one,
by casting female characters in roles that are easily coded within the
matrix of motherhood, and two, by generally diminishing the presence
and significance of mothers through a reliance on stereotypes and
outright expulsion’ (2017, 130). Dr. Burnham’s role, on the other hand,
is at first not easily realigned with dominant ideas of motherhood. Not
only is she connected to the ‘Red Angel,’ and thus central to season
two’s main plot, she has also, for the past 20 years, been attempting to
stop Control, the rogue A.I. that emerges as a major foe in the second
half of the season, from wiping out all sentient life. Specifically, she
needs to stop Control from gaining access to the data that the Discovery
collects from a dying alien sphere in 2x04, a mission that, ultimately, is
transferred to her daughter and the Discovery crew after she gets pulled
back into the future at the end of 2x11.13
This passing on of a vital mission from mother to daughter is
uncommon in science fiction television shows, especially so for black
women. It allows DSC to explore the relationship between Burnham and
her mother in ways that is groundbreaking for the Star Trek franchise. Dr.
Burnham at first keeps her distance from her daughter, requesting that
only the captain beam down to the facility where she is being held, and
later telling Burnham that their meeting ‘is meaningless’ (2x11). When
Burnham insists that their reunion matters and that Dr. Burnham’s
video logs indicate that she was trying to reunite with her family, her
mother replies: ‘I don’t know what you’ve been telling yourself all these
years, but I let you go a long time ago. I had to’ and ‘[t]here’s only
the bigger picture now. Nothing else’ (2x11). Here, the narrative seems
to be ‘separating her from her identity as a mother’ (Hoagland, 2017,
133). At first, then, Dr. Burnham remains, for all intents and purposes,
an ‘absent presence’ (127), pushing her daughter away in favor of her
self-appointed mission. As a scientist and in this exchange, she is different
from Dr. Crusher or Troi, whose work ‘[is] written as part and mere
extensions of their private existence’ (Kanzler, 2004, 168). Her refusal
to talk to Burnham, however, does not last. In a second, emotionally
charged exchange, Dr. Burnham says:

13
This episode also features an exchange between Dr. Burnham and Mirror
Georgiou that would be interesting to look at with regards to depictions of
motherhood in Star Trek, but that, for reasons of space, is not part of this
essay.
302 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

I watched you. When you first beamed aboard the Shenzhou with
Sarek, when you finally learned the Vulcan salute from Spock as
a child, … I was there when you read Alice in Wonderland out loud
to yourself on your 11th birthday pretending to read it to your
father and to me. I heard you, baby. I heard you. … Seeing you
reminded me of what I was fighting to save. (2x11)

This conversation occurs while Burnham and Stamets are attempting

to send the sphere data into the future to protect it from Control while
also keeping Dr. Burnham in the present. While, emotionality, as
Lynne Joyrich has pointed out, is one of ‘those traits considered most
inherently “feminine”’ (1996, 64), neither of the women are reduced to
their emotions. Their relationship and their emotions neither sideline
Burnham or her mother from the episode’s larger arc, nor do they have
to be disavowed. Instead, this scene allows them to own these feelings
and reconnect, emphasizing their relationship, the impact it has on
their identities, and their roles as scientists, a bold step forward from
the position of other mothers in Star Trek. What is more, Dr. Burnham’s
assertion that she was present for the most important moments of
Burnham’s life, and the revelation that she intervened to save her
daughter in some ways retroactively turns her from an absent into a
present mother. Unfortunately, the episode somewhat undercuts these
developments by the episode’s end, when Dr. Burnham is pulled back
to the future after the above exchange. As for Troi and Dr. Crusher,
integrating her functions as a scientist and mother, and the passing on
of her mission to her daughter, seem to ‘validat[e] [her] exclusion from
“tougher” jobs’ (Kanzler, 2004, 169). It remains to be seen if and how
season three will continue this exploration of motherhood in the Star
Trek universe.
Still, as with the friendships between female characters, DSC also
broadens the representation of mothers and of mother–daughter
relationships shown in the Star Trek franchise. In addition, it represents
a much wider range of different female characters and, by extension,
different femininities, through its main and supporting cast and, as
has been noted above, allows these characters to take on pivotal roles
throughout its first two seasons and especially in the finale of season
two. While Captain Pike and Commander Saru (Doug Jones) for the most
part remain on the bridge of the Enterprise and the Discovery respectively
during the final confrontation with Control in ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part
One and Two’ (2x13, 2x14), it is the female characters who get in on
the action, whether it is Burnham who uses a newly-built time suit
to open a wormhole to the future and signal the Discovery where – or
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 303

rather when – to jump to in order to get the sphere data out of Control’s
reach, Tilly who, with closed eyes, repairs a power conduit just in time
to save the ship’s shields, or Commander Reno, who exposes herself
to the effects of the time crystal to ensure the time suit is operational
when Burnham needs it. This focus on female characters, and female
characters who present a spectrum of femininity, from the sarcastic,
butch Reno to the bubbly, optimistic Tilly, is a large step away from the
overwhelmingly male teams that dominate other Star Trek series and
science fiction television shows in general.

New Directions for Women in Science Fiction Television

The first two seasons of DSC present a departure from earlier science
fiction shows on American television where the portrayal of female
characters is concerned. As this essay has shown, the show not only
offers a wide variety of female characters from different racial and ethnic
backgrounds and with different occupational specialties, it also allows
these characters to take center stage, especially in pivotal moments for
the show’s plot, moments that in the science fiction genre usually go
to male leads. In addition, DSC also focuses on the relationships, both
familial and friendship-based, between these women, subverting, in
some ways, established narrative choices like that of the absent mother.
In doing so, it at some moments transcends the often essentialized
and even conservative portrayals of female characters in earlier Star
Trek shows. In addition, it uses L’Rell, a complex female Klingon, to
interrogate patriarchal power structures and their impact on the personal
and the societal level while also highlighting the cultural imperialism
that is often part of the Federation’s engagement with other species.
With the Discovery’s jump 930 years into the future at the end of
season two, it will be interesting to see how these representational
strategies, and especially the exploration of Burnham’s relationship with
her mother, continue in the third season. What is more, since the show
no longer has to incorporate well-known – usually male – characters
in an attempt to integrate it into the franchise’s established timelines,
it consequently has the chance to not only focus even more on its core
crew, but also to go forward even more boldly in its portrayal of female
characters.
304 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Works Cited

Brian Attebery, Decoding Gender in Science Fiction (New York and London:
Routledge, 2002).
M. Keith Booker, Star Trek: A Cultural History (Lanham, MD: Rowman &
Littlefield, 2018).
Mark Bould, ‘Film and Television’, in Edward James and Farah Mendlesohn
(eds.) The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2003): 79–95.
Michèle A. Bowring, ‘Reistance is Not Futile: Liberating Captain Janeway
from the Masculine–Feminine Dualism of Leadership’, Gender, Work and
Organization, 11.4 (2004): 381–405.
Lindal Buchanan, Rhetorics of Motherhood (Carbondale: Southern Illinois
University Press, 2013).
Anne Cranny-Francis, ‘The Erotics of the (cy)Borg: Authority and Gender in
the Sociocultural Imaginary’, in Marleen S. Barr (ed.) Future Female, The
Next Generations: New Voices and Velocities in Feminist Science Fiction Criticism
(Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000): 145–63.
Aviva Dove-Viebahn, ‘Embodying Hybridity, (En)Gendering Community:
Captain Janeway and the Enactment of a Feminist Heterotopia on Star
Trek Voyager’, Women’s Studies, 36 (2007): 597–618.
M.G. Dupree, ‘Alien Babes and Alternate Universes: The Women of Star
Trek’, in Nancy R. Reagan (ed.) Star Trek and History (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley,
2013): 280–94.
Rebeccah Feasey, ‘Television and the Absent Mother: Why Girls and Young
Women Struggle to Find the Maternal Role’, in Berit Åström (ed.)
The Absent Mother in the Cultural Imagination (Berlin: Springer Nature,
2017): 225–40.
Robert Greenberger, Star Trek: The Complete Unauthorized History (Minneapolis,
MN: Voyageur Press, 2015).
Ericka Hoagland, ‘Mothering the Universe on Star Trek’, in Nadine Farghaly
and Simon Bacon (eds.) To Boldly Go: Essays on Gender Identity in the Star
Trek Universe (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2017): 126–42.
Veronica Hollinger, ‘Feminist Theory and Science Fiction’, in James and
Farah Mendlesohn (eds.) The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003): 125–36.
Sherrie A. Innes, Tough Girls: Women Warriors and Wonder Women in Popular
Culture (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999).
Lynne Joyrich, ‘Feminist Enterprise? “Star Trek: The Next Generation” and
the Occupation of Femininity’, Cinema Journal, 35.2 (1996): 61–84.
Katja Kanzler, ‘Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations’: The Multicultural
Evolution of Star Trek (Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 2004).
E. Ann Kaplan, Motherhood and Representation: The Mother in Popular Culture
and Melodrama (New York: Routledge, 2013).
Victoria B. Korzeniowska, ‘Engaging with Gender: Star Trek’s “Next
Generation”’, Journal of Gender Studies, 6.1 (1996): 19–25.
 NOT YOUR DADDY’S STAR TREK 305

Diana A. Mafe, Where No Black Woman Has Gone Before: Subversive Portrayals
in Speculative Film and TV (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2018).
‘Magical Negro’, TV Tropes, https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/
MagicalNegro.
Kate Manne, Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2018).
Helen Merrick, ‘Gender in Science Fiction’, in James and Farah Mendlesohn
(eds.) The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2003): 241–52.
Elizabeth Podnieks, ‘Introduction: Popular Cultures Maternal Embrace’,
in Elizabeth Podnieks (ed.) Mediating Moms: Mothers in Popular Culture
(Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press, 2012): 3–32.
Diana M.A. Relke, Drones, Clones, and Alphababes: Retrofitting Star Trek’s Liberal
Humanism, Post 9/11 (Calgary: University of Calgary Press, 2006).
Robin L. Riley, Chandra Talpade Mohanty, and Minnie Bruce Pratt (eds.),
Feminism and War: Confronting U.S. Imperialism (London and New York:
Zed Books, 2008).
Deborah Tudor and Eileen R. Meehan, ‘Demoting Women on the Screen
and in the Board Room’, Cinema Journal, 53.1 (2013): 130–36.
Laurie Ulster, ‘Interview: Mary Chieffo On L’Rell’s Sensuality, Power, And
“Klingon Couture” In “Star Trek: Discovery”’, TrekMovie, 22 January (2019),
https://trekmovie.com/2019/01/22/interview-mary-chieffo-on-lrells-
sensuality-power-and-klingon-couture-in-star-trek-discovery/.
Jon Wagner and Jan Lundeen, Deep Space and Sacred Time: Star Trek and the
American Mythos (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1998).

Episodes and Films Cited

‘Battle at the Binary Stars.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Adam Kane, CBS Television Studios,
24  September, 2017.
‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 1 October, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 8 October, 2017.
‘Lethe.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Joe Menosky and Alex Kurtzman,
directed by Douglas Aarniokoski, CBS Television Studios, 22 October,
2017.
‘Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by John Scott, CBS Television Studios, 5 November, 2017.
‘Despite Yourself.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Sean Cochran, directed by
Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television Studios, 7 January, 2018.
306 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘The Wolf Inside.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa Randolph, directed by
T.J. Scott, CBS Television Studios, 14 January, 2018.
‘Vaulting Ambition.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordon Nardino, directed
by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios, 21 January, 2018.
‘The War Without, the War Within.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa
Randolph, directed by David Solomon, CBS Television Studios, 4 February,
2018.
‘Will You Take My Hand?’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television Studios,
11 February, 2018.
‘Brother.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron Harberts,
and Ted Sullivan, directed by Alex Kurtzman, CBS Television Studios,
17 January, 2019.
‘Point of Light.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Andrew Colville, directed by
Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 31 January, 2019.
‘An Obol for Charon.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Alan McElroy
and Andrew Colville, directed by Lee Rose, CBS Television Studios,
7  February, 2019.
‘Saints of Imperfection.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by David Barrett, CBS Television Studios, 14 February, 2019.
‘Project Daedalus.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Michelle Paradise, directed
by Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television Studios, 14 March, 2019.
‘The Red Angel.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Chris Silvestri and Anthony
Maranville, directed by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios,
21 March, 2019.
‘Perpetual Infinity.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Alan McElroy and
Brandon Schultz, directed by Maja Vrvilo, CBS Television Studios,
28  March, 2019.
‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part One and Two.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written
by Michelle Paradise, Jenny Lumet, and Alex Kurtzman, directed by
Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 11/18 April, 2019.

Star Trek. 2009. Directed by J.J. Abrams. Written by Roberto Orci and Alex
Kurtzmann. Spyglass Entertainment and Bad Robot Productions.
 ‘We Choose Our Own Pain.
Mine Helps Me Remember’
Gabriel Lorca, Ash Tyler, and the Question
of Masculinity
Sabrina Mittermeier and Jennifer Volkmer

This chapter wants to discuss how Star Trek: Discovery (DSC) depicts
masculinity by taking a closer look at the characters of Captain Gabriel
Lorca (Jason Isaacs) and Lieutenant Ash Tyler (Shazad Latif) as the
prime examples the show offers of both hegemonic and potentially
alternative (heterosexual) masculinities in its first season, and will also
address the character of Captain Christopher Pike (Anson Mount) that
was integrated in its second season, but has roots in The Original Series.1
We argue that with its original characters, DSC directly engages with
and subverts existing tropes of post-network television generally, as well
as the science fiction and action genres, and the Star Trek franchise in
particular. To do so, we will discuss several concepts of masculinity, most
importantly hegemonic masculinity and toxic masculinity. While there
are as many masculinities as there are men, hegemonic masculinity
encompasses the ideas of a certain society about what traits a man
should possess. In Discovery, so we will argue, this is embodied by Lorca –
something that the show only reveals gradually, playing with tropes that
have become ingrained in post-network television. Additionally, toxic
masculinity is the current term to describe certain traits that are often
part of hegemonic masculinity, but as an ideal to aspire to are ultimately
detrimental to men and the societies they live in, such as physical

1
While Lorca, Tyler and Pike are of course not the only central male
characters, the fact that Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) is a homosexual man
(who is discussed in another chapter in this book) and also not trained
in Starfleet provides an alternative here, but since we specifically want
to engage with military and hegemonic straight masculinities, we choose
not to discuss him here in more detail. Saru (Doug Jones) is also left out
since his different species would warrant a much more in-depth look than
this chapter could offer scope-wise, the same is true for the Klingon Kol
(Kenneth Mitchell).

307
308 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

strength and violent tendencies.2 We will engage with these models

throughout, and also place them in a context of military masculinities,
as Starfleet is a quasi-militaristic organization, and the first season of
DSC is set in a war context, shaping both Lorca’s and Tyler’s journeys
– and to a lesser extent, also Pike’s in the second season.

‘Rules are for admirals in back offices’ (1x06, Lethe)

Television scholar Shawn Shimpach has argued that while the action
heroes of the post-network era are now performing competitive
masculinities, and are

facing cultural and textual threats to their claims of universal

signification, these heroes still very much represent normative white
masculinity. Each of these heroes evinces plentiful masculine heroic
traits such as rough physicality, short patience for bureaucratic
impediments, detailed knowledge of obscure subjects, and easy
aptitude with weapons and technology. (2010, 44)

Discovery’s Captain Lorca is the embodiment of this type. His lack of

patience for bureaucracy is highlighted time and time again over the
course of season one, sometimes humorously, like his indifference to the
gormagander’s fate in ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad’ (1x07),
most often, however, in more serious scenes, for example when he clashes
with Starfleet Command over Discovery’s missions. His repeated disregard
for Admiral Terral’s (Conrad Coates) orders might, in hindsight, stem
from the fact that the latter is Vulcan, but he is equally exasperated
with Admiral Cornwell (Jayne Brook), to whom he declares that ‘rules
are for admirals in back offices’ in ‘Lethe’ (1x06). His rough physicality
is contrasted with that of other males on the ship, particularly scientist
Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp). In ‘Choose Your Pain’ (1x05), Lorca is
held as a prisoner of war and beaten and bloodied, something that is
echoed later when he breaks his own nose as part of a cover up for the
backstory he concocts to infiltrate Emperor Georgiou’s (Michelle Yeoh)
palace ship in ‘Despite Yourself’ (1x10).
He also has all the skills Shimpach mentions: he keeps his own
laboratory on the Discovery containing not only an assortment of weapons

2
What constitutes toxic masculinity and its negative effects on men and
people surrounding them is discussed, among others, by Terry Kupers
(2005).
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 309

(such as a Klingon bat’leth), but also dead and preserved creatures, such
as the newly-caught tardigrade that he also wishes to weaponize (1x04,
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry’). Over the first half
of the season, he also acquires enough knowledge about the spore drive
and collects the data from the jumps to eventually successfully override
the computer and complete his journey back to his home dimension.
Before he is revealed as a Terran, his behavior is continuously chalked
up to his identity as a military man (one that potentially suffers from
PTSD) and his status as the captain of the Discovery that has become
Starfleet’s most powerful weapon in the war effort. While he clashes with
Command more than once, most of his unusual actions (including the
sanctioning of Stamets’ self-inflicted eugenics experiments) are possible
because he was seemingly given a carte blanche by them in order to
win the war. As he informs Stamets in episode 1x04, the Discovery is no
longer a science vessel, but a warship, and he eventually prides himself
on turning his crew into ‘fierce warriors’ (1x09, ‘Into the Forest’). The
show also draws a direct connection between him and Captain Benjamin
Sisko (Avery Brooks), the only other wartime captain, who in Star Trek:
Deep Space Nine’s (1993–1999) aptly-titled ‘Favor the Bold’ (6x05) leads
the U.S.S. Defiant into battle during the Dominion War, quoting an old
saying: ‘Fortune favors the bold.’ Lorca says the exact same words to
Cornwell in ‘Lethe’ when he sends her off to meet with the Klingons,
eventually leaving her to die – thus making the scene much more sinister
in hindsight, and putting a spin on this echo of Sisko.
The impression of Lorca as a salty military man that ‘gets the job
done’ is further heightened by his Southern US accent, which actor Jason
Isaacs chose deliberately in order to play into this trope, roughly basing it
on military officers that he worked with on a previous project (FedCon,
2018). The accent emerges more strongly in scenes where he is in his
element as a military leader, for example when he tells his first officer
Saru (Doug Jones) to ‘get us the hell outta dodge’ in episode 1x04, or
greets him and the ship with ‘the cavalry showed up’ one episode later.
Audiences are used to this type of character, not just from action movies,
but also particularly from the war genre, and the ideas of masculinity
that come with it. As Eberwein (2007) has argued, ‘war film originates
in a gendered context that valorizes masculinity at a time of war’ (6).
Higate and Hopton (2005) have further elaborated on the inherent ties
between military men and hegemonic ideas of masculinity:

Traditionally, the casual sexism, competitiveness, and celebration

of aggression and the domination of others that are characteristic
of hegemonic masculinity have been explicitly and unambiguously
310 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

reflected in military culture. … Similarly, militarism (i.e., the

celebration of military culture in national politics and popular
culture) has represented an affirmation of the legitimacy of
hegemonic masculinity. (14–15)

As the viewer, then, it is easy to excuse Lorca’s behavior as it is rooted

in such a long tradition of mediated images of both military officers and
men in general that get away with breaking the rules and their attitude
that ‘sometimes, the ends justify terrible means,’ as Lorca points out to
Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) (1x11, ‘The Wolf Inside’).
Mittell has argued that white male anti-heroes, characters he also calls
‘hideous men,’ have become a staple of twenty-first century American
television (2015, 142–43). Some of these ‘stretch a rebellious member
of a typically upright organization to its moral limits’ (143), which is
exactly what Lorca does to the members of his crew, and particularly to
Burnham, who, however, remains firmly rooted in her Starfleet values
– something he fails to understand and that ultimately contributes to
his downfall.
The prevalence of these anti-heroes has also led to what Mittell terms
‘fictionalized Stockholm Syndrome, in which time spent with hideous
characters engenders our sympathy as we start to see things from their
perspective’ (2015, 144). In the case of Lorca, this is also aided by the
audience’s expectation to identify with the Starfleet captain as the
protagonist, as will be discussed further below. The tendency of viewers
to excuse what is essentially abusive behavior on an anti-hero’s/Lorca’s
part is also connected to charisma that ‘largely stems from an actor’s
performance and physicality but is also cued by how other characters
treat the antiheroes’ (144). Isaacs delivers a very charismatic performance
(one that is also aided by his accent) and while characters like Stamets
are continuously opposed to Lorca’s actions, Burnham, the protagonist,
is much more sympathetic towards him, as is Ash Tyler, who is, thus,
additionally guiding the viewers’ perception and judgment.3

3
The way other main characters treat a character is essential to the audience’s
perception of that character; if a character is supposed to be read as the
villain, other main characters that are framed as the heroes cannot treat
them like a friend if we are to understand that they are adversaries.
Additionally, here the opposition of Lorca and Stamets also plays into
the American anti-intellectualism propagated especially in action movies
where the (military) hero’s brute force often is the only working answer
as opposed to scientists’ more intricately thought-out solutions that are
usually less extreme.
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 311

‘Gettin’ outta here was always a two-men job. I just waited

till I found the right man’ (1x05, ‘Choose Your Pain’)

Lorca’s relationship with Ash Tyler is equally rooted in his status as

a military man. They meet as prisoners of war on the Klingon prison
ship, and Lorca immediately addresses Tyler as ‘soldier’ (1x05). They
bond over their shared fate in the prison, particularly their shared
loss and pain. Tyler recalls having been captured at the Battle of the
Binary Stars, the event that began the war, and Lorca relates his story
of having to sacrifice his whole crew on the U.S.S. Buran to save them
from torture and slow death at the hands of the Klingons. Tyler admits
to having suffered not only torture, but also sexual abuse from their
captor L’Rell (Mary Chieffo), while Lorca claims his light sensitivity is
a direct consequence of the Buran’s explosion. Both of the stories are
revealed to be false by the end of the season, but at this moment, it
furthers the narrative of a war-ridden Starfleet and creates sympathy
for both characters (and for each other), culminating in the scene after
their successful escape when Lorca remarks: ‘We choose our own pain.
Mine helps me remember’ (1x05). The next episode, ‘Lethe,’ (1x06)
then sees them building on this homosocial bond when they participate
in a shooting simulation, a scene visibly recreating action hero tropes.
Consequently, Lorca appoints Tyler as his new chief of security. This
type of bond then is clearly rooted in their military prowess, but also
Tyler’s willingness to subordinate himself to Lorca, a willingness that,
as Isaacs has clarified, directly fuels Lorca’s interest in Tyler (Destination
Star Trek, 2018).
Over the course of the series, then, Lorca is revealed as a textbook
abuser, including in his relationship with Tyler. The type of homosocial,
militaristic bond between the two is something Lorca had previously
shared only with Landry (Rekha Sharma), the former chief of security
on the Discovery. Yet, the reveal that he is actually a Terran and, thus,
a fascist, as well as Tyler’s vulnerability in his relationship to Burnham
and his hybrid identity throw their characterization as military men into
sharp relief, and consequently criticize prevailing ideas of hegemonic
masculinity.
While Lorca’s status as a wartime leader differentiates him from
previous Starfleet captains, he still fits the mold – he is a white,
middle-aged, presumably heterosexual4 man. While Deep Space Nine

4
It is unclear whether Mirror Georgiou’s comments in 2x10 that everyone in
the Mirror Universe is pansexual is merely a taunt or meant to be serious,
but we only ever see or hear about Lorca engaging in sexual relationships
312 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

(DS9) had an African-American man in the lead with the aforemen-

tioned Captain Sisko and also dealt with war, the series was structured
differently because of its setting on a starbase rather than a ship, as
well as the fact that Sisko is a commander for the first few seasons
and only becomes a captain later. Star Trek: Voyager (VOY) (1995–2001)
was the first series to put a woman in the captain’s chair with Kathryn
Janeway (Kate Mulgrew), but this choice received backlash from fans
early on and, despite its long run, never gained quite the cult status
that earlier shows had (Booker, 2018, 28). Thus, the epitome of the
Starfleet captain remains the one in charge of the Enterprise: be it James
T. Kirk (William Shatner) in The Original Series (TOS) (1966–1969), or his
successor, Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart) in The Next Generation (TNG)
(1987–1994), or even, besides it being a relative critical flop, Jonathan
Archer (Scott Bakula) in Enterprise (ENT) (2001–2005). It is an archetype
that also transcends audiences of the franchise, as characters like Kirk
or Picard have become recognizable to non-Trekkies as well, not least
of all because of internet meme culture.
It is thus a curious choice that in its second season, DSC opts to
install Christopher Pike as the ship’s new captain. The character stems
from the original pilot for TOS, ‘The Cage’ and the two-parter ‘The
Menagerie,’ (TOS, 1x11; 1x12) and is the captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise
before Kirk takes the helm. Pike becomes the temporary captain of
the Discovery within the second season’s premiere and remains in this
position until the ship’s jump into an unknown future at the season
finale. He also seemingly establishes himself as a contrast to Lorca in
that he is transparent about his background and reveals that he sat out
the war with the Klingons on the sidelines (2x01, ‘Brother’). Yet, he
also rebuffs Michael and establishes his authority more than once, and
his actions remain somewhat unclear over particularly the first half of
the season (possibly due to the mid-season showrunner change). Instead
his arc is brought into full circle with the events in TOS when he has to
face what is framed as his fate, being physically disfigured and injured
due to a training accident and having to rely on a support chair (2x12
‘Through the Valley of Shadows’). The narrative explanation of this as
a form of destiny then, is interesting in light of Lorca’s own claims that
he is ‘living proof that fate is real,’ (1x13, ‘What’s Past is Prologue’) and
his understanding of his rightful place to rule the Terran Empire that is
quickly shown to be nothing but white, male hubris. Pike’s claims seem
to dismantle this idea somewhat, even if they might have possibly been

with women, despite his chemistry with Mirror Stamets that has sparked
at least a few slash fics.
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 313

intended to be a deliberate contrast, as he accepts a gruesome personal

fate to save Starfleet (and franchise canon), whereas Lorca only cares
for himself. His choice to live with this future is further explained to
be made precisely because he is a Starfleet captain and, for him, that
means believing in ‘service, sacrifice, compassion, and love’ (2x12),
another contrast to Lorca, who never filled any of these criteria. This is
also hinted at in ‘Choose Your Pain’ (1x05), when Saru pulls up a list of
the most decorated Starfleet captains, which features Pike, and further
cemented when Cornwell declares him ‘the best of Starfleet’ (2x09).
While this perpetuates the idea that Lorca does not embody this ideal,
it is arguably problematic in that the show now presents us with yet
another straight, white male as something to aspire to, and thus seems
to return to the franchise’s initial framing of its humanist values as only
to be embodied by straight white males like Picard and Kirk.5 While the
character of Lorca in many ways served as an implicit criticism of the
trope of the Starfleet captain, Pike seems to reconfirm it – even if his
behavior otherwise can be classified as non-toxic masculine.
The captain is also usually the character that narratives across
Star Trek shows center on, often framing the narrative of individual
episodes through their captain’s logs. This choice was apparently made
early on for TOS so as not to ‘confuse’ the audience, in spite of Gene
Roddenberry’s personal wishes to focus on the whole crew of the
Enterprise (Pearson and Davies, 2014, 114). DSC on the other hand
is centered around Michael Burnham, an African American woman
– and yet, audiences are conditioned, we argue, to turn towards the
captain for guidance. This was, for instance, noticeable in the media’s
reactions to the show that focused a great deal on Jason Isaacs over
Martin-Green, and even in CBS’s official promos for each episode that
usually featured Lorca’s dialogue as voice over rather than Burnham’s.
Such audience expectations and the network’s deliberate positioning of
Lorca as a narrative center in these promos then further contribute to
the normalization of Lorca’s actions, the above discussed ‘fictionalized
Stockholm syndrome’ (Mittell, 2015, 144). In this context, it is also
interesting to note that the character of Pike received a very positive
echo in the press as well as with the fanbase – as the second season has
concluded, there is a seemingly ever-growing group of fans that would

5
This is especially confusing since Burnham was shown as the embodiment
of Starfleet’s core (humanist) values at the end of season one, directly
opposing Command to protect these values and Starfleet’s integrity, while
Pike is only said to embody them, but never truly put to the test up until
2x12.
314 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

like to see a Pike-centric spin-off focusing on a pre-TOS Enterprise, which

would de facto be a step back for a franchise that, as season three of
DSC has been greenlit, still is helmed by a black woman. Despite such
fan wishes, the showrunners however continue with Martin-Green at
the helm, since Anson Mount is not slated to return, and the Discovery
jumped into an uncertain future at the end of season two without the
TOS-based characters on board. Nevertheless, the introduction of Pike
has only further enforced the existing archetype of the Starfleet captain
instead of continuing to dismantle it.

‘No matter how deep in space you are, I always feel

like you can see home’ (1x03, ‘Context is for Kings’)

This archetype, as Stefan Rabitsch has argued, is modelled on

the romanticized British naval officer/hero in the vein of Horatio
Hornblower. Ultimately, Lorca emerges as a perverted version of that
ideal. While he remains a ‘man alone’ (Rabitsch, 2018, 124), he does
not, as previous captains, lead by ‘judicious example’ and also does
not form ‘an archetypal Nelsonian “band of brothers (and sisters)”’
with his officers (Rabitsch, 2018, 123), regularly seeking their advice.
Pike, however, is shown to do so over the course of the second season,
further cementing the trope, if providing an alternative to Lorca,
who, as his first officer Saru points out, ‘keeps his own counsel’
(1x04). Lorca’s story mirrors (pun intended) that of ‘naval pathfinder’
(Rabitsch, 2018, 118; original emphasis) Kathryn Janeway, who ends
up stranded on the other side of the galaxy and has to go back home
to the Alpha Quadrant. When we first meet him in ‘Context is for
Kings,’ (1x03) Lorca is seen gazing out at the stars that reflect in his
eyes and remarks: ‘No matter how deep in space you are, I always
feel like you can see home.’ He refers to ‘home’ several times over the
course of the following episodes, most notably in ‘Into the Forest I Go’
(1x09), before he secretly overrides the console to jump back to his
dimension with the words ‘Let’s go home!’ Yet while Janeway always
looks out for her crew and is hellbent on bringing all of them home
safely, Lorca only cares about himself, and even endangers his crew
to get back to the Mirror Universe. In addition to this first scene, he
is frequently seen looking outside into space, be it in his ready room,
his quarters or on the bridge – an acting choice apparently made by
Isaacs, who wanted to convey that Lorca did not want to be where
he was and was constantly keeping his eye on the goal to return to
rule the Terran Empire (FedCon, 2018).
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 315

E. Leigh McKagen, however, rightly argues that VOY’s dealings with

the Delta Quadrant follow in the problematic footsteps of nineteenth
century adventure narratives and their inherent imperialist ideology.
Janeway and her crew are shown mapping and naming the ‘uncharted’
territory – ‘“uncharted,” of course, only to the Federation’ (2018, 7) – and
so the show contributes to a normalization and legitimization of empire
(2018, 4). Lorca is seen in engaging in similar tactics by using the data
from the spore drive jumps to chart his own way back via the mycelial
network. Aside from this being another case of him mentioning ‘home’
as an anchor point to return to, the Terrans are imperialist rulers that
either wipe out or oppress all other species that they consider racially
inferior, a fact that is foreshadowed by Lorca’s laboratory, which is
essentially a colonial trophy room. The fact that Lorca passes so easily
in the Federation structure, then, can be seen, so we argue, as an
inherent criticism of ‘Star Trek’s … continuous retelling of Anglocentric
sagas of colonialism and imperialism’ (Rabitsch, 2018, 176).6 Additionally,
while all Terrans, including the female Emperor Georgiou, adhere to
these ideals, there are well-researched ties between ideas of hegemonic
masculinity and colonialism – and adventure narratives have similarly
been categorized as an inherently masculine genre (Connell, 2005, 76),
further tying Lorca’s character back to previously discussed tropes.
The Terrans’ ideals, which are clearly rooted in present-day white
supremacy, are also reflected in Lorca’s Southern accent. While still in
the Prime Universe, the accent only shines through in moments when
he feels most in his element as a military leader (as discussed above) or
when he drops his guise because he is agitated. In ‘Choose Your Pain’
(1x04), for example, there is a notable moment when L’Rell tortures
him. She comments on his eyes, which, as it later turns out, are a
genetic marker from the Mirror Universe (1x12, ‘Vaulting Ambition’),
and he quips: ‘Oh we all got somethin’, honey.’ He proceeds to taunt her
about her sexual relationship to Tyler on racist grounds, pointing out
that humans ‘don’t even have the right number of organs’ for Klingons,
suggesting his disdain for what he perceives as miscegenation. Isaacs,
who improvised some of these lines (Destination Star Trek, 2018), thus
draws a clear connection between these racist (and sexist) undertones
and the use of the Southern accent. The racist implications of this
accent are then even further stressed by the fact that, as soon as Lorca
enters his home dimension, and particularly when his true identity is

6
Judith Rauscher’s chapter in this volume on ‘“Into A Mirror Darkly”: Border
Crossing and Imperial(ist) Feminism in Star Trek: Discovery’ further addresses
Star Trek’s inherent ties to imperialism.
316 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

finally revealed in 1x12, the accent becomes much more pronounced

throughout.
Yet, Lorca’s reveal as a fascist, also exhibiting what Mittell has
termed ‘Machiavellian intelligence’ (2015, 145), does not only subvert
televised tropes of masculinity (or rather takes them to their most
extreme conclusion), it also emerges as a zeitgeisty plea to recognize
the wolves among us. As Isaacs adds in regard to the Mirror Universe,
it is depicted as

a world where some people believe in racial purity and are against
immigration, and they think it’s okay to lie to get what you want,
and that in the end the weak should be treated harshly. Sadly, those
views are prevalent in the world today, and in fact there are people
in seats of power who espouse those views every day. It’s not a
coincidence that I [Lorca] was sort of encouraging my followers to
make the Empire Great Again. (Inverse, 2018)

As white supremacist ideals never vanished, but rather lay largely

dormant for decades, and are now moving back to the forefront, the
narrative surrounding his character thus indeed strikes a nerve.

‘There were so many women. It’s good to be

the Captain’ (1x12, ‘Vaulting Ambition’)

Isaacs, while admitting that he ‘reverse engineered’ the character of

Lorca, since he ‘had to be unlike any other Captain’ (Telegraph, 2017)
due to his Terran heritage, has said that he has also played him as a
‘subtle tribute to Kirk,’ (ET, 2017) when it comes to his relationships
with women:

I think in this tradition of Star Trek captains and these alpha males
who rise to the top, he’s got a taste for the good life and he’s got
an eye for his female officers. … It was clear Captain Kirk had
his way with any member of the micro-skirted crew members he
wanted. (ET 2017)

While Kirk is notorious for being a ladies’ man, Picard has had his
fair share of dalliances too. Besides the often hinted at flirtation with
the unavailable Dr. Beverly Crusher (Gates McFadden), he is also given
backstory with several other female officers, usually admirals that visit
the Enterprise for the duration of one episode. Much of the appeal of the
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 317

Starfleet captain thus lies in his sexual prowess – tying the archetype
back to the trope of the action hero and military man. After all, as
Higate and Hopton (2007) state, ‘there are clear links between milita-
ristic attitudes, male self-esteem, and sexual charisma’ (14–15). Lorca’s
Southern accent also plays a role in this context, as Isaacs had partially
chosen it because Lorca can be ‘immensely charming’ (quoted in Miller,
2017). Indeed, the captain is shown to be mostly courteous towards
Burnham throughout the first half of the season, yet his actual intentions
are much more sinister, as his treatment of other women indicates. With
his first appearance in ‘Context is for Kings’ (1x03), he is established
right away to have a problematic sexual relationship with his subordinate
Commander Landry. While it is never made explicit, both actors have
confirmed this,7 and it is heavily implied in the subtext: ‘Anything,
anytime, Captain,’ Landry suggestively tells Lorca (1x03). He also goes
on to seduce Admiral Cornwell in order to distract her from the fact that
he does not remember the history she shares with his Prime Universe
alter ego in the aptly titled ‘Lethe’ (1x06). Both characters are also
revealed to have relationships with him in his home universe – Mirror
Landry is his loyal right-hand woman (1x13) while Cornwell so far
has only appeared in the comics but seems to be loyal to him there as
well (Beyer and Johnson, 2018). In 1x12, Lorca is also revealed to have
mistreated another woman named Ava, until ‘something better came
along.’ For him, people, but particularly women, are interchangeable,
as Whit Frazier Peterson also argues in his chapter of this book, and
Lorca says earlier in the same episode: ‘There were so many women.
It’s good to be the Captain.’ Lorca’s toxic masculinity is thus not only
put in line with those of right-wing movements currently reemerging
in the Western world, but also implicitly criticizes the sexist undertones
of previous Starfleet captains, particularly TOS’s Kirk.8
In addition to these women, Lorca also has a troubling relationship
with Burnham. He is revealed to have been her lover in the Mirror
Universe, but with a stomach-churning twist: Emperor Georgiou, who

7
Originally, there had been a scene shot that would have made this
relationship much more sexually explicit, something Rekha Sharma
described as #MeToo related on a panel on Star Trek: The Cruise III in 2019.
8
Pike is in this context hard to pinpoint – his slightly flirtatious demeanor
with Tilly in the second season’s premiere made at least the authors of this
chapter slightly uneasy, but since he is not shown to enter any inappro-
priate sexual relationships with crew members over the course of his arc,
his character at least does not reconfirm these traits of the trope. The only
romantic, if not sexual, relationship he is shown in with is Vina (Melissa
George), another character from ‘The Cage.’
318 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

served as a maternal figure to Burnham, explains that Lorca was her

ersatz father, until she came of age, and that he ‘groomed’ her (1x12), a
term usually reserved for sexual predators preying on underage children.
His relationship with her in his home dimension is also why he seeks
her out once he crosses into the Prime Universe, since he believes in
destiny across universes, and that, consequently, the Michael Burnham
we have come to know will eventually rule beside him. This entitlement
is what also leads to his downfall, because in contrast to what he tells
her in ‘Context is for Kings,’ he does in fact not know her at all. He
is incapable of understanding Michael as a person, her morals and, in
turn, those of Starfleet, as for the Terrans, their ideals of equality are
but an experiment doomed to fail. Lorca fails because of his white male
privilege, his entitlement, and he dies at the hands of the women he
betrayed, giving his character a rather satisfying ending.

‘You are my tether. You bring me back’

(1x11, ‘The Wolf Inside’)

In contrast to Lorca and his purely sexual affairs, Ash Tyler enters into
an actual romantic and sexual relationship with Michael Burnham. For
instance, Tyler freely shares his feelings and childhood memories with
Burnham, such as stories of him and his father fishing (1x08, ‘Si Vis
Pacem Para Bellum’). As Plummer argues ‘it is in the creation of new
stories, narratives, and dialogues regarding men’s different sexual lives
that we can start to glimpse the potential for changing the hegemony’
(Plummer, 2005, 192). Unlike the extremely secretive Lorca, Tyler thus
offers Burnham a look at his true self and creates room for her to
safely share her own thoughts, memories and emotions. This creates
the basis for an equal partnership, thus showing a different distri-
bution of emotional labor than the usual representation of heterosexual
relationships on screen.
The trained psychiatrist Cornwell alerts Lorca to the necessity of
psychological evaluation and treatment of Tyler, before he can resume
his duty. Lorca, however, denies this, again emphasizing his prioritization
of military duties over mental and emotional health for himself and his
crew (1x06). When Tyler starts to experience flashbacks, he initially
tries to cover up these lapses, even when directly confronted about
them by Burnham (1x10). This behavior shows how alike Tyler and
Lorca can be and how much Tyler looks up and tries to emulate him;
however, it is Tyler that ultimately subverts the captain’s toxic ideals of
masculinity. Actor Shazad Latif has commented that ‘what could you
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 319

see in the first few episodes [of Tyler], it’s just a classic American action
hero,’ but that as the first season progresses, this idea is ‘flipped on its
head’ (Okay Player, 2018). There was a conscious decision on behalf of
the actor, and the writers, to interrogate this trope:

I just wanted to do something that, one, wasn’t boring, and two,

that’s progressive and of its time. … With all this going on right
now [such as #metoo], especially, any character who adheres to
the classic male action hero just seems outdated. It needs to be
deeper than that. Otherwise, it’s just going to fall by the wayside
when you’re watching it, and I just become another boring male
character running around shooting stuff. (Latif, The Verge, 2018)

Tyler’s willingness to be vulnerable is one of the most visible markers

of this subversion, and it is most apparent in his relationship with
Burnham. While he initially tries to hide his problems arising from his
split personality (or rather, personhood), he does share them eventually,
but they are framed in a context of PTSD – drawing another parallel
between him and Lorca, though he initially makes Burnham his
co-conspirator, as already discussed above: Tyler is forging bonds and
Lorca is failing to do so, if not actively avoiding it. While Lorca engages
in sexual relationships with various women, we also know that he knows
none of them intimately; instead, he is projecting his own ideology and
fantasies onto them. Lorca’s interactions with Cornwell prior to sleeping
with her are a direct contrast to Tyler and Burnham’s established bond
before they sleep with each other.
DSC also clearly frames this attitude as positive and as a contrast to
Lorca. While Lorca continuously tries to bring Burnham to his side,
expecting her to join him until his death because he is completely
blinded by his own delusions, Tyler respects her choice to walk away
from him, even though he sees her as his tether to humanity (1x14,
‘The War Without, the War Within’) and eventually even chooses
to stay on Qo’noS to act as a go-between for the Federation and the
Klingons (1x15, ‘Will You Take My Hand’). In season two, when we
first meet him again in episode three, ‘Point of Light,’ he still serves
as an advisor to L’Rell, but his presence is severely contested by her
paternalistic political opponents, and thus ultimately ends up serving for
the top-secret Federation agency Section 31. By the end of the season,
he is even made head of the organization, as his ‘worldview is uniquely
suited to the dualities intrinsic to Section 31’ (2x14, ‘Such Sweet Sorrow,
Part Two’). His hybridity between human and Klingon ultimately makes
him an asset to Starfleet, but so does his moral compass, his ‘tether’
320 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Michael Burnham, who he continues to follow when he suspects Section

31 is acting out of their own volition and is potentially destroying the
Federation from within. Their genuine love and respect for each other
thus continues to shape his character beyond their initial relationship – a
type of relationship that Lorca neither values nor understands.

‘You get to live your life, the way you deserve to. Not
at war. But at peace’ (1x09, ‘Into the Forest I Go’)

When Tyler develops genuine romantic and sexual interest in Burnham it

also leads to him having to confront the experiences he made as a POW
on the Klingon prison ship. He also opens up about having repeatedly
been raped by his Klingon captor (1x09). This conversation is preceded
by several short flashbacks showing the rape, as well as Tyler confiding
in Lorca that the success of his survival was ensured by a Klingon taking
a ‘special interest’ in him (1x05). The viewer is thus aware of what was
done to Tyler before Burnham is. The fact that Tyler talks about his
trauma at all is significant, as DSC thus features a man who embodies
the classical image of a good soldier on screen, but upends stereotypes
by actually addressing his trauma. Additionally, while it is not unusual
for soldiers’ trauma to be depicted on screen, it is normally physical
trauma, further emphasizing the focus on the bodies of male soldiers
rather than their psyche.
Yet Tyler is also a survivor of rape.9 This makes him a male protagonist
that suffers from trauma that is not only usually not addressed in the
context of soldiers, but also only experienced by female characters –
another important deviation from conventional depictions on American
television. Tyler confides in Burnham about the rape and his feelings
about it, confessing to feeling guilt and shame because he ‘encouraged

9
We are aware that this narrative has been troubled by the fact that,
presumably, for Voq, the sex with L’Rell was consensual, yet for Tyler it
was experienced as assault, and this is the way he remembers it. Shazad
Latif has also commented on this: ‘It’s interesting because in reality Voq
was just having sex. And they’re in love, and that’s what’s technically
happening, but obviously in Tyler’s mind, because he is in my head, he
was a real guy and his memories are real and he’s still a real person, he’s
just coming through in someone else’s core being. In his mind, it’s sexual
assault. So, to play it both is very weird and interesting because you don’t
normally get to do that. But to explore adds another layer for an actor and
for the story line. Especially in times like now, with what’s going on, it’s
a very, very interesting thing to explore’ (Vulture, 2018).
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 321

it’ in order to survive, and explains that he has had nightmares about
it (1x09). Therefore, the effects of the sexual abuse on Tyler are verbally
stated by him during his conversation with Burnham, and they are also
shown twice visually, first by his viscerally violent reaction to L’Rell
upon escaping the Klingon ship with Lorca in 1x05 and secondly by his
freezing up upon seeing her again in 1x09. It is thus made explicit during
several episodes that Tyler is emotionally traumatized by the rape. It is
also made explicit that Burnham believes him – he receives emotional
support from her, as well as physical comfort and, additionally, Burnham
is also not repulsed by him or shown in any other way deterred from
continuing their relationship by this revelation. The kiss they share after
the conversation demonstrates that she is still romantically and sexually
interested in him. All of this further avoids tropes of how rape is usually
handled on television.
Having a male rape survivor is still a rarity on screen. Having one
that is shown to be emotionally traumatized by it is even rarer. While
there is little research about real-life male sexual assault survivors,
Heather Hlavka identifies dominant ideas of masculinity as stigmatizing
‘male victims of sexual assault … as having failed in their masculine
duty to protect themselves’ (2016, 485). By almost exclusively making
women the target of sexual violence in mainstream media, and not
even acknowledging rape when done to a man by a woman – this
stigma is further perpetuated, sometimes even to the point of ‘belief that
male sexual assault is not possible’ (Hlavka, 2016, 486). DSC, however,
counteracts this narrative, and even does so by depicting a capable
soldier as rape survivor. Tyler thus represents an alternative masculinity
to American television audiences, and one that also directly contrasts
the one displayed by Lorca. Tyler, as discussed, is shown as vulnerable
because of his trauma, and the show is willing to explore this vulner-
ability. Actor Shazad Latif has also commented on how he and his scene
partners, Sonequa Martin-Green and Mary Chieffo, worked on upending
the underlying gender dynamics of this: ‘The thing I love about Tyler
is that the women that he’s with in the scene are stronger than him,
usually, when we see him in pain, in the med bay, or just being cradled
by either L’Rell or Michael’ (Okay Player, 2018). Tyler is also seen crying
in several of these scenes, something that Latif also was adamant about
being depicted (The Verge, 2018).
Yet, Tyler also makes mistakes and exploits Burnham’s feelings
and their relationship to avoid any kind of treatment, assessment, or
removal from active duty, even when it is clear he needs help and is
not fit to perform his assigned tasks (1x10). His refusal to allow help
not only endangers himself, it endangers others, and Discovery makes
322 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

this clear – after all, it is Tyler/Voq that kills the medical officer Dr.
Culber (Wilson Cruz) when he tries to help Tyler and finds out what
is wrong with him in 1x10. Latif has also argued that this shows the
larger consequences of rape and the resulting trauma: ‘there’s a bigger
picture to sexual assault that doesn’t just include the victim – it affects
everyone around him, including friends, loved ones and that’s something
that needs to be addressed in our society’ (Trek Core, 2018). In 2x03,
when he still serves under L’Rell and she kisses him, he admits that
her touch still feels ‘like violation’ to him, further highlighting that the
trauma he endured remains part of his identity, even as he by then is
seemingly coping better and it is no longer interfering with his work.
His relationship with L’Rell is, however, further complicated by the
fact that it is revealed in the same episode that she and Voq had a child
born ex utero that she kept secret from anyone outside of her house,
Mo’Kai. As the baby becomes a target for her political opponents, Tyler
is tasked with hiding him in the monastery of Boreth, despite his intent
to be a father to his son. When the location and existence of his son
have to be disclosed later in the season (2x12), he does not fall back
into old habits and instead immediately shares crucial information with
Michael (and later on Pike), further showing both his growth and his
continued willingness to be emotionally vulnerable.
Just like Lorca, Tyler initially, literally, soldiers on through any pain to
get the mission done as their successful escape in 1x05 shows. However,
the show makes it very clear that emotional and mental trauma cannot
just be willed away. And although there is an entirely different issue
underlying this story as well with the Voq/Tyler switch, the message
about this kind of trauma is still clear: it needs treatment. And it further
sends the message that it is not only acceptable and necessary to seek
help, it is also okay to be vulnerable – regardless of gender.

‘The side I’ve chosen, is … where it is possible

to feel compassion and sympathy for your
enemy’ (1x15, ‘Will You Take My Hand’)

The initial homosocial military bond Lorca and Tyler share is narratively
broken up when Tyler’s hybrid identity as a Klingon sleeper agent and
Lorca’s villainous plan are revealed, but it is also done metaphorically
when Tilly makes the conscious effort to reintegrate Tyler into the
crew by sitting down at his table in the mess hall in 1x14. When they
are joined by Lieutenant Detmer (Emily Coutts) and Lieutenant Bryce
(Ronnie Rowe Jr.), he is officially reinstated into the Discovery’s crew,
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 323

a stark contrast to the individual, preferential status that Lorca gave

him and that was clearly meant to make him loyal to Lorca rather
than the crew as a whole. Starfleet’s values of unity and acceptance
thus effectively trump Lorca’s militaristic, hegemonic and, eventually,
toxic masculine ideals. By differentiating himself from Lorca and, most
importantly, by actively deciding to do so, Tyler is also eventually saved
and can function as an important conduit between the Federation and
the Klingons.
His respect for Burnham, another direct contrast to Lorca’s
possessive attitude, also leads to them parting on good terms – mutual
understanding thus lays the foundation of a peaceful Klingon–Human
relationship and possibly even reconciliation that is also shown in the
season two finale, when Klingon ships under L’Rell’s command come
to help the Discovery and the Enterprise in their battle against Control.
His alternative masculinity thus also has larger positive consequences
for the war effort, and potentially shapes the future of the Federation.
While the introduction of Christopher Pike has somewhat rebuilt the
archetype of the Starfleet captain that Lorca’s character had at least
chipped at, it is also Ash Tyler and the non-toxic masculinity he stands
for that are realigned with the ideals of Starfleet and the Federation,
while Lorca’s toxic behavior is actively attributed to that of the fascist
Terrans. This is not coincidental. Ted Sullivan, executive producer and
writer on the show, has said that he and the whole team working on
Discovery ‘felt we had a unique opportunity to talk about what is going
on in the world right now. That is what Star Trek is supposed to do’
(Trek Movie, 2018). By actively interrogating what it means to be a man
not only in the twenty-third, but more importantly, in the twenty-first
century, they have successfully done so.

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324 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

R.W. Connell, ‘Globalization, Imperialism, and Masculinities’, in Michael

Kimmel, Jeff Hearn, and R.W. Connell (eds.) Handbook of Studies on Men
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Film (Rutherford, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2007).
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and Brave New Worlds in Star Trek: Voyager’, Worlding SF Conference,
8  December, 2018, University of Graz, Austria. Conference Paper.
Liz Shannon Miller, Interview with Jason Isaacs, ‘“Star Trek: Discovery”:
Why Jason Isaacs First Said No to Becoming the New Captain,
and His Controversial Tribble Stance’, Indiewire, 2 October (2017),
https://www.indiewire.com/2017/10/star-trek-discovery-jason-isaacs-
interview-tribbles-1201882465/.
Jason Mittell, Complex TV: The Poetics of Contemporary Television Storytelling
(New York: New York University Press, 2015).
Roberta Pearson and Maire Messenger Davies, Star Trek and American
Television (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014).
Ken Plummer, ‘Male Sexualities’, in Michael Kimmel, Jeff Hearn, and
R.W. Connell (eds.) Handbook of Studies on Men and Masculinities (Thousand
Oaks: Sage Publishers, 2005): 178–94.
Philiana Ng, Interview with Jason Isaacs, ‘“Star Trek: Discovery’s” Jason Isaacs
on Captain Lorca’s Debut and His “Subtle” Shatner Tribute’, ET, 1 October
(2017), https://www.etonline.com/exclusive-star-trek-discoverys-jason-
isaacs-captain-lorcas-debut-and-his-subtle-shatner-tribute.
Stefan Rabitsch, Star Trek and the British Age of Sail: The Maritime Influence
Throughout Series and Films (Jefferson, NC: McFarland and Company, 2018).
Tristam Fane Saunders, Interview with Jason Isaacs, ‘Jason Isaacs on
Twitter Bullies, Being Trolled by William Shatner, and Anthony Rapp’s
Bravery: “What he did was heroic”’, The Telegraph, 13 November (2017),
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/on-demand/0/jason-isaacs-twitter-bullies-
trolled-william-shatner-anthony/.
 ‘WE CHOOSE OUR OWN PAIN’ 325

Danielle A. Scruggs, Interview with Shazad Latif, ‘Shazad Latif of “Star

Trek: Discovery” Explains How His Role Challenges Masculinity’, Okay
Player (2018), https://www.okayplayer.com/interviews/shazad-latif-star-
trek-discovery-interview.html.
Shawn Shimpach, Television in Transition: The Life and Afterlife of the Narrative
Action Hero (New York: Wiley Blackwell, 2010).
Trek Movie Staff, Interview with Ted Sullivan, ‘Jason Isaacs And “Star
Trek: Discovery” Producers Talk Prime Lorca, Emperor’s Future And
More’, Trek Movie, 29 January (2018), https://trekmovie.com/2018/01/29/
jason-isaacs-a nd-star-trek-d iscover y-producers-ta l k-pr i me-lorca-
emperors-future-and-more/.

Episodes Cited

‘The Menagerie: Part One and Two.’ Star Trek, written by Gene Roddenberry,
directed by Marc Daniels, Desilu Productions, 17/24 November, 1966.
‘The Cage.’ Star Trek, written by Gene Roddenberry, directed by Robert
Butler, Desilu Productions, 27 November, 1988.
‘Favor the Bold.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ira Steven Behr and
Hans Beimler, directed by Winrich Kolbe, Paramount Television, 6 June,
1998.
‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 1 October, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 8 October, 2017.
‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kemp Powers, directed
by Lee Rose, CBS Television Studios, 16 October, 2017.
‘Lethe.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Joe Menosky and Alex Kurtzman,
directed by Douglas Aarniokoski, CBS Television Studios, 22 October,
2017.
‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by
Jesse Alexander and Aaron Eli Coleite, directed by David Barrett, CBS
Television Studios, 30 October, 2017.
‘Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by John Scott, CBS Television Studios, 5 November, 2017.
‘Into the Forest I Go.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon Kim and
Erika Lippoldt, directed by Christopher J. Byrne, CBS Television Studios,
12 November, 2017.
‘Despite Yourself.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Sean Cochran, directed by
Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television Studios, 7 January, 2018.
‘The Wolf Inside.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa Randolph, directed by
T.J. Scott, CBS Television Studios, 14 January, 2018.
326 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘Vaulting Ambition.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordon Nardino, directed

by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios, 21 January, 2018.
‘What’s Past is Prologue.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Ted Sullivan,
directed by Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 28 January,
2018.
‘The War Without, the War Within.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa
Randolph, directed by David Solomon, CBS Television Studios, 4 February,
2018.
‘Will You Take My Hand?’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television Studios,
11 February, 2018.
‘Brother.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron Harberts,
and Ted Sullivan, directed by Alex Kurtzman, CBS Television Studios,
17 January, 2019.
‘Point of Light.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Andrew Colville, directed by
Olatunde Osunsami, CBS Television Studios, 31 January, 2019.
‘An Obol for Charon.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Alan B. McElory
and Andrew Colville, directed by Lee Rose, CBS Television Studios,
7  February, 2019.
‘The Sound of Thunder.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon Kim and
Erika Lippoldt, directed by Douglas Aarnioski, CBS Television Studios,
21 February, 2019.
‘Through the Valley of Shadows.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon
Kim and Erika Lippoldt, directed by Douglas Aarnioski, CBS Television
Studios, 4 April, 2019.
‘Such Sweet Sorrow: Part Two.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Michelle
Paradise, Jenny Lumet, and Alex Kurtzman, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 18 April, 2019.
Queering Star Trek
 ‘Never Hide Who You Are’
Queer Representation and Actorvism in
Star Trek: Discovery
Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala

A Utopian Future, But for Whom?

The lack of LGBTQ representation in the Star Trek franchise has long
cast a shadow over the utopian, inclusive future it claims to represent.
While creator Gene Roddenberry had said he would be willing to
add a gay character to The Next Generation (TNG) as early as 1986, by
his death in 1991 this change had not been implemented (Jenkins,
2004, 195). The later series Deep Space Nine (DS9; 1993–1999), Voyager
(VOY; 1995–2001), and Enterprise (ENT; 2001–2005) similarly failed to
include LGBTQ characters and only a handful of stand-alone episodes
over the years would even dare to address the subject, and those
that did produced rather mixed results, as we will discuss. As Katja
Kanzler had summed up in 2004, long before Discovery was on the
horizon: ‘Star Trek-the-media-text is rather characterized by its queer
absences; it is the text’s recreations by some of its fans that do queer
Star Trek’ (223).
Fanart and fanfiction featuring queer versions of established
characters do indeed have a long tradition in Star Trek fandom.
Famously, slash fanfiction ‘originated as a genre of fan writing within
Star Trek fandom in the early 1970s’ (Jenkins, 2004, 192) with stories
focusing on Kirk and Spock as a romantic pairing first appearing in
fanzines from the 1970s (Verba, 2003, 19) onwards. The term ‘slash’
points to the practice of using an oblique stroke to mark a homosexual
relationship (Jenkins, 2004, 192). This convention has since been
more widely adapted and is also used to indicate heterosexual pairings
appearing in fanfiction.
Hence, there is an established tradition of queer readings and fan
productions that tapped into what could be called the queer subtexts
of the Star Trek franchise. With Star Trek: Discovery (DSC; 2017–ongoing),
the newest addition to this franchise, this queer subtext is finally

331
332 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

being translated into the main text via the characters of Lieutenant
Commander Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) and Dr. Hugh Culber (Wilson
Cruz), who live together on the eponymous starship and whose status as
a couple is known to their crewmates. As we will argue in this paper,
throughout the first and second seasons of the show, the narrative
not only expands on the love story between Stamets and Culber and
establishes them as one of the show’s main couples. Through continuous
citations of and references to earlier Star Trek shows and especially The
Original Series (TOS), DSC also makes LGBTQ relationships that were only
potential subtexts before explicit.
Moreover, by casting Anthony Rapp and Wilson Cruz, two openly
gay actors, who have long been advocating for LGBTQ rights and
visibility, the show did not only commit to representation on screen,
but also off screen. Therefore, this chapter will also focus on the actors’
involvement in activism and the importance of representation for the
LGBTQ community.

A Long Time Coming: Queer Representation in Star Trek

The fundamental values of Star Trek, the idea of ‘infinite diversity in

infinite combinations,’ were in many ways betrayed from the beginning.
Although the make-up of the cast of TOS was groundbreaking for
American television in the tumultuous and Cold War-riddled 1960s,
with its African female officer Nyota Uhura (Nichelle Nichols), the
Japanese Hikaru Sulu (George Takei), or the Russian Pavel Chekov
(Walter Koenig), there was never any doubt about who constituted the
main cast of the show: the three white, straight men whose names were
the only ones featured in the series’ opening credits: William Shatner,
Leonard Nimoy, and DeForest Kelley. Pointing this out does not intend
to diminish the legacy of Gene Roddenberry and the many others who
brought this franchise to life, but simply to address the limits of the
show’s cultural context of production. There is a well-known story of
Martin Luther King Jr. approaching Nichelle Nichols and convincing
her to stay on the show when she intended to quit because of the
quality of the work she was getting to do. It speaks volumes, as in
the times of the Civil Rights movement, it was her mere visibility that
mattered. Likewise, it would have been more than surprising, basically
impossible, to have an openly queer character featured on the bridge
of the Enterprise, or even on a distant planet – back in 1966, network
television was the true final frontier to be conquered. As Henry Jenkins
has put it:
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 333

Nobody had expected the original Star Trek series, released in

a pre-Stonewall society, to address directly the concerns of gay,
lesbian, and bisexual fans. They had taken it on faith that its vision
of a United Federation of Planets, of intergalactic cooperation and
acceptance, included them as vital partners. (2004, 194)

But, times change, and the franchise was expected to change with it.
Thus, ‘when Star Trek: The Next Generation appeared, at a time when
queer characters had appeared on many American series, they hoped
for something more, to be there on the screen, an explicit presence in
its twenty-fourth century’ (Jenkins, 2004, 194). It was all the more
disappointing when it did not.
Indeed, much had changed in the American television landscape
between the end of TOS in 1969 and the premiere of TNG in 1987 but,
as the saying goes, the more it changed the more it stayed the same.
While the first positive representations of gay men found their way to
the screen as early as the 1970s (trailblazers include the 1971 All in The
Family episode ‘Judging Books by Covers’ (1x05) or M*A*S*H’s ‘George’
(2x22) from 1974), the majority of the few existing gay characters
at the time were either bad, effeminate stereotypes or portrayed as
outright sociopaths. Unsurprisingly, the 1980s were marked by the AIDS
crisis, whether that meant sympathetic representations that tried to do
political advocacy (such as Designing Women’s 1987 episode ‘Killing All
the Right People’ (2x04) that was nominated for two Emmy awards)
or much more negative portrayals, furthering the idea of gay men as
degenerate perpetrators of disease. Lesbians generally featured even less,
as did bisexual and transgender people (both groups would not see more
meaningful representation until well into the 2000s, if not 2010s, while
non-binary people are only scarcely portrayed even today).
Yet, while still fraught, queer representation was here to stay and,
understandably, Star Trek fans expected to be included in its utopian
future. Gene Roddenberry, then still at the helm of the budding
franchise, sent mixed messages to the queer fans advocating for inclusion.
As early as 1986, even before the premiere of TNG, he admitted at a
fan gathering that the issue needed to be addressed eventually (Jenkins,
2004, 195), and raised it at a staff meeting for the show in late 1987
(Drushel, 2013, 32). Out of this meeting came a pitch for a script dealing
with queer issues – the now infamous ‘Blood and Fire’ by veteran writer
David Gerrold (the author of TOS’s ‘The Trouble Wih Tribbles,’ 2x15), in
which he tackled AIDS through a metaphorical storyline. Gerrold had
intended it as a tribute to Michael ‘Mike’ Minor, an illustrator on Star
Trek: The Motion Picture (1979) and the art director of The Wrath of Khan
334 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

(1982), who was already too sick to join the TNG production team and
died from AIDS-related complications on May 4, 1987. However, the
script was never filmed: initially it underwent multiple revisions (Gerrold
had originally intended for there to be a gay couple in the episode, the
first thing to go), and finally, was vetoed altogether by producer Rick
Berman, resulting in Gerrold angrily leaving the show and making
his story public (Jenkins, 2004, 198; Drushel, 2015, 32). Berman was
afraid of an audience backlash against the episode (Jenkins, 2004, 198),
which was a valid concern at the time. After all, when drama series
Thirtysomething (1987–1991) showed two men waking up next to each
other in bed in the 1989 episode ‘Strangers’ (3x06) a public outcry
led to regular sponsors pulling out, costing ABC about $1.5 million in
advertising revenue, which also prompted them to remove the episode
from reruns. Nonetheless, such concerns were never discussed publicly
by Star Trek’s producers – possibly because they would have in turn
had to deal with fans’ anger at them placing more importance on the
capitalist concerns of the television network over promoting what they
perceived as Star Trek’s core values. Ironically, the producers also framed
their continued exclusion of queer lives as part of their ideology, aided
by Roddenberry himself stating in an interview with gay magazine The
Advocate: ‘I’ve never found it necessary to do a special homosexual-
theme story because people in the time line of The Next Generation,
the 24th century, will not be labeled’ (quoted in Jenkins, 2004, 197).
Roddenberry passed away in 1991, the same year of the interview, and
the remaining producers, showrunners Michael Piller and Jeri Taylor,
and most notably, executive producer Rick Berman, continued to hide
behind this ‘circular logic’ (Jenkins, 2004, 197).
Nevertheless, TNG aired an episode with at least a queer subtext not
much later: ‘The Host’ (4x23), at the end of season four, which introduced
the species of the Trill that consist of a symbiont and a host. In it, Dr.
Beverly Crusher (Gates McFadden) falls in love with the Trill Odan who
has a male host (Franc Luz). However, when his host sustains injuries,
the symbiont is temporarily transferred to Will Riker’s (Jonathan Frakes)
body – a choice that ultimately does not deter Beverly from pursuing the
romance, even though Will is her colleague and friend (something Robin
Roberts has also pointed out, 1999, 116). Yet when, by the end of the
episode, Odan joins with a female host, Kareel (Nicole Orth-Pallavicini),
Beverly decides to break off the relationship and admits that it may
be a ‘human failing,’ but that she cannot ‘keep up’ with ‘these kinds
of changes.’ She suggests that ‘perhaps, someday, our ability to love
won’t be so limited,’ and Odan/Kareel kisses the inside of her wrist
(as they used to), leaving Beverly with a questioning look on her face
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 335

as the credits roll. While this ending remains somewhat ambivalent,

it is a curious choice to blame Beverly’s inability to be attracted to
another woman’s body on the human condition instead of her presumed
heterosexuality – heteronormativity seems to be a firm constant in the
twenty-fourth century, a far cry from Roddenberry’s claims of a simple
lack of labels. Or as Katja Kanzler (2004) has put it, within what we
see of Starfleet, ‘[t]he mere lack of alternatives most forcefully installs
heteronormativity’ (205). Dr. Crusher’s disavowal of Odan’s new host
body can further be read as transphobic,1 something that would also
become even more important when the Trill Jadzia Dax was introduced
as a central character on DS9. Despite all of this, as McFadden reports,
‘some people were outraged at any hint of homosexuality in this episode’
(quoted in Memory Alpha).
Cries for queer representation grew even louder as the show
progressed, leading to a ‘conscious response’ (Jenkins and Tulloch,
1995, 252) in the form of the episode ‘The Outcast’ (5x17), that first
aired on March 16, 1992, towards the end of show’s fifth season. The
episode has received much attention from scholars and fans over the
years, most of it negative – its main flaw is a conflated understanding
of sex and gender, as well as sexual attraction. In the episode, Will
Riker falls for Soren (Melinda Culea), a member of the J’naii, a species
that once had two sexes but evolved into having just one – yet Soren
reveals that she identifies as a woman, a fact that makes her the titular
outcast in her own society, where this is viewed as a criminal perversion
to be medically treated. Nonetheless, the script wanted to address
homosexuality, as well as conversion therapy, more than engage with
trans issues, a fact confirmed by writer Jeri Taylor who called it a ‘gay
rights story’ (quoted in Jenkins and Tulloch, 1995, 255). Indeed, Soren’s
delivery of what reads like a pride speech at her tribunal thus remains
powerful in its own right. Roberts (1999) has pointed out that the scene
casts her in favorable and sympathetic light (119) – yet there is a danger
that it might only resonate with queer people and could have gone
over straight audiences’ heads, as Jenkins and Tulloch’s (1995) research
suggests (257). The conflation of sex and gender, and the apparent
favoritism towards a binary conception of gender in the end, also more
than muddles the message. While Will’s sincere feelings for Soren and
his fight for her are another high point of the episode (much owed to
Jonathan Frakes’ heartfelt delivery), its advocacy for gay rights would

1
For more on this issue, see Si Sophie Pages Whybrew’s chapter titled ‘”I
Never Met a Female Michael Before”: Star Trek: Discovery between Trans
Potentiality and Cis Anxiety’ in this book.
336 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

have hit home harder and likely made the episode’s message more clear,
had Soren been portrayed by a male actor – something that apparently
was vetoed by Rick Berman who argued that ‘having Riker engaged in
passionate kisses with a male actor might have been a little unpalatable
to viewers’ (quoted in Tremeer, 2019). Frakes however, who after all
would have been the one doing the kissing, apparently found it much
more ‘palatable’ – he continued to advocate for this casting (Jenkins
and Tulloch, 1995, 285), and has publicly criticized the decision ever
since, even recently calling the casting choice ‘bizarre’ (Tremeer, 2019).
The other big issue with this episode ultimately is that Soren’s forced
conversion therapy is seemingly successful, although this in the end
quick solution to the plot is likely owed to the episodic nature of TNG’s
storytelling – had Soren remained free to express her love and attraction
to Riker, she would have had to remain on the Enterprise. It also seems
to play into the trope of the tragic queer character, something much
more prevalent in the television landscape of the 1990s, when queer
characters were scarcely ever allowed any happy endings. Although ‘The
Outcast’ remains decidedly mixed in its messages and impact, the fact
that anything outside the boundaries of heteronormativity again falls
to alien species is possibly the biggest disappointment. This is another
issue that could have been addressed had Riker fallen for a female-
identified character played by a male actor, since then Riker also might
have been seen as queer – but, even in this case, it would have enforced
cisnormativity. Ultimately, both ‘The Host’ and ‘The Outcast’ ‘treat
queer lifestyles as alien rather than familiar aspects of the Federation
culture’ (Jenkins, 2004, 190) and signify that queerness is not part of
humanity in the twenty-fourth century – suggesting the conclusion that
queer people either remained ‘closeted or that they had ceased to exist’
(Jenkins, 2004, 196).
The franchise continued to go strong all through the 1990s, with
DS9 running from 1993 to 1999 and VOY from 1995 to 2001, but queer
representation was almost nowhere to be found on either show – there
had been rumors of a minor character on the feature film Star Trek:
First Contact (1996), Lieutenant Hawk (Neal McDonough), being gay, but
they were quickly refuted by, again, Rick Berman (Drushel, 2013, 37).
Tellingly, Hawk only was presented as explicitly gay when he made an
appearance in the novel Section 31: Rogue, a much more niche product
than the cinematic release. Meanwhile, the depiction of queer characters
made great strides elsewhere on American television – while cable
TV channels such as HBO were trailblazers, network television also
followed suit, with Ellen DeGeneres’ coming out both on and off screen
in 1997 seen by many as a watershed moment. More and more shows
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 337

of all genres added gay or lesbian supporting or even main characters

during this time, and so Star Trek seemed continuously out of step with
the zeitgeist. While DS9 seemed most steeped in queer subtext (less
graciously read as ‘queerbaiting’), none of it was ever made explicit:
neither the homoerotic undertones of Garak (Andrew Robinson) and
Dr. Bashir’s (Alexander Siddig) relationship, or the coming out of Major
Kira Nerys (Nana Visitor) many fans would have liked to see. Garak’s
character is particularly of interest here, as actor Andrew Robinson has
since confirmed that he intentionally played his interest in Bashir as
queer and has always viewed his character as pansexual or, as he calls
it, ‘inclusive’ (quoted in Sourbut, n.dat.), something he also insinuated
in A Stitch in Time (2000), a DS9 novel he wrote. Kira meanwhile is
revealed to be bi- or pansexual only in the Mirrorverse, playing into the
previous oversexualization of female characters in this other dimension
– something DSC also took up, and which will be addressed below.
The only more explicitly queer representation on screen was explored
through the aforementioned Trill Jadzia Dax, whose whole species could
have served for a more nuanced portrayal of trans issues but always
failed to do so – in many ways, the biggest missed opportunity in all
of DS9. The fact that she shared a same-sex kiss on screen in ‘Rejoined’
(4x06) was lauded by many, and still caused quite the controversy at
the time, with a Southern affiliate even censoring the kiss (‘Rejoined
(episode),’ Memory Alpha) and conservative viewers fielding angry calls
to Paramount (Tremeer). Yet in many ways, it was not more than a
sweep’s week ploy, seemingly playing into the ‘voyeuristic gratification
with which scenes of lesbian love apparently provide heterosexual men’
(Kanzler, 2004, 215). After all, it took another 22 years (!) for Star
Trek to feature another same-sex kiss. And despite writer and producer
Moore being ‘proud of the fact that nowhere in the episode does anyone
even blink at the fact that these are two women’ (‘Rejoined (episode),’
Memory Alpha), Ira Steven Behr’s comment that ‘we’re not doing a show
about lesbians, we’re doing a show about Trills’ (‘Rejoined (episode),’
Memory Alpha) speaks volumes. Jadzia’s romantic interest, Dr. Lenara
Khan (Susanna Thompson), is another Trill, so their love for each other
is in many ways framed by heteronormativity, since the symbionts had
originally been in a heterosexual relationship. Also, Jadzia later goes
on to marry Worf and, aside from this brief encounter, is thus mostly
coded as a straight, cis woman – and any hints at queerness are ascribed
to her alienness, and yet again not part of the Federation’s humanity.
Noticeably, any explicit queerness is completely absent from VOY,
despite behind-the-scenes advocacy to finally introduce a gay character
to the franchise. Indeed, Kate Mulgrew who portrayed Captain Kathryn
338 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Janeway, has been outspoken about wanting to see representation on

her crew over the years and expressed regret for not being able to effect
change. She approached Rick Berman about the issue multiple times,
only to be rebutted with the claim it would be dealt with ‘in due time’
(quoted in Scahill, 2002). Yet, for Berman, who remained at the helm
even for ENT (2001–2005), the time apparently had still not come in the
early 2000s, when other television shows had begun to feature a variety
of queer characters and to tackle issues way beyond homophobia. There
are only two episodes on ENT that qualify as even having any queer
subtext, and the whole show is far from any meaningful representation
– in many ways, after DS9 and VOY, it seemed to be a step back on a
number of issues.
The 2003 episode ‘Stigma’ (2x14) finally made good on the chance
passed up with ‘Blood and Fire’ over 15 years earlier, by addressing
AIDS – it was explicitly commissioned as part of UPN’s efforts to raise
awareness for the KNOW HIV/AIDS campaign co-ordinated by its parent
company Viacom (KHN, 2003). This is perhaps also why it comes off as
a bit heavy-handed. Written by Brannon Braga and Rick Berman, the
episode uses the stand-in Pa’nar Syndrome, a disease only contracted
by Vulcans able to perform mind-melds. This minority is shunned on
Vulcan and forced to live in secret and, as it transpires, the Vulcan
doctors that the Enterprise’s Dr. Phlox (John Billingsley) consults with
have no interest in curing the disease since it only affects the margin-
alized, drawing a parallel to the Reagan administration’s handling of the
AIDS crisis. However, despite not being part of the ‘minority’ herself,
T’Pol (Jolene Blalock) contracts the disease when another Vulcan forces
himself on her. Although the script takes great pains to make this fact
clear, and ultimately handles the rape narrative well (and ties in with
a previous episode, ‘Fusion,’ 1x17), the circumstances of her infection
further remove all of this ‘stigma’ from any Starfleet character, even
the non-human. Furthermore, Captain Archer (Scott Bakula) who
advocates for her and criticizes the Vulcans for their bigotry declares
that humanity has long overcome such ostracization, and thus falls
back on the implicit superiority of humanity (or, more explicitly, those
in Starfleet) that seems inherent to Star Trek. The fact that queerness
remains something that only alien races inhabit is again repeated here,
even in the episode’s subplot, that explores the polyamorous nature of
Dr. Phlox’s species, the Denobulans, and Trip Tucker’s (Connor Trineer)
discomfort with it. David Gerrold, the writer of ‘Blood and Fire,’ when
asked about Star Trek’s eventual treatment of AIDS, rightly pointed out
that it ‘could have made a greater impact in 1987 when the stigmati-
zation was greater, no treatments were available, and blood shortages
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 339

exacerbated by AIDS hysteria were critical’ (Drushel, 2015, 34). Despite

its efforts then, ‘Stigma’ ultimately feels strangely out of place in the
television landscape of 2003.
Only a few episodes later, ‘Cogenitor,’ (2x22) at first glance is ENT’s
answer to ‘The Outcast,’ introducing a three-gender species – yet
the episode seems to deal more with class and race issues, since the
mistreated members of the third gender serve as slaves for the rest of
the species, as Greven has pointed out (2009, 43). Even in the new
millennium then, Star Trek still had not answered its queer fans’ rightful
calls for representation in a future touting utopian equality and diversity.
When in 2016’s Star Trek: Beyond, the Kelvin timeline’s Hikaru Sulu
(John Cho) reunited with his husband and daughter in a blink-or-miss
it moment, fans rejoiced, but even the original Sulu, George Takei, an
out gay man, did not approve, as he believed it to be a retcon of Gene
Roddenberry’s work (Abramovitch, 2016). The scene was also edited, and
thus the first same-sex kiss of the franchise was left on the cutting-room
floor (Cross and Joannou, 2018). It ultimately would take until 2017,
and most importantly, a new team of producers, to finally make good
on its never fulfilled premise of ‘infinite diversity’ on the small screen.

Queering the Canon: Slash Fanfiction and Fan Activism

As mentioned in the introduction to this essay, TOS, and more specif-

ically the fanfiction written about TOS, has long been credited as
being influential in the invention of so-called ‘slash’ fanfiction, or
fan-written stories that focus on queer relationships between canonical
characters, and often narrowly on explicitly sexual interactions within
such relationships. Early scholarship on fandom and fanfiction has
focused on the ways in which these stories rewrite and add to the canon
established by a television show or other cultural products. Thus, Henry
Jenkins (1992, 2005) has argued that ‘slash turns that subtext into
the dominant focus of new texts’ (1992, 210). More recent scholarship
on slash fiction, for example by Robin Reid, has further criticized the
‘unquestioned assumptions about the connection between gender roles
and bodies, and thus between bodies and reading/writing preferences’
(2009, 480). Judith May Fatallah (2017) also traces the development
of fan studies including the changing views on the significance and
influence of slash fanfiction and adds additional questions about ‘the
resistant or subversive nature of slash: firstly, do slash writers subversively
create a queer subtext in the source, by way of a resistant reading, or
are they making latent [sic] what is already there’ (31)?
340 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

In addition to slash fanfiction and its introduction of LGBTQ

relationships and issues into the Star Trek universe, fan activism has long
been important in criticizing and holding the franchise’s powers that be
accountable. Bruce E. Drushel traces the efforts made by fan activists,
for example, the Gaylactic Network, members of which ‘confronted
Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry and writer David Gerrold at a fan
convention either in 1986 and 1987’ (2013, 31) and participated in a
sustained letter-writing campaign arguing for LGBTQ representation
(33). Jenkins also addresses The Gaylactic Network, noting that ‘fans
already exercise a form of grassroots cultural politics which powerfully
reflects their interests in the media and their own ideological stakes’
(1995, 239).
After the appearance of Sulu’s husband in Star Trek: Beyond mentioned
above, queer fans ‘created a multi-city, cross country futuristic equality
celebration tour called... GAAAYS IN SPAAACE’ (GAAAYS IN SPAAACE;
original emphasis). To date, GAAAYS IN SPACE has organized events
across several major American cities, during Star Trek: Las Vegas, one of
the largest Star Trek conventions in the United States, and during Star
Trek: The Cruise III in January 2019, making the large number of queer
Star Trek fans clearly visible. What is more, the group’s website notes
that ‘[e]ach and every GAAAYS IN SPAAACE event is a celebration of
historic importance for LGBTQ Trekkies and all of our straight allies
who have forever maintained that this day would eventually arrive’
(GAAAYS IN SPAAACE; original emphasis), emphasizing not only how
long it took for the Star Trek franchise to show even the smallest bit of
LGBTQ representation, but also the community’s continuing hope for it.
With the arrival of DSC and the characters of Lieutenant Commander
Stamets and Dr. Culber, some of that need has been met. At the same
time, the representation of an out, canon gay couple in a Star Trek show
has implications not only for the franchise itself but also for the fan
productions focusing on DSC or these characters in particular. While
this essay will provide a first analysis of the importance of Culber and
Stamets and read the way they have been represented as a retroactive
addition of LGBTQ identities into the canon, the latter considerations
about fanworks lie outside of its focus.2

2
For an exploration of how the canon representation of LGBTQ relationships
affects fanfiction and especially the long-held belief that fanfiction is
necessarily subversive, see Kerstin-Anja Münderlein’s essay ‘“To Boldly
Discuss”: Socio-Political Discourses in Star Trek: Discovery Fanfiction’
published in this volume.
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 341

‘Hugh and I fell in love after I told him to get lost:’

Queer Representation on Star Trek: Discovery (1x07,
‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad’)

After the franchise’s failure to include sustained and meaningful

LGBTQ representation in the successive Star Trek shows or movies, DSC
is the first series to feature a gay couple as part of its main cast, with
characters that are, to differing extents, involved in and important to
the larger narrative arcs in the first two seasons. Additionally, Stamets
and Culber are introduced first in their professional capacities aboard
the ship in episode 1x03 (‘Context is for Kings’) and only revealed to
be a couple in an instantly iconic toothbrushing scene in 1x05 (‘Choose
Your Pain’). Commenting on this introduction to the characters and
their relationship, Anthony Rapp explains:

[W]hat I’m really proud of is, like everything with Star Trek’s
diversity, there are no arrows pointing to it, no big neon sign
flashing, no story line about what it’s like to be a gay character
on the ship. It just is. That, to me, is part of the evolution as well.
(Russell, 2017; original emphasis)

This is important as it represents a normalization of LGBTQ characters

and relationships. Stamets and Culber are part of the social world on
board the U.S.S. Discovery and neither this scene nor the later plots
involving their relationship focus on them as a ‘special issue,’ like
the episodes discussed above. And, by featuring two human Starfleet
officers as the first openly gay couple, DSC avoids projecting LGBTQ
identities and sexualities onto alien species while implicitly reaffirming
heterosexuality as the human norm. By making the characters central
to the ship’s return from the Mirror Universe in the first season, and
by continuing to explore their relationship in season two after Culber’s
resurrection, the showrunners and writers made sure to present them
as integral members of the crew whose love for each other is vital to
the story, without reducing them to their sexual orientation.
While Culber’s death in 1x10 was criticized by some as another
instance of the ‘Bury Your Gays’ trope, which has been defined as ‘the
presentation of deaths of LGBT characters where these characters are
nominally able to be viewed as more expendable than their heteronor-
mative counterparts’ (‘Bury Your Gays’; original emphasis), the fact that
Culber and Stamets’ ‘gay love … not only saved the world but saved
the universe,’ to quote Wilson Cruz (Brown, 2018), and has continued
beyond that, seems to subvert the trope to some extent. In the second
342 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

season, the show also highlights Stamets’ grief over the death of his
partner and the trauma and PTSD Culber experiences after being trapped
in the mycelial network for months. In several interviews, Cruz has
noted that his inspirations for portraying this trauma lie in the HIV/
AIDS crisis and specifically the moment when drugs that substantially
prolonged life were introduced in the late 1990s: ‘I thought a lot about
what that must have felt like. … if you’re given a second chance at life,
what do you do with that? Do you continue to live the life that you
had been living or do you make new choices?’ (The Ready Room, 2019).
This is born out in the second half of season two, when Stamets and
Culber briefly separate due to Culber’s struggles with his trauma – a new
development for Star Trek, where, due to the episodic nature of earlier
shows, trauma was often not explored in more detail.
Cruz is not the only one who makes these connections to real-world
history. The final scenes of ‘Saints of Imperfection’ show Stamets waiting
in sickbay as Culber is being examined, despite the fact that they are not
married, as Cruz asserted in an interview shortly before the episode aired
(BUILDSeries, 2019). Stamets’ presence can be seen as a further connection
back to the AIDS epidemic and the fight for marriage equality it sparked.
This is an aspect of the way the couple is represented in the show that
was also picked up on by fans who have lived through the epidemic. On
Twitter, user @luminousfinn points to the AIDS crisis in a thread after
episode 2x14 (‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Pt. 2’) aired and notes that the episode
shows ‘[t]hat we, in the 23rd century, have got to a point where we no
longer have to fight this fight. Where our relationships are recognized as a
matter of fact’ (2019). Here, then, DSC evokes important stepping stones in
the fight for LGBTQ equality, all while showing a possible, positive future
that these fights might culminate in.
In addition to Culber and Stamets, DSC has also featured LGBTQ
people among its recurring characters and in background shots, the latter
most notably during the party scenes of ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man
Go Mad’ (1x07) where one can see a lesbian couple dancing and laughing
together. In addition, the Terran Emperor Philippa Georgiou (Michelle
Yeoh), who is brought into the so-called Prime Universe by Michael
Burnham towards the end of season one, is revealed to be pansexual
in ‘Will You Take My Hand?’ (1x15) when she first takes two Orion sex
workers to bed and then extracts information from them. While this,
and her claims about other Mirror Universe characters’ pansexuality in
‘The Red Angel’ (2x10), can be seen as further representation, it also
plays into longstanding stereotypes about bi- and pansexual characters in
general, as well as an existing correlation between LGBTQ identities and
moral ambiguity within the Star Trek franchise. As Teresa Cutler-Broyles,
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 343

focusing on the fact that it is usually female Mirror Universe characters

who are coded as bisexual, puts it: ‘in a moral universe, female power is
problematic, and distinctly separate from sexuality. And when it occurs,
the logic of storyline and culture tells us that it will be eradicated/
reabsorbed back into the traditional trappings of power’ (2017, 47).
Kanzler has similarly noted that the portrayal of Mirror Kira Nerys
is ‘a queer imagery [that] stands for an alterity coded in a distinctly
threatening way’ (Kanzler, 2004, 207). While this is not necessarily true
for DSC as a whole, it does seem to apply to Georgiou in this instance,
especially when one keeps in mind the ‘depraved bisexual’ trope that
Tremeer (2019) has also pointed out.3 The fact that LGBTQ people are
shown to exist in both universes somewhat breaks with the negative
implications in earlier shows but, as it does so, it ‘sets a bi woman against
two gay men’ (Tremeer, 2019) – this perception is heightened because we
have so far not gotten confirmation that Georgiou’s prime counterpart,
who is killed in the show’s pilot, also identified as pansexual.
Season two of DSC also introduces Commander Jett Reno, played
by lesbian stand-up comedian Tig Notaro. As with Culber and Stamets,
audiences first meet Reno fulfilling her duty as a Starfleet officer on the
damaged U.S.S. Hiawatha in ‘Brother’ (2x01), before her relationship and
her wife are introduced later in the season. This continues the show’s
representation of LGBTQ characters as full and accepted members of
Federation society. Reno’s relationship with her wife, a Soyousian, comes
up in ‘Through the Valley of Shadows’ (2x12) when she mentions her
during an exchange with Culber. This conversation between two openly
queer characters about their respective relationships marks another first
for the Star Trek franchise.
At the same time, this scene, and the inclusion of LGBTQ characters
in DSC as a whole, have shown how spurious many of the previous
showrunners’ claims about the impossibility of representation were.
Jenkins provides a whole list of reasons Roddenberry and studio
representatives gave for not representing LGBTQ people in reaction to the
Gaylaxians’ letter-writing campaign. Among others, they insisted that
‘[t]he representation of homosexuality on Star Trek would necessarily
become the site of some form of dramatic conflict’ (Jenkins, 2004,
197) or that explicit sexual content would be needed to depict LGBTQ
characters. As DSC has shown, none of these claims actually hold any

3
Further resources examining the almost exclusively negative representation
of bisexual characters (and overwhelmingly bisexual women) are Spencer
Kornhaber’s article ‘The Trope of the Evil Television Bisexual’ (2015) and Maria
San Filippo’s The B Word: Bisexuality in Contemporary Film and Television (2013).
344 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

water if, rather than making LGBTQ representation into a ‘special’ issue,
showrunners, writers, and actors are dedicated to representing LGBTQ
people in the same way heterosexual people have been represented in
the franchise and wider media – as part of the normal fabric of life.
The enthusiastic reaction of LGBTQ fans to the introduction of Stamets
and Culber bears out how important representation is and how long it took
for Star Trek to reach this point. What is more, it is precisely in a science
fiction show dedicated to showing a positive future that this representation
might have the biggest impact. As Judith Butler has pointed out,

[t]he critical promise of fantasy, when and where it exists, is to

challenge the contingent limits of what will and will not be called
reality. Fantasy is what allows us to imagine ourselves and others
otherwise; it establishes the possible in excess of the real; it points
elsewhere, and when it is embodied, it brings the elsewhere home.
(2004, 29)

DSC, then, has ‘[brought] the elsewhere home’ into the Star Trek canon
and brought the franchise into alignment with recent societal progress.

Bringing Queer Subtext into the Limelight: Lieutenant

Stamets, Dr. Culber, and Star Trek Canon

The introduction of both Lieutenant (later Lieutenant Commander)

Stamets and Dr. Culber in season one is not only important because of
how it is handled, but also because it evokes characters and dynamics
familiar to Star Trek audiences since TOS. When we first see Culber and
Stamets in sickbay, Dr. Culber has to fix Stamets’ broken nose after a
failed spore drive jump. When Culber mentions that Stamets almost
injured his frontal cortex, the latter replies: ‘The frontal lobe is overrated.
It only contains memory and emotional expression. It’s completely
unnecessary.’ Culber counters: ‘Well, I’ll save it. You know, just in case
you might wanna have a feeling one day’ (1x04, ‘The Butcher’s Knife
Cares Not For the Lambs Cry’). This interaction, among others, and the
sarcastic tones in which it is delivered by the actors, can be read as clear
allusion to interactions between Dr. McCoy and Commander Spock in
TOS, who are generally depicted as sharing a deep friendship, but also
clash in this manner over their differences.
These allusions to TOS are further strengthened by the fact that Captain
Lorca (Jason Isaacs) interrupts them during the sickbay scene in 1x04,
addressing them as ‘Gentlemen,’ an address Kirk often uses to interrupt
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 345

McCoy’s and Spock’s arguments. The fact that these dynamics are so
clearly alluded to in the interactions between Stamets and Culber can be
interpreted as the show taking a possible queer subtext of TOS that has
been explored in the fanon – the TOS characters most often shipped in
fanworks are Spock and Kirk, but there are also a number fan works that
ship Spock and McCoy or all three of the original show’s main characters
– and making it canon, further affirming that there is a space for LGBTQ
people in Star Trek’s utopian future. One could argue with Fatallah here
and say that ‘fandom’s discursive transformations [are] making industrial
impact, and impacting the broader cultural sphere’ (2017, 193). Through
these allusions to TOS, the show seems to gesture backwards in time to the
franchise’s history, validating not only fans’ queer rereadings of the show,
but also highlighting, in a way, the prior absence of LGBTQ representation.
This last point is further driven home in the scene in 2x08 mentioned
above when the Terran emperor insinuates that the Mirror counterparts
of Stamets and Culber are pansexual, leading to Stamets asserting: ‘Well,
in this universe, and in every other universe I can possibly imagine, I’m
gay. And so is he’ (2x08). This assertion of the characters’ homosexuality
does not only seem to be a way for DSC to rectify, to some degree, the
missed opportunities of representation in the franchise as a whole, but
also a direct rebuke to some fans’ (and internet trolls’) criticism of the
introduction of a gay couple.
While DSC’s portrayal of LGBTQ couples such as Stamets and Culber
is groundbreaking in many ways, it remains rather homonormative. It
risks affirming marriage and monogamy as the frame that is applied to
measure the validity or truth of romantic relationships, while those that
act outside these norms, like Georgiou, still suffer from rather trope-heavy
characterization. However, there is some potential to read this relationship
as a subtle interrogation of the heteronormative assumptions that underlie
earlier entries into the Star Trek canon and, of course, science fiction
narratives and popular culture in general. In ‘Saints of Imperfection’
(2x05), Stamets is identified as ‘widower’ in Michael Burnham’s (Sonequa
Martin-Green) opening monologue. The use of this term seems even more
deliberate in light of the fact that the characters are not married. Using
‘widower’ to describe Stamets once again emphasizes the depth of the
love shared between him and Culber, as well as the extent of his grief
after Culber’s death. While this further normalizes and legitimizes their
relationship, putting them on the same level as the countless heterosexual
couples featured in the Star Trek franchise before them, it can potentially
push viewers to take another look at ingrained assumptions surrounding
romantic relationships and the cultural constraints and classifications that
enclose them. As Butler has argued, ‘it is crucial to expand our notions
346 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

of kinship beyond the heterosexual frame’ (2004, 26) because ‘those who
live outside the conjugal frame or maintain modes of social organization
for sexuality that are neither monogamous nor quasi-marital are more
and more considered unreal, and their loves and losses less than “true”
loves and “true” losses’ (2004, 26–27). Naming the unmarried Stamets
a ‘widower’ makes his loss true and gestures at precisely this unreality
that is often attached to unmarried couples especially unmarried LGBTQ
couples. Thus, while DSC becomes ‘part of the articulation of the possible’
(Butler, 2004, 29) in some respects, there are also aspects of LGBTQ
representation that could be improved on.

Representation On and Off Screen: Actorvism and Advocacy

DSC is a prime example for how much representation behind the camera
matters to what we see on screen. While the franchise has two out gay
actors with George Takei and Zachary Quinto, Takei came out decades
after his role and has even disapproved of Sulu being reframed as queer
in the Kelvin timeline (see above), and Quinto is relatively private about
his life and his Spock is in a heterosexual relationship with Zoe Saldana’s
Uhura. With the casting of Wilson Cruz and Anthony Rapp, however, the
showrunners made sure that the franchise’s first queer main characters
would be depicted by someone aware of the responsibility that came with
this. Cruz came out the age of 19 and made history as being the first out
gay man playing an out gay character on American network television in
the short-lived teen drama My So-Called Life (1994–1995), while Rapp has
been out since 1997. In 1995, they starred together briefly in the popular
Broadway musical RENT, that also deals with queer lives, establishing
themselves as household names in queer circles. Cruz has also worked
for GLAAD, an organization monitoring LGBT content in the media, and
describes himself as an ‘actorvist’ – a moniker that Rapp has also since
taken on. Talking about their casting in DSC in gay magazine Attitude,
Rapp clarified that they were aware of the significance, calling the first
male–male kiss on the show ‘historic,’ but that since they ‘have been in
the public eye as out activists and actors for so long, it didn’t feel like
pressure but more like an opportunity’ (quoted in Cross and Joannou,
2018, 48). He also mentions that they had discussions with the producers
early on whether intimacy was going to be shown, but they were adamant
on making it happen; in fact, season one showrunner Aaron Harberts,
himself an out gay man, had been the one advocating for their casting
in the first place (Cross and Joannou, 2018, 52) and Bryan Fuller, who
had originally been attached to the show, had announced the inclusion
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 347

of a gay character in 2016 (Trendacosta). Harberts, Rapp, and Cruz were,

however, also diligent at delivering a non-sexualized representation of
their gay characters and otherwise avoiding tropes.
While Stamets and Culber remain indeed non-sexualized and their
love story is touching, both the showrunners and the actors came under
fire for what many fans perceived as ‘Bury Your Gays,’ as discussed above.
In an unusual move given the secrecy CBS had shown surrounding
any other plot in today’s spoiler culture, the producers and actors were
granted permission to speak openly in the media about the fact that Cruz
would return to the show and that Culber would be resurrected. This
was done immediately following the episode in the companion show After
Trek, as well as by Cruz and Rapp via their social media channels, yet
the outrage remained understandably huge. Season two has made good
on the promise of resurrecting the doctor and has even promoted Cruz
to a series regular, yet the show has since been criticized for bestowing
further hardship on the characters. Nonetheless, Cruz and Rapp both
remain vocal spokespeople, reassuring and engaging with fans on a daily
basis, particularly on Twitter, taking seriously their roles as actorvists.

Conclusion: ‘Gay love saved the universe’

After a long and fraught history with queer representation, the Star
Trek franchise has finally acknowledged that LGBTQ people are part
of its humanist, egalitarian future – a fact that fans had long imagined
for themselves, through queer readings, writing slash fic, and other
transformative works. DSC, however, is the first instalment that truly
represents queer lives, on screen as much as behind it – which has made
all the difference. And yet the treatment of its main queer characters
has not always satisfied fans, who have viewed some of it as still falling
into the traps of old tropes, despite the actors’ continued activism and
avid engagement with them. Further, while gay male representation is
now finally part of the Star Trek story world, and lesbian lives have found
some recognition on the sidelines, with explicit connections to Star Trek
canon and decades of fanon and queer readings even suggesting that
DSC may be consciously rewriting canon or at least acknowledging the
possibility that characters in former shows may have been members of
the LGBTQ community, the representation for everyone existing outside
of clear sexual or gender binaries is still lacking. The pansexual Mirror
Georgiou repeats many harmful stereotypes of bi and pan people, whereas
genderqueer and trans characters still do not seem to be a part of the
Federation’s humanity in the twenty-third century and beyond. While
348 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Aaron Harberts had voiced plans for a trans character (Cross and Joannou,
2018, 52), he is no longer one of DSC’s showrunners and, at the time of
writing, nothing further on queer representation has been announced for
the greenlit season three of the show. While DSC then has made many
strides for queer representation, it has still not quite caught up with the
realities of American life, nor other current television, where more and
more bisexual, transgender and also, if cautiously, genderqueer characters
have found a home over the recent years. The franchise that has always
branded itself on ‘infinite diversity in infinite combination,’ then, still has
a lot of work to do – work that is currently still mostly done by its fans.

Works Cited

Seth Abramovitch, ‘George Takei Reacts to Gay Sulu News: “I Think It’s
Really Unfortunate”’, The Hollywood Reporter, 7 July (2016), https://www.
hollywoodreporter.com/news/george-takei-reacts-gay-sulu-909154.
Tracy Brown, ‘“Star Trek Discovery” Stars Anthony Rapp and Wilson
Cruz on How Gay Love Saved the Universe’, LA Times, 21 July (2018),
https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/herocomplex/la-et-hc-star-trek-
discovery-love-20180721-story.html.
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BuryYourGays.
Judith Butler, Undoing Gender (Oxfordshire: Taylor and Francis, 2004).
David Cross and Cliff Joannou, ‘Where No Gay Man Has Gone Before’,
Attitude, February (2018).
‘Wilson Cruz talks Season 2 of CBS’ “Star Trek: Discovery”’,
BUILDSeries, YouTube, 13 February (2019), https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=FMxclzeEJHY&t=982s.
Teresa Cutler-Broyles, ‘What We See When We Look in the Mirror: Star
Trek’s Alternative Sexuality’, in Nadine Farghaly and Simon Bacon (eds.) To
Boldly Go: Essays on Gender and Identity in the Star Trek Universe (Jefferson,
NC: McFarland, 2017): 41–53.
Bruce E. Drushel, ‘A Utopia Denied: Star Trek and its Queer Fans’, in Bruce
E. Drushel (ed.) Fan Phenomena: Star Trek (Bristol: Intellect, 2013): 30–41.
Judith May Fatallah, Fanfiction and the Author: How Fanfiction Changes Popular
Cultural Texts (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017).
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Trek’, in Harry Benshoff and Sean Griffin (eds.) Queer Cinema – The Film
Reader (New York: Routledge, 2004): 189–207.
 ‘NEVER HIDE WHO YOU ARE’ 349

——‘“Out of the Closet and Into the Universe:” Queers and Star Trek’, in
John Tulloch and Henry Jenkins (eds.) Science Fiction Audiences: Watching
Doctor Who and Star Trek (New York: Routledge, 1995): 237–65.
—— Textual Poachers: Television Fans and Participatory Culture (New York:
Routledge, 1992).
Katja Kanzler, ‘Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations’ – The Multicultural
Evolution of Star Trek (Heidelberg: Winter Verlag, 2004).
Spencer Kornhaber, ‘The Trope of the Evil Television Bisexual’, The
Atlantic, 28 October (2015), https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/
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First Openly Gay Character’, Out, 5 October (2017), https://www.out.com/
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350 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Episodes Cited

‘The Trouble with Tribbles.’ Star Trek, written by David Gerrold, directed
by Joseph Pevney, Desilu Studios, 29 December, 1967.
‘Judging Books by Covers.’ All in the Family, written by Burt Styler and
Norman Lear, directed by John Rich, Tandem Productions, 9 February,
1971.
‘George.’ M*A*S*H, written by Gary Markowitz and John W. Regier, directed
by Gene Reynolds, 20th Century Fox Television, 16 February, 1974.
‘Killing All the Right People.’ Designing Women, written by Linda Bloodworth-
Thomason, directed by Harry Thomason, Columbia Pictures Television,
5 October, 1987.
‘The Host.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Michel Horvat, directed
by Marvin V. Rush, Paramount Studios, 11 May, 1991.
‘The Outcast.’ Star Trek: Next Generation, written by Jeri Taylor, directed by
Robert Scheerer, Paramount Studios, 14 March, 1992.
‘Rejoined.’ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, written by Ronald D. Moore and René
Echevarria, directed by Avery Brooks, Paramount Television, 30 October,
1995.
‘Stigma.’ Star Trek: Enterprise, written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga,
directed by David Livingston, Paramount Television, 5 February, 2003.
‘Congenitor.’ Star Trek: Enterprise, written by Rick Berman and Brannon
Braga, directed by LeVar Burton, Paramount Television, 30 April, 2003.
‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Craig Sweeny, directed by Akiva Goldsman, Roddenberry
Entertainment, 1 October, 2017.
‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kemp Powers, directed
by Lee Rose, Roddenberry Entertainment, 15 October, 2017.
‘Brother.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Ted Sullivan, Gretchen J. Berg,
and Aaron Harberts, directed by Alex Kurtzman, CBS Television Studios,
17  January, 2019.
‘Saints of Imperfection.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by David Barrett, CBS Television Studios, 14 February, 2019.
‘If Memory Serves.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Dan Dworkin and Jay
Beattie, directed by T.J. Scott, CBS Television Studios, 7 March, 2019.
‘The Red Angel.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Chris Silvestri and Anthony
Maranville, directed by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios,
21 March, 2019.
‘Through the Valley of Shadows.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon
Kim and Erika Lippoldt, CBS Television Studios, 4 April, 2019.
‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part Two.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Michelle
Paradise, Jenny Lumet, and Alex Kurtzman, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 18 April, 2019.
 ‘I Never Met a Female Michael Before’
Star Trek: Discovery between Trans Potentiality and
Cis Anxiety
Si Sophie Pages Whybrew

Ein Gespenst geht um in Europa – das Gespenst des Kommunismus.

Alle Mächte des alten Europa haben sich zu einer heiligen Hetzjagd
gegen dies Gespenst verbündet, der Papst und der Zar, Metternich
und Guizot, französische Radikale und deutsche Polizisten. (Marx
and Engels, 2005, 19)1

Star Trek and the Specter of Trans Potentiality2

In 1847, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels wrote the above words in their
introduction of The Communist Manifesto. In the English translation ‘das
Gespenst des Kommunismus’ turns into the ‘spectre of Communism’
that is ‘haunting Europe’ and is in return being hunted by an alliance
of nineteenth century European powers who seek to ‘exorcise’ it from
their realm and arguably from memory (Marx and Engels, 1978, 473). Of
course, I will be the first to admit that these words have nothing to do
with either Star Trek or transgender identity. Nevertheless, I do feel they
can be usefully employed to highlight the franchise’s incessant obsession

1
In the English translation from Robert C. Tucker’s The Marx–Engels
Reader, this passage reads: ‘A spectre is haunting Europe – the spectre
of Communism. All the Powers of old Europe have entered into a holy
alliance to exorcise this spectre: Pope and Czar, Metternich and Guizot,
French Radicals and German police-spies’ (Marx and Engels, 1978, 473).
2
I want to express my gratitude to the two remarkable editors of this
collection, Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala. Without their input,
dedication, hard work, and expertise, this essay would not have come about.
I am thankful for the opportunity to work with them on this project, for
our friendship, and the time we spent together at various conferences and
events.

351
352 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

with, and simultaneous anxiety about, transgender identification. Indeed,

it is useful to highlight the Star Trek franchise’s embeddedness within
the larger, often violent and most importantly continuous Eurocentric
legacy of trans erasure. When I refer to Eurocentric cultures, I follow
Derek Gregory’s definition of Eurocentrism as ‘[a] world-view that places
“Europe” at the centre of human history’ and is based on ‘the assumption
that it provides the model and master-narrative of world history: that
its histories … are the norm and the rule, from which others learn or
deviate’ (2009, 220). This entails the conviction that ‘its cultural and
political systems act as the bearers of a universal Reason that maps out
the ideal course of all human history’ (2009, 220). According to Gregory,
Eurocentrism is ‘closely entwined with the projects of colonialism and
imperialism’ and thus ‘cannot be confined to the continent of Europe.
Thus, it is ‘a global ideology’ (2009, 221).3 Hence, I would like to propose
that, similar to the specter of communism, the mere potential of trans
identification has haunted Eurocentric cultures both in their colonization
efforts and at home and that Star Trek as a quintessential Eurocentric
narrative reflects this legacy. Similarly, just as Marx and Engels assert
for the specter of communism, the specter of trans potentiality has been
under constant and often violent threat of eradication in Eurocentric
cultures particularly since the emergence our modern gender binary in
the eighteenth century.4

3
This also includes the United States as an outgrowth of European colonialism.
In fact, we might see Star Trek not only as an expression of Eurocentrism but
also of ‘Anglocentrism’ in that it reflects an outlook based on ‘the superiority
of knowledge produced in Anglo-American contexts’ and is indicative of a
‘supposed neutrality of concepts and categories [… and] tend[s] to conceal
the partiality and local character of Anglo-American theoretical [and in this
case cultural] production and reproduce[s] it as “unlimited”, “universal” or
at least “transferable”’ (Simonsen, 2009, 28–29).
4
In his book Making Sex: Body and Gender From Greeks to Freud, Thomas Laqueur
argues that the late eighteenth century saw a shift from a view of ‘sexual
difference as a matter of degree, gradations of one basic male type’ to an
understanding that ‘articulate[d] sharp corporeal distinctions’ between two
clearly distinguished types (men and women) who were seen as ‘different
in every conceivable aspect of body and soul’ a view supposedly based on
‘discoverable biological distinctions’ (2003, 5). According to Laqueur, unlike
its precursor, this two-sex model sought the truth of gender in ‘the stable,
ahistorical, sexed body’ that was used to make ‘prescriptive claims about
the social order’ (Laqueur, 2003, 6). As Laqueur makes clear, this ‘shift in
the interpretation’ (2003, 9) was the result of an epistemological shift in
scientific thought from a focus on ‘resemblances’ towards difference and
‘certain political circumstances’ (Laqueur, 2003, 10, 11). Consequently,
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 353

As Susan Stryker points out for the United States, this anxiety about
gender transgression is reflected in the proliferation of anti-cross-dressing
laws that accompanied urbanization and the resulting formation of early
queer communities and first wave feminist’s efforts at dress reform in
the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (2008, 32–35).5 We can interpret
these efforts and their contemporary counterparts as elements of a
larger project to uphold the untenable, hegemonic belief in Eurocentric
societies that there are, always have been, and always will be only two
genders and that these genders are based on a stable, unchangeable
biological truth, i.e. cisnormativity (Bauer et al., 2009, 356). Cherokee
two-spirit scholar Qwo-Li Driskill connects this trend to the project of
the European colonization of North America:

Colonization has always used our genders and sexualities as a

reason to attack, enslave, or ‘civilize’ us. … ‘Gender’ is a logic,
and a structural system of oppression. … It is a wholly colonial
imposition. This doesn’t mean I think that our identities as men,
as women, as Two-Spirit and trans people are some kind of false
colonial consciousness. I do think, though, that ‘gender’ is a weapon
to force us into clear Eurocentric categories, keep us contained in
there, ensure we monitor each other’s behavior, and, then, while
we are distracted, take our lands. (2016, 167)

Therefore, I assert that Eurocentric societies and their associated cultural

products (including science fiction) are always already marked by cisnor-
mative anxiety about their inherent trans potentiality. As Robert Phillips
points out, ‘The anxiety at the root of this unease with transgender
subjectivity can be traced back, in part, to a fear of the ambiguous’ (2014,
20). For, as Susan Stryker makes clear, ‘To encounter the transsexual

Laqueur emphasizes that ‘Sex, in both the one sex and the two-sex worlds,
is situational, it is explicable only within the context of battles over gender
and power’ (2003, 11).
5
Of course, it bears mentioning that this anxiety arguably finds one of
its most dramatic expressions in the surgical alteration and erasure of
intersex children (Fausto-Sterling, 1993, 23; Fausto-Sterling, 2000, 8;
Preves, 2003, 20; Holmes, 2009, ix–x). However, as intersexuality is not
a gender identity, but rather ‘an umbrella term that describes incongruity
between external genitalia, internal reproductive anatomy, hormonal levels,
and chromosomes,’ grouping the violation of intersex children’s bodily
autonomy under the umbrella of trans potentiality and anxiety would
be reductive even if the latter can be considered to be an outgrowth of
cisnormativity (Reis, 2011, 373).
354 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

body, to apprehend a transgendered consciousness articulating itself, is to

risk a revelation of the constructedness of the natural order’ (2006, 254).
In the case of Star Trek, the franchise’s ambivalent and contradictory
relationship towards divergent gender identities and expressions, and the
possibility of trans identification, is well documented both in scholarship
and fan discussions. For example, Victoria B. Korzeniowska notes that
Star Trek: The Next Generation (TNG) (1987–1994) was marked by ‘obvious
moves towards androgyny and sexual equality in career function’ but
the show ultimately ‘perpetuates the prescriptive notion of gender-
stereotyped behavior’ in that it only allows ‘minor figures to deviate
from these paradigms’ (1996, 19). As Jack Fennell points out, one of
these deviations can be seen in the TNG pilot episode ‘Encounter at
Farpoint’ in which as he puts it ‘two physiologically male crewmembers
can be seen wearing short-sleeved mini-dress uniforms (also called
“skants”) similar to those worn by Deanna Troi and various other female
crewmembers’ (2017, 72). Although Katharina Andres points out that
these ‘male dresses’ also find their expression in the dress uniforms
worn by central male characters such as Captain Jean-Luc Picard, she
makes clear these uniforms only appear in ‘very few episodes’ and
‘either disappear after a short time or, in case of the dress uniforms,
are replaced by a less dress-like uniform consisting of a long jacket and
black pants’ (2013, 645).
Another example of how the show addresses the potential of divergent
gender identities is through the allegory of alien species. Ironically,
although the franchise might try to suggest the possibility of alternative
gender identities through this strategy, it ultimately serves to reinforce
cisnormativity in that it juxtaposes a human cisgender crew with alien
societies that diverge from this norm and thus seems to suggest that all
humans are cis, whereas trans or gender non-conforming identities are
something alien to humanity. In other words, by choosing to address
divergence of gender identity through the allegorical allusion of alien
species, Star Trek ultimately places them outside the realm of intelligibility
(Butler, 2004, 57). This is significant because being placed outside of the
realm of intelligibility means that they ‘fail to be protected by the law’
(Butler, 2009, ii). Thus, this lack of intelligibility puts trans individuals
in a precarious position and ‘at heightened risk for harassment and
violence’ (2009, ii).
One of the most prominently evoked instances of this theme are the
symbiotic Trill. Susan J. Wolfe (2006) describes the Trill as ‘an alien
race in which humanoids “join with” symbionts, slug-like creatures
each of which lives in the abdominal cavity of its host, with whom
it then shares a single fused consciousness.’ In fact, Fennell identifies
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 355

the Trill as one of ‘three broad tropes’ with which the franchise
addresses the idea of a change in ‘gender presentation or biological
sex’ (2017, 77). However, while ‘a symbiont dwells alternatively
inside males and females, the hosts are chosen for their ‘suitability
for joining, not his/her gender’ (Wolfe, 2006). This stands in stark
contrast to trans experience in which transitioning is the result of
an incongruity between gender identity and gender assignment at
birth (Stryker, 2008, 1). The first appearance of the Trill on TNG
involves a romance between the doctor of the U.S.S. Enterprise Dr.
Beverly Crusher (Gates McFadden) and a Trill ambassador named
Odan. Tellingly, this romance ends abruptly when Odan’s male host
(Franc Luz) is killed, and the symbiont is transferred to a female host
(Wolfe, 2005). Strikingly, Dr. Crusher, who had no problem continuing
their relationship when Odan temporarily shared the body of her
long-term friend Commander William Riker (Jonathan Frakes), ends
the relationship at this point by telling Odan:

Perhaps it is a human failing, but we are not accustomed to these

kinds of changes. I can’t keep up. How long will you have this
host? What would the next one be? I can’t live with that kind
of uncertainty. Perhaps, someday, our ability to love won’t be so
limited. (‘The Host,’ 4x23)

This not only betrays the show’s reluctance to address same-sex desire
and love (Bernardi, 1998, 116–17; Wolfe, 2005), but also Dr. Crushers
and arguably the show’s unease about the possibility of gender fluidity
and transition.
The franchise revisits the species on Deep Space Nine (DS9) in the
form of the recurring character Jadzia Dax (Terry Farrell) – later Ezri
Dax (Nicole de Boer). Interestingly, despite the troubled introduction
of the Trill on TNG, both Jadzia and Ezri became thoroughly linked
to trans identification and experience, both in academic discourse
and the fandom more broadly. For example, Kathy E. Ferguson
argues ‘while each host is categorizable within the gender binary,
the overall subject position proliferates outside of those terms’ (2002,
186). Likewise, Lauren Coates of the website The Mary Sue writes:
“Though it may not have been intentional, many fans of Deep Space
Nice have come to view the Trill as coded representation for the
transgender community” (2019). This development was likely helped
by the fact that the show explored all nine, differently gendered
hosts of the Dax symbiont and their relationships to one another
(Ferguson, 2002, 184). As Ferguson notes, ‘[e]ach of the hosts, and
356 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

sometimes their friends as well, plays with the gender slippage of

their embodied situation’ (2002, 185). Importantly, the fact that Dax
was a recurring character allowed the show to explore ‘the way she’s
treated by other characters,’ which in turn offered many points of
identification for ‘transgender Trekkies’ (Coates, 2019). For example,
in an article entitled ‘When I Transitioned, I Looked to Dax’ on the
website Women at Warp, Elissa Harris writes: ‘She [Dax] may not be
explicitly trans, but in terms of the stories that get told through her
– about gender, personal change, social discomfort and assumptions
based on appearances… she is very much trans’ (2017). Strikingly,
Harris writes of her experience with the character:

When I saw Dax as a kid, I saw someone who had done what I
wished I could do, and to my absolute shock when I finally did it
myself, I discovered that Star Trek had, without me even realizing,
given me a basis for at least beginning to understand what this
might be like. (2017)

However, as Coates points out, ‘the comparison [with trans experience]

is hardly a perfect one,’ but rather the identification can be seen as a
result of ‘a community that has seen little to no genuine representation
for decades’ (2019). Likewise, in an article entitled ‘How Deep Space
Nine Almost Didn’t Fail Me’ in Uncanny Magazine, David J. Schwartz
notes:

DS9 deals with Dax’s own identity conflicts on numerous occasions,

but these are presented as problems of many faces, of perceptions,
or of suppressed memories. Never once are we shown that Dax
experiences dysphoria or agonizes over a disconnect between body
and mind. (2017)

Another and arguably one of the most telling examples of this

allegorical approach to alternative gender identities in Star Trek before
Discovery stems from the TNG episode ‘The Outcast’ (5x17) and its presen-
tation of the alien species of the J’naii. As Stephen Kerry describes them,
the J’naii are an androgynous alien species and more importantly a
society that has ‘outlawed’ any gender identity and forcibly corrects those
among them who exhibit any signs of binary gender identification (2009,
704). Originally conceived as an allegorical attempt at presenting a gay
rights argument, the episode centers on a romantic encounter between
Commander Riker and a J’naii named Soren (Kerry, 2009, 704). As Kerry
points out, the fact that Soren ‘is played by a female actor makes the
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 357

claims that this is a “gay” episode ludicrous’6 (2009, 704–05). Instead,

the episode accidentally addresses the question of gender identity and
normativity when Soren reveals to Riker that she identifies as a woman
(Fennell, 2017, 86). As a result of the ensuing relationship, Soren is
discovered, tried, and, despite Riker’s attempts to save her, forced to
undergo conversion therapy (Fennell, 2017, 86).7 While the episode might
have functioned as an important critique of both conversion therapy and
cisnormativity the fact that the show constructs a fictional scenario in
which a gender non-conforming society oppresses those among them
who identify with a binary gender (i.e. the reverse of cisnormativity)
turns reality on its head and seems to suggest that non-binary individuals
are a threat to binary people or aim to erase them. Thus, ‘The Outcast’
clearly reveals the Star Trek franchise’s unease with trans identification. As
these examples show, the Star Trek franchise has exhibited a continuing
unease about gender non-conformity and the prospect of gender transition
throughout its many iterations.8

6
As Kerry also points out, Jonathan Frakes had originally advocated for
Soren to be played by a male actor (Kerry, 2009, 205).
7
For more on these two episodes and a general discussion of queer represen-
tation in Star Trek, see Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala’s essay
on ‘“Never Hide Who You Are”: Queer Representation and Actorvism in
Star Trek: Discovery’ in this volume.
8
In addition to the examples discussed above, Stephen Kerry identifies and
discusses two examples of the trope of ‘the pregnant male’ on Star Trek
(2009, 706–07). It is also worth mentioning that the term ‘transgender’
(although in its grammatically and politically incorrect variant) appears
for the first and only time in a wedding toast delivered by Lieutenant
Commander Data in the movie Star Trek: Nemesis. Here, Data addresses
the wedding party with the words ‘Ladies, gentlemen, and invited
transgendered species.’ It should be noted that its use is not just grammat-
ically incorrect, but also completely nonsensical. Viewers are left to ponder
what ‘transgendered species’ might be. Are they species that always fail to
identify with their assigned gender and, if so, why do they assign gender
at birth despite its apparently universal fallaciousness? Or are they just
species that do not fit within the purview of the apparently still universal
human conception of binary gender and, if so, is it not speciecist of Data
to label them as such? All we know is that they are certainly not ‘ladies’
or ‘gentlemen’ who apparently do not need to be identified according to
species.
358 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘A Surprising Name’ or the Peculiar

Reception of Star Trek: Discovery

I will now explore how the previously mentioned themes of trans

potentiality and cis anxiety found their reflection in the initial reception
of Discovery. As I will show, Discovery’s reviewers initially struggled to
come to terms with its nascent trans potentiality. In fact, when it was
announced that the show’s female protagonist would bear the name
‘Michael Burnham,’ speculation and worry emerged among online
commentators about the prospect that Michael might be Star Trek’s first
transgender character. On the day of the announcement, CNET’s Amanda
Kooser titled her story ‘“Star Trek: Discovery” Lead Gets a Surprising
Character Name’ and offered two explanations for this ‘intriguing choice.’
First, she raised the question of whether ‘Michael [is] a more common
woman’s name in the future?’ Second, she asked, ‘Could the character
possibly be transgender’ (2017)? Likewise, LGBTQ Nation’s Dawn Ennis
acknowledged that there thus far had been no explanation for the
choice of name, but that it ‘might be an awesome step in gender-neutral
characters, or perhaps it’s a pronunciation thing’ (2017). Andrew Whalen
of the website Player.One wondered about the ‘main character with a
mysterious name’ and remarked that ‘Michael isn’t exactly known as
a gender-neutral name,’ but while he also suggested the possibility of
a trans character, he concluded ‘the most likely explanation is that
Michael Burnham is part of the long Star Trek tradition of breaking
apart traditional categorical norms’ and thus chalked the name choice
up to ‘Star Trek’s internationalist future, where the erasure of national
boundaries has also meant the intermingling of labels and cultural
signifiers’ (2017). Others were far less careful in their pronouncements.
The Daily Star’s Peter Dyke boldly asserted ‘Star Trek Discovery: Netflix
show to have its first ever transgender character’ only to backtrack at
the end of the article by pointing out: ‘The transgender speculation is
just a rumour’ (2017). However, there were also more worried tones.
On one side of the political spectrum, Michael Bedford of the website
Monkeys Fighting Robots, while also indulging in speculations about a
possible trans character, worried about the prospect of this character
being portrayed by a cis actor ‘yet again’ (2017). On the more conservative
side, a commentator on the blog Fansided named Ketwolski warned that
‘If the writers are indeed creating our first transgender Trek character,
they need to do so with caution. Put too much light on her sexuality
and it becomes an SJW [social justice warrior] issue; alienating your
baby-boomer crowd’ (2017). The same user expressed his worries more
directly in the accompanying YouTube video remarking:
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 359

I don’t mind the gay, I don’t mind the bi, I don’t mind the lesbian,
I don’t mind the transgender, I don’t mind any of that stuff, but
in this time period those lifestyles, those, those you know sexual
orientations they are not important, none of its important. … It’s
just a natural part of life, it’s just there, that’s just it. … So as long
as she wants to play a transgender character, that’s great, but I don’t
want a scene where they look at the camera and they are like ‘we
got transgender characters, look how cool we are.’ … That’s not
Star Trek to me. (Ketwolski, 2017)

On the far right, the host of the self-titled Dave Cullen Show expressed
outright frustration at Discovery having chosen the name Michael for a
woman and worried about the ‘infestation of Star Trek by social justice
warriors and feminist ideology’ (Cullen, 2017). Manu Saadia probably
best summed up this last group of responses in the title of his article
in The New Yorker: ‘For Alt-Right Trolls, “Star Trek: Discovery” Is an
Unsafe Space.’ In it, Saadia, remarks that ‘Many commenters … were
clearly appalled by the absence of white men in command positions’ and
points out that one even ‘dubbed the show “Star Trek: Feminist Lesbian
Edition.”’ Sadly, Saadia’s article fails to observe the outrage over Michael
Burnham’s name but, importantly for this chapter, he does highlight the
‘complete absence of … even mildly gender-fluid characters in Starfleet
uniforms’ (2017).
As these responses reveal, the choice of the show’s main character’s
name was troubling enough to trigger a diverse range of anxious responses.
In the end, most of these speculations and worries turned out to be
unfounded when Michael Burnham was revealed to be a cisgender woman
who just happened to go by the name Michael. Nevertheless, later articles
offered several different explanations to alleviate the seemingly ongoing
mystification. In an article on ComicBook.com, Jamie Lovett highlights that
choosing male-sounding names for female lead characters is a hallmark of
the show’s co-creator Bryan Fuller. Sonequa Martin-Green – the actress
who plays Michael – is also quoted as saying: ‘I appreciated the statement
it makes all on its own to have this woman with this male name, just
speaking of the amelioration of how we see men and women in the future.’
Furthermore, she suggests: ‘I also just decided for my creation and for
my background and whatnot that I was named after my father’9 (Lovett,
2017). Nevertheless, the fact that the name provoked so much worry and
speculation and evidently demanded this much clarification is very telling,
and as I will show also finds its expression on Star Trek: Discovery itself.

9
The show’s second season confirms that Michael was named after her father.
360 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

Trans Potentiality and Cis Anxiety on Star Trek: Discovery

‘I never met a female Michael before’ (1x03, ‘Context is for Kings’)

Interestingly enough, Discovery does not address the name directly
in its first two episodes. In these episodes, we primarily see Michael
interact with the crew of her old ship, the U.S.S. Shenzhou. As a result,
although Michael’s name might puzzle viewers given the fact that she
is otherwise clearly presented and addressed as a woman, it is of little
significance to the onscreen crew and thus does not merit any discussion
(1x01, ‘The Vulcan Hello’; 1x02, ‘Battle of the Binary Stars’). This only
changes when Michael arrives on the U.S.S. Discovery and meets her
new roommate Cadet Sylvia Tilly (Mary Wiseman). In a rather comic
scene, an overexcited Tilly reflects the audience’s unease discussed above
when she, upon hearing Michael’s name, chuckles, rolls her eyes and
responds ‘I never met a female Michael before’ and to top it off even
remarks ‘do you think that suits you?’ Only to answer the question
herself by blurting out ‘I’ll call you Mickey. I think that’s a little more
approachable.’ However, her enthusiasm at resolving her own discomfort
is quickly dampened when Michael drily and clearly annoyed responds,
‘No, you won’t.’ At which Tilly shyly remarks to herself ‘Oh yeah, no
I won’t’ and observes ‘the only other female Michael that I have ever
heard of was Michael Burnham the mutineer. You’re not her, are you?’
At this, Michael slowly turns her head towards Tilly and stares at her
with a serious and challenging expression (1x03).
Not only does the scene disprove the notion that gender is a non-issue
or that gendered terms and names have lost their normative power in the
future of Star Trek. More importantly, it offers the most obvious avenue of
identification and recognition to trans viewers in all of the first season of
Discovery. Although Tilly’s response to Michael’s name might be interpreted
as a reassuring gesture towards a presumed cisgender audience in the
sense of a comforting ‘you are not alone in your cis anxiety,’ the scene
will also be familiar to trans viewers. Not only will the experience of
having someone question your name or pronouns ring true with many
trans folx, but the way in which Tilly tries to resolve her own discomfort
by declaring ‘I’ll call you Mickey. I think that’s a little more approachable’
will be painfully familiar to them, too. Here, the ‘more approachable’
can be seen as a veiled demand for a more feminine gender presentation,
which should also find its expression in the more playful and as such
‘more feminine’ name. On the other hand, Michael’s clear rebuke of
Tilly’s imposition of identity will likely provide a point of identification
and validation to trans viewers. Ultimately, this remains the only scene in
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 361

which Michael’s name is directly addressed throughout the first season of

Discovery. At the same time, the show leaves no doubt about the fact that
Michael seemingly has no issue with being addressed and identified as a
woman. Throughout the first season, Michael is continuously addressed
with female pronouns, called a ‘daughter’ on many occasions and neither
protests nor seems to experience any discomfort at this. Also, thanks to
numerous flashbacks, viewers get to witness Michael at various stages
throughout her life without any radical changes in either gender identity
or expression. Consequently, the show puts to rest any speculation with
regards to Michael being the franchise’s first human transgender character.
However, as I will discuss below, this does not mark the end of Discovery’s
apprehension towards trans potentiality.

The Tyler/Voq Story: Star Trek: Discovery meets the

Transsexual Empire

Although the scene between Tilly and Michael is the most obvious
example of trans potentiality and cis anxiety during the first season of
Star Trek: Discovery, it is certainly not the most glaring display of the latter.
This questionable honor belongs to a narrative arc that I will call ‘the
Tyler/Voq Story’ or ‘Star Trek: Discovery meets the Transsexual Empire.’ As
the name indicates, this story revolves around two characters – namely,
Lieutenant Ash Tyler (Shazad Latif), the chief of security aboard the USS
Discovery, and a Klingon named Voq, who was originally the designated
leader of the Klingon Empire but was deposed and forced into hiding
(1x06, ‘Lethe’; 1x02, ‘Battle at the Binary Stars’; 1x04, ‘The Butcher
Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry’).
When the viewers last see Voq, he is talking to L’Rell (Mary Chieffo)
aboard the U.S.S. Shenzhou after having been abandoned there by his
rival Kol (Kenneth Mitchell). In this scene, L’Rell tells him that he has
lost his followers to Kol and that they will now ‘have to strategize on a
grander scale.’ Moreover, she informs him that ‘In order to convince the
24 houses to follow T’Kuvma’s teachings, you must win this war.’ When
Voq inquires what her plan is she tells him that she will take him ‘to
the home of the Mo’Kai’ where she will leave him ‘with the matriarchs,
who will expose you to things you never knew possible.’ However, L’Rell
warns Voq that this ‘comes at a cost,’ to which he inquires ‘What must
I sacrifice?’ To this L’Rell responds with an ominous ‘Everything’ that
is further underscored by foreboding music in the background as the
camera zooms into Voq’s face (1x04). This is the last that the audience
sees of Voq for much of the first season.
362 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

The audience is first introduced to Tyler in the subsequent episode.

Here, Tyler is a prisoner aboard a Klingon prison ship where he was
tortured and raped10 by L’Rell, his captor (1x05, ‘Choose Your Pain’).
After being freed by the captain of the U.S.S. Discovery, Tyler quickly
becomes an integral part of its crew (1x05; 1x06). That is until he
encounters L’Rell again during a mission to infiltrate and destroy the
Klingon flagship, at which point his carefully kept facade falls apart as
his memories of what happened to him are triggered causing him to
have a severe panic attack (1x09, ‘Into the Forest I Go’). Initially, this
is explained to the audience as a result of torture-induced PTSD (1x09).
This narrative begins to show cracks in the following episode that is
suggestively titled ‘Despite Yourself’ (1x10). Here, Tyler actively seeks
out L’Rell in the ship’s brig to ask her what was done to him. In the
ensuing scene, Tyler lowers the forcefield and the two move closer, as if
they are about to kiss. However, instead, Tyler grips L’Rell by the throat
in a gesture that evokes a similar scene between Voq and L’Rell aboard
the U.S.S. Shenzhou (1x10; 1x04). When Tyler relaxes his grip on her,
L’Rell begins to recite a Klingon prayer, Tyler’s face twitches, and he
begins to recite it with her. Not only does this scene establish a clear if
troubled bond between Tyler and L’Rell, but the fact that Tyler recites
the prayer with her and his reaction to it suggest that he is clearly not
only suffering from PTSD but might actually be a Klingon sleeper agent
that L’Rell is trying to activate (1x10).
Tyler continues to have further blackouts throughout the episode
and seeks out Dr. Hugh Culber (Wilson Cruz) for help. However, rather
than offering relief, the latter nervously tells him: ‘it appears that the
Klingons have transformed you both mentally and physically’ and refuses
to clear him for duty. At this, Tyler starts hearing the Klingon voice of
L’Rell and breaks Dr. Culber’s neck. This establishes Tyler not just as a
Klingon infiltrator (Voq) disguised in a human body and hidden behind
a human identity, but a dangerous infiltrator at that – a conclusion that
is further underscored by Lieutenant Stamets’ ghostly remark: ‘The
enemy is here’ (1x10).

10
I purposely use the term rape here as it reflects Tyler’s remembered
experience of the events. Although it may be argued that Tyler remembers
consensual sexual encounters between L’Rell and her lover Voq – with
whom Tyler unbeknownst shares both consciousness and body – I feel it
is vital to center Tyler’s experience of these memories. In fact, even if, as
the show seems to suggest, Voq actively and willingly participated in these
encounters, Tyler certainly did not. Indeed, Tyler himself asserts this when
he confronts L’Rell in the brig and tells her, ‘You forced me’ (1x10, ‘Despite
Yourself’).
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 363

Tyler is seemingly unaware of these events when he joins Michael

on a mission to infiltrate the Mirror Universe’s I.S.S. Shenzhou. In fact,
he tells her, ‘Whatever happens to you or me. However we change. I am
here to protect you.’ Nevertheless, in the next and equally suggestively
entitled episode ‘The Wolf Inside,’ it becomes obvious that Tyler will
not be able to fulfill this promise (1x11). During a mission, Tyler/Voq
starts having flashbacks of T’Kuvma (Chris Obi) speaking and attacks
Voq’s double from the Mirror Universe. After they return to the ship,
a distraught Michael confronts Tyler about his erratic and dangerous
actions. During this conversation, Tyler/Voq tells her:

I remember it all. We needed to infiltrate your ship. Learn your

secrets. You were willing to betray your captain to protect your
people. I sacrificed my body and mind to protect mine. I have the
human’s face now, but inside I remain Klingon. I remain Voq, son
of none. The torchbearer. (1x11)

In response, Michael tries to reassure Tyler that Dr. Culber will find
a way to help him but, to her horror, Voq replies, ‘Dr. Culber saw
past this feeble body into the heart and mind of a warrior, which is
why I killed him.’ (1x11) When Michael draws her phaser to defend
herself, Voq tries to kill her but is stopped by Mirror Universe Saru
(Doug Jones) and arrested. As this scene reveals, Tyler was Voq all
along – even if the former was not aware of it – and used his disguise
to infiltrate the Discovery. Further, it shows that Voq is extremely
dangerous and will stop at nothing to avenge T’Kuvma or win the
war. However, it also suggests an additional conclusion. Namely, that
Voq unwittingly through the actions of Tyler also invaded Michael’s
heart and body. This latter aspect will be of particular significance for
the remainder of my analysis.
At first glance, none of this has anything to do with trans identity –
that is, until Discovery actively suggests this link in a scene from episode
1x14, which is tellingly entitled: ‘The War Without, the War Within.’
At this point, Voq’s personality has been removed from the mind he
shared with Tyler after Saru successfully convinced L’Rell to perform
the removal procedure by arguing that both Voq and Tyler would die
otherwise. As Saru is informed by the doctor, ‘By all assessments, the
patient now presents as Ash Tyler… I find no remaining evidence of
Klingon aggression or muscular stamina.’ When Saru inquires whether
Tyler is ‘Human or Klingon’ now the doctor responds ‘Neither, both?
We can’t be sure not without understanding the science behind the
reassignment procedure’ and suggests that they ask Tyler about it. In this
364 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

context, several elements suggest an implicit connection to (outdated)

medical terminology viewers may connect to discussions about trans
identification. First, the fact that the doctor remarks, ‘the patient now
presents as Ash Tyler’ may evoke this association. More importantly,
the term ‘reassignment procedure’ is particularly problematic. In fact,
it becomes even more problematic when Tyler explains the process in
the following words: ‘The Mo’Kai call it a choH’a.’ Species reassignment
protocol. Specifically designed to infiltrate classified Starfleet intelligence’
(1x11). As the blogger Benny Vimes observes in a post on the website
The Orbit, Tyler’s description of the process Voq underwent as ‘a species
reassignment protocol’ is eerily similar to the medical term ‘sexual
reassignment surgery.’ This creates a troubling link between the Tyler/
Voq invasion narrative and trans identity. Although the latter term has
at this point been largely superseded by the terms ‘gender affirming
surgery’ or ‘gender confirmation surgery,’ this association will likely
still be evoked with many trans- as well as cisgender viewers. Hence, as
Vimes points out, a potentially valuable discussion of PTSD is replaced
with a narrative that ‘seems to intentionally compare the experience
Tyler/Voq has undergone to the experience of transgender people.’ This
is particularly troublesome considering all we learn about this process.
As Vimes remarks:

Voq didn’t undergo this process because he deeply identified as a

human. He stole the appearance, memories, and personality of a
non-consenting human prisoner in order to infiltrate a group of
people he wanted to harm. His identity as a Klingon never changed,
nor did his values. He only underwent this process in order to
trick Starfleet into thinking of him as one of them. (Vimes, 2018)

Moreover, the fact that Voq kills Dr. Culber further establishes him as a
violent and dangerous intruder. As Vimes makes clear, ‘Voq’s behavior is
exactly what those who oppose transgender people believe we do. They
believe that trans women are men pretending to be women in order to
infiltrate cis women’s spaces and do them harm.’ Hence, although the
Tyler/Voq story is reflective of the general science fiction trope of alien
invasion or infiltration, it is also indicative of another invasion fantasy
that is explicitly transphobic. Namely, it brings to mind the transphobic
fantasies about trans women invading cis women’s bodies and spaces by
trans exclusionary radical feminists like Mary Delay, Janice Raymond,
Germaine Greer, and, most recently, Sheila Jeffreys. As my space in
this chapter is limited, I will limit myself to a brief examination of the
similarities between the Tyler/Voq arc and Janice Raymond’s transphobic
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 365

diatribes from her 1979 book The Transsexual Empire. As Raymond writes
here,

All transsexuals rape women’s bodies by reducing the real female

form to an artifact, appropriating this body for themselves. … Rape,
although it is usually done by force, can also be accomplished by
deception. It is significant that in the case of the transsexually
constructed lesbian-feminist, often he [sic] is able to gain entrance
and a dominant position in women’s spaces because the women
involved do not know he [sic] is a transsexual. (Raymond, 1994,
104)

In the pages that follow this remarkable display of paranoid transphobia,

Raymond attempts to establish a connection between trans women and
the historical figure of the eunuch and argues that trans women similar
to them function as ‘“keepers” of woman-identified women’ in that they
infiltrate their spaces and exert patriarchal control over them in order
to ‘rise in the Kingdoms of the Fathers’ (1994, 105–06). Consequently,
in Raymond’s opinion, trans women only transition in order to invade
cis women’s spaces and exert violent control upon their unexpecting
occupants. Gender-affirming medical care is portrayed as a means of
deception to perpetrate violent actions. It is this image that the Tyler/
Voq story invokes, regardless of whether consciously or unconsciously. In
fact, although the show mainly focuses on the invasion of a seemingly
safe space,11 as I pointed out above, the show also suggests the former
in that Voq, through the actions of an unaware Tyler, also invades
Michael’s heart and body and even tries to kill her in her own personal
safe space – her quarters. This violation of her safe space and the trust
she felt towards Tyler is made even worse by the fact that Michael
had to be on constant guard as she interacts with the Mirror Universe
crew of the I.S.S. Shenzhou and only found respite from this dangerous
situation in her quarters and the safety she felt with Tyler. This means
that Discovery’s horror story of the ‘species reassignment protocol’ just
like its gothic and radical feminist precursors is indicative of an anxious
fear at the realization that our ‘cultural constructions of what is “natural”
and “normal” are in fact illusory and fragile’ (Haefele-Thomas, 2018,
111). For, as Patricia Elliot and Lawrence Lyons point out, ‘The trans

11
Here, the invasion of a Starfleet ship and the violation of the safety,
communality, and commonality within by a Klingon in disguise can be
seen as analogous to Raymond’s narrative of trans women gaining access
to cis women’s spaces through ‘deception.’
366 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

project … makes the presumably natural unnatural, and the presumably

essential merely contingent’ (2017, 363). Ultimately, the way Discovery
chooses to confront this troubling realization is particularly frustrating
considering that, as Vimes suggests:

[The writers] could have called it a ‘species overlay process’ or

a ‘body and memory swap’ or any one of many other options.
They chose instead to use a phrase that calls to mind the medical
procedures that make so many people in our current culture
deeply uncomfortable, and to amplify rather than decrease that
discomfort. (2018)

Thus, whether wittingly or through lack of awareness, Discovery

reiterates the paranoid fantasies of trans exclusionary radical feminists
or radical lesbian feminist (RLF) and gives them a new lease on
life, if only by association. As Elliot and Lyons make clear, in
this discourse trans people must appear as dangerous because they
represent ‘transgressive boundary crosser[s] who undermine … the
clear boundaries marking the fixed categories of sex that are necessary
for the identity of the RLF community’ (2017, 362). This community is
based on a discourse that identifies ‘the Tyranny of masculine power’
as a threat that it seeks to escape through ‘the community of the
feminine, defined in opposition to it’ (2017, 362) a seemingly utopian
vision based on the premise that ‘the body itself is a natural signifier
of sexual identity’ (2017, 363).

A New Hope?

At this point in this chapter, I have discussed how Star Trek: Discovery
is both indicative of trans potentiality in that it offers potential points
of identification for trans viewers, but that it also invokes a transphobic
legacy – due to an unfortunate choice of words – and thus reflects
Eurocentric anxieties about the possibility of trans identification.
Nonetheless, this does not mean that Discovery is bound to continue
on this troubling journey. As I see it, the ideal way for Discovery to
maneuver itself out of this situation is to finally acknowledge humanity’s
inherent transness. This could be done by introducing compelling trans
characters. In doing so, Discovery might offer a positive counter-narrative
to the troubling associations evoked by the Tyler/Voq story. That being
said, in its second season Discovery has chosen a different path. Rather
than introducing trans characters, the show’s writers decided to refocus
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 367

the Tyler/Voq narrative on Tyler’s traumatic experience. As a result,

viewers see Tyler grapple with his trauma and hybrid identity as he
negotiates his relationship with L’Rell, the Klingon Empire, and the
Federation (2x03, ‘Point of Light’). In fact, the show continues to have a
strong focus on the issues of hybridity and transformation. For example,
these themes also find their expression in the transformative experience
of Saru (2x04, ‘An Obol for Charon’), and Dr. Culber’s experience of
returning from the dead (2x05, ‘Saints of Imperfection’). This shift away
from the most troubling aspects of the Tyler/Voq narrative towards the
exploration of trauma and hybrid identity offers interesting possibilities.
However, the fact that Discovery continues to avoid any discussion of
trans identities seems to be indicative of continued anxiety towards
representing them on Star Trek.
Nevertheless, it seems important to point out that representation
alone is a deeply flawed and imperfect solution. For as Reina Gosset,
Eric A Stanley, and Johanna Burton remark in the introduction to their
2017 book Trap Door: Trans Cultural Production and the Politics of Visibility:

while representation is often viewed as a “teaching tool” that

allows those outside our immediate social worlds and identities
to glimpse some notion of a shared humanity [… we] must also
grapple and reckon with radical incongruities—as when, for example,
our ‘transgender tipping point’ comes to pass at the same political
moment when … trans women of color … are experiencing markedly
increased instances of physical violence. (Gosset et al., 2017, xvi)

Consequently, I would like to end with the words of Che Gossett from the
same collection. Gossett points out that trans visibility is often ‘premised
on invisibility’ in that, in order to ‘bring a select few into view,’ it tends
to make other less desirable subjects ‘disappear into the background’ and
thus ‘reinforces oppression.’ This causes Gosset to conclude that

The violence of colonialism and racial slavery, through which

Black, queer, and/or trans identities have been forged, cannot be
addressed through the politics of ‘trans visibility’ as these are based
on ‘respectability politics’ that not only obfuscate liberatory trans
politics …, but ultimately offer little recourse to those of us most
targeted by the prison regime and white supremacy under the guise
of feminism. (2017, 183–84)

As Gossett’s words illustrate, trans visibility can only ever be a small

part of a much greater political struggle, and we need to interrogate it
368 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

for the exclusionary norms it reproduces. Ultimately, this means that

whatever form of trans representation the future of Star Trek may offer,
it will have to be further questioned for the exclusions it creates.

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Episodes Cited

‘The Host.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Michel Horvat, directed
by Marvin V. Rush, Paramount Television, 13 May, 1991.
‘The Outcast.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Jeri Taylor, directed
by Robert Scheerer, Paramount Television, 14 March, 1992.
‘The Vulcan Hello.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller and Alex
Kurtzman, directed by David Semel, CBS Television, 24 September, 2017.
‘Battle at the Binary Stars.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller,
directed by Adam Kane, CBS Television, 24 September, 2017.
 ‘I NEVER MET A FEMALE MICHAEL BEFORE’ 371

‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller, Gretchen
J. Berg, and Aaron Harberts, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television,
1 October, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television, 8 October, 2017.
‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg et al.,
directed by Lee Rose, CBS Television, 15 October, 2017.
‘Lethe.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Joe Menosky and Ted Sullivan,
directed by Douglas Aaniokoski, CBS Television, 22 October, 2017.
‘Into the Forest I Go.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bo Yeon Kim and Erika
Lippoldt, directed by Chris Byrne, CBS Television, 12 November, 2017.
‘Despite Yourself.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Sean Cochran, directed by
Jonathan Frakes, CBS Television, 7 January, 2018.
‘The Wolf Inside.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa Randolph, directed by
T.J. Scott, CBS Television, 14 January, 2018.
‘The War Without, the War Within.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Lisa
Randolph, directed by T.J. Scott, CBS Television, 4 February, 2018.
‘Point of Light.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Andrew Colville, directed by
Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television, 31 January, 2019.
‘Obol for Charon.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordon Nardino, Gretchen
J. Berg, and Aaron Harberts, directed by Lee Rose, CBS Television,
7  February, 2019.
‘Saints of Imperfection.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by David Barrett, CBS Television, 14 February, 2019.
 Veins and Muscles of the Universe
Posthumanism and Connectivity in
Star Trek: Discovery
Lisa Meinecke

Star Trek: Discovery does not just take us back to the time of the Klingon
Wars; it also introduces us to a never before seen class of spaceships,
the Crossfield class. The U.S.S. Discovery, NCC-1031, is Starfleet’s state-of-
the-art science vessel, with the capacity for a complement of 136 officers
(1x05, ‘Choose Your Pain’) and 300 science projects at top clearance
level. As many of the experiments conducted onboard are top secret
or black ops, the Discovery is heavily armed and secured by Starfleet’s
intelligence forces. The ship’s scientific endeavors are applied science;
while the Discovery is deployed to explore the universe, the research
conducted here aims to develop technologies for Starfleet’s military
branch (1x03, ‘Context is for Kings’). The main, and most secret, research
project is the displacement-activated spore hub drive: an experimental
propulsion system installed in addition to the typical warp and impulse
drives. Both spaceships of the Crossfield class, the Discovery and her sister
ship, the U.S.S. Glenn, are equipped with this technology, enabling and
employing the research of Discovery’s astromycologist Lieutenant Paul
Stamets (Anthony Rapp) and Straal (Saad Siddiqui), his counterpart
on the Glenn. Stamets’ and Straal’s research centers on a species of
fungus called prototaxites stellaviatori, whose root network is spread over
a subspace domain covering the entire universe. As Stamets explains,
the spores of prototaxites stellaviatori are the ‘progenitors of panspermia,’
‘the building blocks of energy across the universe’ (1x03). Its mycelium
comprises the ‘veins and muscles that hold our galaxies together’ (1x03).
The mycelium is a biophysical organic structure that enables quantum
entanglements and thus connects all organisms of the universe across
spacetime. The astromycologists have discovered that the mycelium can
function as a network of pathways, which can be accessed by the fungal
spores, ‘an infinite number of roads, leading everywhere’ (1x03), and
developed an experimental drive system in order to travel the mycelium
with the help of the spores, the aforementioned spore drive.

373
374 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

***

As this spore drive takes a pivotal role in many of the show’s narratives,
literally driving the plot along over the course of the first season, this
essay aims to set a spotlight on this system, to analyze its entanglements
with the multiverse, the ship, and the crew. Furthermore, the spore drive
will be contextualized in the canon of the franchise, tracing reconfigu-
rations and new imaginations of older narratives at the core of Star
Trek. The drive system and its entanglements will be juxtaposed with
The Next Generation’s (TNG) Data and the Borg. This will enable analysis
of Discovery’s reimagination of connectivity and embedded cybernetic
embodiment, opening up new spaces for an overarching posthumanist
critique of the franchise.
As all fungal root networks, Star Trek: Discovery’s mycelium is
rhizomatic in nature, and I will turn to the work of French philosophers
Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari to grasp the multiplicities of mycelial
interconnections and entanglements. Deleuze and Guattari employ the
concept of fungal roots to express an ontology of radical, anti-hierar-
chical, de-centralized connectivity. The aim of this analysis is not to
equate the fictional mushroom of Star Trek: Discovery with this imagery
simply for the convenience of relating one mushroom root to another,
but the rhizome appears useful as an inherently chaotic ontology: ‘any
point of a rhizome can be connected to anything other, and must be’
(Deleuze and Guattari, 2008, 7). The rhizome is therefore not only an
objection to any kind of ontological (or epistemological, for that matter)
hierarchy or structural order, but also the idea of radically de-centralized
connectivity that creates meaning, that is in a constant state of flux
(Deleuze and Guattari, 2008, 21).
The second figuration in this essay’s analysis is Donna Haraway’s
seminal cyborg, ‘a cybernetic organism, a hybrid of machine and
organism, a creature of social reality as well as a creature of fiction’ (1991,
145). The cyborg will help us shed light on posthumanist narratives in
Star Trek: Discovery, on the blurring of boundaries between organism and
machines, on the connection between the drive and the mycelium, and
the way human and non-human agencies are constituted in relation to
that boundary. However, the cyborg, as understood by Haraway, is also
a metaphor for a radical social and feminist politics, and we would do
well to remember that:

Cyborg feminists have to argue that ‘we’ do not want any

more natural matrix of unity and that no construction is whole.
Innocence, and the corollary insistence on victimhood as the only
 VEINS AND MUSCLES OF THE UNIVERSE 375

ground for insight, has done enough damage. But the constructed
revolutionary subject must give late-twentieth-century people pause
as well. In the fraying of identities and in the reflexive strategies for
constructing them, the possibility opens up for weaving something
other than a shroud for the day after the apocalypse that so
prophetically ends salvation history. (Haraway, 1991, 157–58)

The story of the spore drive and Stamets’ entanglements with it is not
merely about a new spaceship propulsion system troubling the narrative
conventions of a well-established franchise, but also a political statement
about cosmic ecology and a deconstruction of the discursive binaries
between machine and organism, nature and technology, individual
subjectivity and collective embeddedness. Rosi Braidotti describes
posthuman knowledge as an epistemology that ‘enacts a fundamental
aspiration to principles of community bonding, while avoiding the twin
pitfalls of conservative nostalgia and neo-liberal euphoria’ (Braidotti,
2013, 11). Working with the cyborg and Braidotti’s critical posthu-
manism, which is, not incidentally, strongly influenced by Deleuzian
nomadic thought, means to engage with a problematization of the
autonomous subject and also with a wholehearted declaration for and
affirmation of the subjectivities of the Other.
This frame is, however, troubled by Haraway’s rejection of Deleuzian
concepts. Linda Williams points out that

Haraway’s critical dispute with Deleuze and Guattari is essentially

founded on questions of degree in measuring the relations of
interdependence between the human and the non-human world,
along with differing perspectives on the most effective means to
develop awareness of such processes of interdependence. (Williams,
2009, 44)

Haraway’s conceptualization of interspecies companionship has little

consideration for Deleuze and Guattari’s disdain towards domesti-
cation in favor of the pack: ‘The dumb subject who, for Deleuze and
Guattari appears to represent “the masses,” for Haraway is a subject that
communicates quite regularly with non-human alterity, if only in daily
conversations with the family pet’ (Williams, 2009, 49). While both sides
argue against a strict binary and power hierarchy between humans and
non-human animals, the point of contention is in the perspective on
interspecies entanglements. For this analysis it is important to point out
that Haraway’s ontologies are grounded in materialism, unlike Deleuzian
becomings, which constitute ‘a becoming conscious, and a becoming
376 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

active in human relations with a non-human world conceived as a

perpetual process of interaction, flux and communication’ (Williams,
2009, 50).

***

While Star Trek has always been known for its staunchly enlightened
liberal humanism, Discovery allows for the potential to take a step further
by introducing the mycelium. Universal liberal humanism (commonly
attributed to franchise creator Gene Roddenberry) is a mindset that
centers on the inherent goodness and rationality of mankind and rests
on a linear teleology of progress. According to Braidotti, ‘[f]aith in the
unique, self-regulating and intrinsically moral powers of human reason
forms an integral part of this high-humanistic creed’ (Braidotti, 2013,
13). In Star Trek, humanity has progressed to a bright, enlightened future,
all social hardships and struggles have been transcended. Mankind has
joined together as one and endeavors to explore the galaxy, driven by
inherent curiosity and thirst for adventure (TNG, 1x26, ‘The Neutral
Zone’). Here, human connection is created on the basis of rationality
and humanist values. Alien species encountered throughout the galaxy
are held to these standards of humanity, and, if they are able to share
these value systems, can be enfolded into the Federation, and thus
human society. What lies at the heart of the utopian vision of the Star
Trek franchise are the strengths of liberal humanism: an ever-optimistic
trust in mankind, grounded in belief in equality, rationality, and human
dignity.
However, liberal humanism has increasingly come to be criticized
for lacking consideration for the lived realities of society as well as for
the consequences of structural imbalances of power. Humanism has
little space for diverse perspectives and, at its worst, is ignorant to the
struggles of marginalized people due to its central focus on universalist
values. Braidotti explains:

Central to this universalistic posture and its binary logic is the

notion of ‘difference’ as pejoration. Subjectivity is equated with
consciousness, universal rationality, and self-regulating ethical
behaviour, whereas Otherness is defined as its negative and specular
counterpart. In so far as difference spells inferiority, it acquires both
essentialist and lethal connotations for people who get branded
as ‘others’. These are the sexualized, racialized, and naturalized
others, who are reduced to the less than human status of disposable
 VEINS AND MUSCLES OF THE UNIVERSE 377

bodies. We are all humans, but some of us are just more mortal
than others. (2013, 15)

Steering away from older Trek traditions, Discovery allows us to imagine a

different vision of the future, which values and celebrates the intricacies
of living in a pluralistic society. The mycelium establishes a network
of common threads connecting and balancing all living things in the
multiverse, no matter how different. Discovery’s mission succeeds not
because of humanity’s intrinsic potential for progress, but specifically
by allowing space for difference, for a multitude of perspectives, and by
taking the Other seriously. As Anna Tsing states in her seminal work
about the (non-fictional) matsutake mushroom, ‘[f]ungi are thus world
builders, shaping environments for themselves and others’ (2015, 138).
The mycelium’s purpose is exactly this: connecting and balancing the
universe and all living things; the nature of the universe can thus be
considered organic. Tsing also explains the rhizomatic properties of
fungal roots:

Mycorrhizas form an infrastructure of interspecies interconnection,

carrying information across the forest. They also have some
of the characteristics of a highway system. Soil microbes that
would otherwise stay in the same place are able to travel in the
channels and linkages of mycorrhizal interconnection. Some of
these microbes are important for environmental remediation.
Mycorrhizal networks allow forests to respond to threats. (2015,
139)

The spore drive makes use of this highway function of the mycelium
of prototaxites stellaviatori. Straal and Stamets were able to develop a
propulsion system that enables a starship to travel the mycelium in small
‘jumps’ (1x03). At the beginning of the series, both the Discovery and
the Glenn have been able to employ their experimental spore drives in
this way. However, the system is highly unstable and volatile as the ship
computers are unable to select, secure, and navigate single hyphae of the
mycelium to reach a specific, predetermined location in the universe.
Stamets on the Discovery is cautious in the face of this danger as well
as cautious of Starfleet’s goal of using his research in the war against
the Klingons; he keeps his jump attempts limited. This is an ongoing
source of tension between himself and Captain Lorca (Jason Isaacs) who,
as we find out over the course of the season, intends to use the spore
drive technology to transfer back to his home, the alternative Mirror
Universe. Stamets’ colleague, however, is less restrained and attempts
378 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

progressively longer jumps over further distances, resulting in an accident

with catastrophic consequences, killing the entire crew, including Straal
himself (1x03).
Investigating the ruins of the Glenn, the Discovery’s away team
discovers an aggressive and monstrous alien creature, which has killed
an entire Klingon landing party, obviously in pain and distress. The
creature is transferred to the Discovery for the purpose of investigating
its role in the Glenn’s accident. Specialist Michael Burnham (Sonequa
Martin-Green), who is a xenoanthropologist by training and experienced
in studying alien life, is tasked with examining the still raging creature.
Despite the alien’s aggressive panicked rage, which results in the death
of security chief Ellen Landry (Rekha Sharma), Burnham realizes that it
is, in fact, not merely a predator, but that it lives in symbiosis with the
fungus and its spores. In fact, the alien resembles a gigantic tardigrade
and shares some of the properties of this earth animal, its physical
resilience to extreme environmental conditions and, most interestingly,
the capacity to incorporate the DNA of the fungus into its own genetic
makeup via a process of horizontal gene transfer (Arakawa and Blaxter,
2018, 17). By sharing DNA with the fungus, the animal gains access to
the mycelial network and is able to travel the universe with the help
of the spores, a natural spore drive (1x04, ‘The Butchers Knife Cares
Not for the Lambs Cry’; 1x05, ‘Choose Your Pain’).

***

Jon Wagner and Jan Lundeen frame the role of DNA in the storytelling
traditions of Star Trek as a regularly used plot device that functions
twofold; to invoke notions of scientific rationality on the one hand,
but also to ‘stand in for the antique metaphysics of teleological predes-
tination and invisible essences’ on the other: ‘throughout all of Trek’s
post-1960s corpus, DNA is used in a mystical sense, in which these
humble replicating proteins take on cosmic metaphysical role as the
keepers of the sacred essence and destiny of a person, race or species’
(Wagner and Lundeen, 1998, 153).
Star Trek: Discovery relies clearly on these narrative traditions when
it comes to the relationship between the tardigrade and the mycelium.
By incorporating the foreign DNA of the fungus, the tardigrade is not
merely in symbiosis with the network, it takes part in it and shares
some of its basic substance (in the Aristotelian sense; see Wagner and
Lundeen, 1998, 151). Here, as indicated by Wagner and Lundeen, the
incorporation of the fungal DNA by the alien tardigrade is ostensibly
 VEINS AND MUSCLES OF THE UNIVERSE 379

grounded in scientific reality, but also the somewhat mystical impetus

of what Deleuze and Guattari call a becoming: an intimate connection
between organisms, an entanglement that creates a new multiplicity
and changes all participants involved in symbiosis on a substantial
level (Deleuze and Guattari, 2008, 238–39) and ties together all life.
‘Each multiplicity is symbiotic; its becoming ties together animals,
plants, microorganisms, mad particles, a whole galaxy’ (250) and ‘each
multiplicity is already composed of heterogeneous terms in symbiosis,
and that a multiplicity is continually transforming itself into a string of
other multiplicities, according to its thresholds and doors’ (249). Deleuze
and Guattari point out that these multiplicities are defined and shaped
by their borders and that the borderline is constituted by the Outsider or
Anomalous, who secures the stability of the processes of becoming and
sets the course for the lines of flight, for the pathways of the rhizome:

Each multiplicity is defined by a borderline functioning as

Anomalous, but there is a string of borderlines, a continuous line
of borderlines (fiber) following which the multiplicity changes. And
at each threshold or door, a new pact? A fiber stretches from a
human to an animal, from a human or an animal to molecules,
from molecules to particles, and so on to the imperceptible. Every
fiber is a Universe fiber. A fiber strung across borderlines constitutes
a line of flight or of deterritorialization. It is evident that the
Anomalous, the Outsider, has several functions: not only does it
border each multiplicity, of which it determines the temporary or
local stability (with the highest number of dimensions possible
under the circumstances), not only is it the precondition for the
alliance necessary to becoming, but it also carries the transfor-
mations of becoming or crossings of multiplicities always farther
down the line of flight. (Deleuze and Guattari, 2008, 249)

Stamets and Burnham realize that the missing element necessary to

stabilize the Discovery’s spore drive system is exactly the tardigrade,
anchoring it in the position of the Outsider in the multiplicities that
come into existence when the drive is connected to the mycelium. The
animal can be employed as a living computer, functioning as navigator
for the drive and therefore granting safe passage through the mycelium.
They also realize that Straal had started to work on interface technology
in order to connect the tardigrade to the drive system (1x04). According
to the Federation’s central ideological principles, the animal needs to be
a willing participant in the navigation process. However the insistence
of Burnham, Stamets, and medical officer Dr. Culber (Wilson Cruz)
380 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

on protecting the tardigrade’s dignity is contested by Starfleet’s desire

to build more spore drives and capture more tardigrades, in order to
replicate Discovery’s propulsion system beyond the prototype (1x05).
For Starfleet, the tardigrade is a working animal, more of a material
resource and logistical support than a sentient participant in a complex
collaboration (Braidotti, 2013, 70).

***

Since Burnham and Stamets are unable to communicate with the animal
directly, and it seems to suffer under the conditions of the jumps, Stamets
proposes an alternative plan: a human volunteer could be genetically
manipulated with the tardigrade’s DNA, in order to take its place in
symbiosis with the mycelium and to function as human computer in the
navigation system of the drive. This plan is rejected instantly by Acting
Captain Saru (Doug Jones), who has taken command after Captain Lorca
was kidnapped by the Klingons, reminding us that genetic engineering is
illegal in the Federation (as are all eugenic experiments). Saru, enacting
his interpretation of Lorca’s authoritarian style of command, decides to
integrate the tardigrade into the system without its explicit consent,
reasoning that the physical resilience of the animal will ensure it comes
to no harm (1x05).
The drive connects the ship to the mycelium, which is connected to
the tardigrade at the interface, creating a complex cybernetic multispecies
assemblage. Discovery can use the animal’s mind to create a star map
to the mycelium and is therefore now able to jump across the known
universe in an instant. Deleuze and Guattari also use the image of a
map to describe the rhizome:

The map is open and connectable in all of its dimensions; it is

detachable, reversible, susceptible to constant modification. It can be
torn, reversed, adapted to any kind of mounting, reworked by an
individual, group, or social formation. It can be drawn on a wall,
conceived of as a work of art, constructed as a political action or
as a meditation. Perhaps one of the most important characteristics
of the rhizome is that it always has multiple entryways. (2008, 12)

The rhizome of the mycelium includes the Discovery on its jumps, they
are connected to the tardigrade and the fungus in a symbiotic process of
becoming-with. Discovery now has access to the multiplicities of possible
pathways across the universe, to an infinite number of possible entrances,
 VEINS AND MUSCLES OF THE UNIVERSE 381

but also to an equally infinite number of exits. The computing power

of the tardigrade’s mind, embedded in the mycelium, enables secure
jumps over extremely large distances. Discovery now has the ability to
travel any place in the known universe in an instant.
However, the activation of the spore drive comes at considerable cost.
While the tardigrade is capable of coping with the extreme physical strain
of having to navigate the ship through the mycelium, the animal still
seems to suffer. The technology scavenged from the Glenn is not designed
for being particularly gentle to the navigator: interfacing the tardigrade
with the drive involves two big robotic arms with large needles piercing
the body of the animal to connect to its neural networks (1x04, 1x05).
Burnham notes that the animal seems ‘incredibly regenerative, but with
each jump Discovery makes, it cries out. And the last 48 hours, it seems
sluggish. Depressed.’ (1x05). Acting Captain Saru rejects Burnham’s
concerns and orders her to keep the drive system running as, due to
the animal’s extreme physical strength and resilience, there are no clear
harmful impacts measurable. The tardigrade’s mental state deteriorates
more and more with every jump and, in a crucial moment, when the
Discovery is threatened by a Klingon ship, the animal goes into stasis.
Saru is willing to act against the Federation’s principle and orders Stamets
to revive the tardigrade, even though Dr. Culber cautions that this will
likely cause its death. Unwilling to be responsible for the creature’s
continued suffering, Stamets injects himself with the tardigrade’s DNA
and takes its place as the ship’s navigator, against Saru’s orders and the
laws of the Federation (1x05).

***

Unlike the tardigrade – which is freed and released into space to travel
the mycelium – Stamets is a willing, and in fact enthusiastic participant
as navigator of the drive system. Dr. Culber creates small implants for
Stamets’ forearms for the drive to be plugged into and redesigns the
interface technology to enable a minimally invasive connection to the
ship’s system (1x07, ‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad’), since
Stamets’ human body does not have the same physical strength and
regenerative properties as the tardigrade’s. Still, the procedure changes
Stamets. He is in a process of becoming-with the tardigrade and the
mycelium, intensified by the physical demands of the drive. While
integrated into the drive, Stamets becomes part of the multiplicities of the
mycelium. This process is continuous and transformative. Integrated into
the drive system, Stamets steps apart from Discovery and allies himself
382 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

to the mycelium and the tardigrade: in his liminal position between the
ship and the network, he receives the ability to cross these boundaries
and gain access to new pathways.
Stamets takes on the tardigrade’s position in the drive system and
thus the ability to navigate through and thus communicate with the
network, he commits to an alliance with the mycelium. His mind
and, in fact, his body are quite literally opened to another plane of
existence. This manifests at first in a state of somewhat uncharacteristic
euphoria and affection towards his friends and colleagues; after all,
Stamets just connected to all living things in a profoundly spiritual,
transcendent experience (1x07). However, he slowly starts to slip,
because his consciousness is not equipped to sustain a prolonged state
of entanglement with all cosmic life. The side-effects of being entangled
with the spore drive include existing simultaneously in the Discovery’s
original dimension and the mycelial plane, which allows Stamets to
remain outside of Harry Mudd’s (Rainn Wilson) time loop (1x07), but
Stamets’ mind also slips deeper into the mycelium and he starts to have
flashes of an alternative reality (1x08, ‘Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum’).
Later in the season, the spore drive and Stamets’ connection becomes
integral to Lorca’s betrayal of his crew and the ships’ voyage to and
back from the alternative Mirror Universe (1x09, ‘Into the Forest I Go’;
1x13 ‘What’s Past Is Prologue’). Stamets gets stuck in the mycelium
and loses his ability to cross the borderline back to Discovery due to
manipulations by his Mirror Universe counterpart, who has worked to
create a massive reactor, not only providing power to a huge spaceship,
but also to a weapon capable of destroying entire planets. The network
cannot sustain this draining of mycelial energy and starts to collapse
due to the imbalance, threatening all life in the multiverse. Stamets
also meets his newly deceased partner Dr. Culber in the network and
their relationship strengthens Stamets’ connection to the mycelium.
Culber also warns Stamets of the deterioration of the network caused
by its weaponization in the Mirror Universe (1x12, ‘Vaulting Ambition’).
Secure in his entanglements with the network and with the help of
Ensign Tilly’s efforts to save him, he is able to return to the Discovery
and, having fully leaned into his connection with the network, gains the
ability to use the spore drive securely and without the threat of losing
himself in the network. This ultimately allows him to guide Discovery
back to its home universe (1x13).
However, the fungus – and thus the spore supply for the drive – on
Discovery have already been corrupted and died. Stamets realizes that he
has to destroy the I.S.S. Charon’s reactor in order to allow the mycelium
to regenerate, but the only option is to use the entire remaining spore
 VEINS AND MUSCLES OF THE UNIVERSE 383

supplies on Discovery, load them into torpedoes and shoot them into
the reactor core. Discovery is able to coast home on the shock wave
of mycelial energy, navigated by Stamets plugging back into the drive
system. Navigating the regenerating rhizome almost causes him to lose
his way, but he is successfully able to balance his connections to the
drive and the network by relying on his relationship with Culber and
his advice to find the ‘clearing in the forest’ (1x13). He is able to lead
Discovery home, but overshoots, arriving nine months in the future,
when the war with the Klingons has already been lost.

***

The mycelial network is a multispecies rhizome, entangling and

empowering all life. Stamets’ drive technology is an extremely powerful
transhumanist cybernetic biotechnology at the interface to this network.
As such, these narratives are not unknown to Star Trek; Discovery here
takes a new spin on stories that have been told in earlier incarnations
of the franchise. The question of the ethics of using the tardigrade as
a navigator to the detriment of the creature is strongly reminiscent of
Star Trek: Voyager’s double episode ‘Equinox’ (5x26, 6x01). In this episode
the Voyager encounters another Starfleet ship, the Equinox, which has
also been displaced to the Delta Quadrant. It turns out that the Equinox
crew have been killing aliens from a different dimension to boost their
warp drive capacity. Similar to Discovery’s decision to plug the tardigrade
into the spore drive, this was originally a crisis decision. Unlike Voyager,
Equinox had not been able to make friends or allies in the Delta Quadrant
and had been in a constant struggle with hostile aliens and perpetually
threatened by a lack of resources to keep going. The alien species starts
to attack Equinox in self-defense, which further alienates the ship’s crew
from the idea that these beings are lifeforms that should be respected.
They are now a hostile enemy species and killing them may be morally
wrong, but also considered to be necessary to be able to travel through
the inhospitable Delta Quadrant towards the Federation’s safe havens.
Saru’s decision to employ the tardigrade as navigator is motivated by
a similarly existential anxiety: just like the Equinox, he has to cope with
the loss of a stable command structure and feels constantly threatened
by his environment. The difference: as soon as Voyager finds out about
what is happening on the Equinox, Captain Janeway (Kate Mulgrew) tries
everything in her power to curtail further use of the aliens for fuel. She is
acting within the ethical framework of the Federation’s principles, which
requires her to protect the alien life forms. She is, simply put, not having
384 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

any of it. Lorca, however, has no particular qualms about harming an

alien life form and orders Stamets, Culber, and Burnham to disregard
any signs that the creature is suffering, thus proving his speciesism and
foreshadowing the later revelation of his fascist character. Saru’s role in
this is slightly more complex due to his anxious disposition. As indicated
above, and shown in episode 1x08 in full consequence, Saru always feels
threatened and is always in crisis. He explains early on:

Your world has food chains. Mine does not. Our species map is
binary; we are either predator or prey. My people were hunted,
bred, farmed … we are your lifestock of old. We were biologically
determined for one purpose, and one purpose alone – to sense the
coming of death. (1x01, ‘The Vulcan Hello’)

This is instrumentalized by Lorca, whose aggressive military actions

further heighten the Kelpien’s sense of continuous danger. After the
creature goes into stasis, he tells Burnham to ‘pry it open if you have
to’ (1x05). In crisis mode, and under pressure to recover the kidnapped
Captain Lorca, Saru does not stop to consider the possible ethical ramifi-
cations of his actions and he is also willing to accept the consequences
of causing harm to a creature for the benefit of his crew. He rejects
not only Burnham’s advice, because he considers her a threat, blaming
her for starting the Klingon war and the death of Captain Georgiou
(Michelle Yeoh), but he refuses to communicate with his crew about the
best possible strategy to ensure Lorca’s safe return. Instead he decides to
mirror Lorca’s militaristic authoritarianism and decides that harming the
tardigrade is an acceptable means to the end of saving the captain. He
almost seems resentful of the creature for its physical resilience. In his
crisis, he shows little sympathy to a being very different from himself: for
the Kelpien, who is by nature easily hurt and defenseless, the tardigrade’s
physical power and strength must seem extremely alienating.
In Star Trek, there is a tradition of employing imaginations of
the posthuman to sharpen the liberal humanism at the core of the
franchise. In TNG (1987–1994), the android Data is on a quest to become
more human, precisely to illustrate what makes us human: ‘The Next
Generation’s depiction of identity centers on the liberal production of
the human self as one driven by becoming. Becoming is, of course,
the context in which subjectivity is constituted as an ongoing and
never-complete process of performances’ (Cover, 2011, 209). Data’s
story exemplifies this idea of what being human means in Star Trek.
He is one of the arguably few characters in TNG who undergoes a
significant character development over the course of the show, because
 VEINS AND MUSCLES OF THE UNIVERSE 385

the franchise’s core ideology requires him to try to perform ‘being

human’ in progressively complex ways: his personal rights are a matter
of ongoing debates (TNG, 2x09, ‘Measure of a Man’; TNG, 3x16 ‘The
Offspring’), he tries his hand in various creative activities ranging from
painting to poetry, keeps a pet, and cultivates strong friendships with
the Enterprise’s crew. For the android character, this is about fitting
into the cultural and social environment of the Enterprise, his quest to
become as human as possible is as much about the ideal of enlightened
humanism as it is about a marginalized character trying to pass in a
hegemonic culture. Data himself states: ‘If being human is not simply a
matter of being born flesh and blood, if it is instead a way of thinking,
acting and… feeling, then I am hopeful that one day I will discover my
own humanity’ (TNG, 4x11, ‘Data’s Day’). Data facing everyday social
life on the Enterprise therefore defines what humanness means on the
ship and on the show. The show’s humanist core shines particularly
brightly when Data struggles or makes mistakes, in instances where he
enacts his becoming-person.
The android’s story is both framed and contested by the introduction
of the posthuman other in a number of different incarnations. On the
planet on which he was originally found, the Enterprise crew discovers
the dismembered parts of Data’s ‘brother’ Lore (TNG, 1x12, ‘Datalore’),
an android of the same model, but with a crucial addition: a computer
chip that allows Lore to express human emotion, which Data himself
lacks. However, despite his apparent superior skill set, Lore proves
to be erratic, ruthless, violent, and unwilling to adapt to Starfleet’s
cultural norms. Where Data tries to integrate into Federation society,
Lore considers himself inherently logically and physically superior to
humankind and thus rejects the show’s anthropocentric ideology by
striving for posthuman supremacy, a conflict at the heart of many
narratives about the technicized other. Data’s process of becoming is
highlighted through the lens of his potential to become posthuman,
which is then further problematized by the Borg.

***

The Borg collective became arguably the most iconic antagonists of

the entire franchise, precisely because they stand fundamentally and
diametrically opposed to Starfleet’s (and, specifically, Picard’s) liberal
humanism. They are a hivemind of cybernetic drones without any
personal identity in search of control, order, and perfection, which they
aim to achieve by relentlessly conquering other species and integrating
386 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

them into their collective, assimilating them. The assimilation process

requires the members of the species to become Borg. They are not only
integrated into the hive, but their bodies are also altered substantially in
order to turn them into drones. Arms, eyes, and other body parts are
crudely replaced by technology and physical functions are partly replaced
by interfaces to the collective; Borg drones do not need food or sleep.
In TNG’s production context, their mindless totalitarianism serves as a
compelling representation of Cold War socio-politics and technology.
Robert Tindol points out:

The Borg … are a state of mind and a “bad idea” rather than a
racial or perhaps even an ethnic identity. Seemingly paralleling
anti-Communism in its most paranoid manifestations, the fear of the
Borg is the fear of a dire fate to which death is decidedly preferable.
“Better morgue than Borg” may not have quite the ring that “better
dead than red” possessed, but a tempting assumption is that the
creation of the Borg for the 1980s Star Trek: The Next Generation
television series was in keeping with the longstanding employment
of movie and television genres as metaphoric encounters with the
Soviet Union. (Tindol, 2012, 152)

The Borg thus signify the opposite of the core values of the Federation.
Their collective rhizomatic hivemind stands opposed to the franchise’s
focus on the autonomous subject: the Borg are neither autonomous, nor
subjects. Therefore, they are a danger to everything Starfleet values,
from personal identity to cultural pluralism and diplomacy, but they
also serve as a mirror narrative to problematize Star Trek’s ideological
set up. Daniel Bernardi points this out in his influential book Star Trek
and History: Race-ing Toward a White Future:

Bent on assimilating civilization into its mechanistic way of life, the

Borg actually start with the Enterprise – a small city itself. They then
proceed to ‘assimilate’ the Enterprise crew in hopes of changing
the past to dominate the future. The result is a multiracial mass
that threatens the humanistic world of the democratic Federation
and its all-too-white heroes. (1998, 87–88)

Both Starfleet and the Borg share progressivist and imperialist politics
which are in many ways quite similar. Starfleet strives to create a better
society through political union with other species and integrating them
into a Leitkultur consistently dominated by human and Vulcan cultures,
the Borg aim for perfection through order and homogeneity through a
 VEINS AND MUSCLES OF THE UNIVERSE 387

radicalized concept of sameness. Considering this, the Borg are not only
iconic enemies in a show that does not usually go for ‘dark’ or ‘edgy’
content, but also open up space for a possible critical reading of Star
Trek’s ideology. This furthermore enables a critical examination of liberal
humanism itself, an idea that has come to be increasingly contested
particularly in academic humanities and cultural studies. Mia Consalvo
argues for the Borg:

Putting aside their conquering tendencies, the Borg live as one –

all voices are equal, all work is shared. Isolation is not an option,
discord is unknown. For human society struggling with increasing
alienation, rage and fear, this way of life may be tempting, at
least on some levels. The Borg offer another way of doing things.
(2004, 197)

Here, the Borg have come to be considered not only a mirror narrative
contesting the Federation’s humanism, but also a genuinely desirable
political alternative. Whether or not one is assimilated into the collective
or not almost seems to come down to a personal lifestyle choice.

***

To summarize, the cybernetic Borg collective is commonly read

as cyborgs as introduced in Haraway’s cyborg manifesto. In some
ways this interpretation is an obvious one, since the Borg are, well,
cyborgs. They lack a clear origin story, they are both technological
and organic, a collective lacking race or gender, and they are direct
descendants from the Cold War military industrial complex. However,
as explained above, Haraway’s cyborgs are as much about science
fiction as they are about a material reality (Haraway, 1991, 150),
they are a social metaphor for a radically emancipatory politics of
hybridity that transcends dichotomies between nature and culture,
male and female, productive and reproductive work. Cynthia Fuchs
reads TNG 4x01 (‘The Best of Both Worlds, Part Two’) through the
lens of Haraway’s cyborg:

Profoundly challenging the notion of an embodied and discrete

masculine identity, this image of a penetrated, ungendered and
unfamiliar Picard collapses conventional binary terms of difference:
self and other, desire and repulsion, culture and nature, death and
life. Simultaneously absorbing and punctured by multiple inorganic
388 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

implants, Picard’s is a white male body in crisis, contestable, without

desire or agency, and spectacularly incorporated. (1995, 282)

This is where a reading of the Borg through the lens of the Manifesto
fails: as cyborg collectives go, the crude assemblages of bulky technology
and violated organism are simply not particularly hybrid. There are no
liminalities between their organic and their machinic parts; part of
what makes the Borg an effective body is that their bodies are roughly
pieced together and lack cohesion. Their totalitarianism reterritorializes
the rhizome of their hive mind, their potential for connectivity and new
multiplicities are curtailed by their desire for radical sameness and total
normativity. While the monstrosity of the drone bodies does just barely
problematize human masculinity by means of the penetrative surgeries
required in assimilation, the drones as well as Picard-as-Locutus (TNG,
4x01) retain their gender by default. And Consalvo errs in attesting
egalitarianism to the Borg – all voices are not equal in the collective,
mostly because there is merely a single, static, hive and all individual
subjectivities have been violently dissolved into the hive. Resistance is,
after all, futile.
Situating Discovery’s mycelial network, the spore drive, the tardigrade,
and Stamets’ interface in the context of TNG allows us to reframe the
overarching narrative tradition of posthumanism in Star Trek. I argue
that the mycelial network reframes well-established narratives about
rhizomatic cyborg connectivity. In many ways, the story of the spore
drive echoes the Borg: both are giant rhizomatic structures, multispecies
assemblages, concerned with balance for all life in the universe. Like
the Borg, the mycelium problematizes notions of personal identity and
autonomous subjectivities in Stamets’ multispecies becomings. The
mycelium takes up the mantle from the Borg collective in a reimagi-
nation of everything that appears politically desirable about the Borg in
contemporary progressive politics and updates the narrative to include
not only indications of connectivity and egalitarian pluralism, but also
an ecology of sustainability and resilience. In this, Stamets is much
more a Cyborg in Haraway’s sense than the Borg ever were, with all
the emancipatory potential for a new, critically posthumanist ontology.
At the end of the first season1 his cybernetic becomings create true,
balanced hybridity on a radically open map to the multiverse.

1
This essay mainly focuses on reading Star Trek: Discovery season one through
the lens of Star Trek: The Next Generation. A broader comparative analysis
with the rest of the franchise (i.e. Star Trek: First Contact (1996, dir. Jonathan
 VEINS AND MUSCLES OF THE UNIVERSE 389

Works Cited

Kazuharu Arakawa and Mark Blaxter, ‘Tardigrades in Space’, The Biologist,

65.1 (2018): 14–17.
Daniel Bernardi, Star Trek and History: Race-Ing Toward a White Future (New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1998).
Rosi Braidotti, The Posthuman (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2013).
Mia Consalvo, ‘Borg Babes, Drones, and the Collective: Reading Gender
and the Body in Star Trek’, Women’s Studies in Communication, 27.2
(2004): 177–203.
Rob Cover, ‘Generating the Self: The Biopolitics of Security and Selfhood
in Star Trek: The Next Generation’, Science Fiction Film & Television, 4.2
(2011): 205–24.
Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and
Schizophrenia, translated by Brian Massumi (London and New York:
Continuum, 2008).
Cynthia J. Fuchs, ‘“Death Is Irrelevant”: Cyborgs, Reproduction, and the
Future of Male Hysteria’, in Chris Hables Gray (ed.) The Cyborg Handbook
(New York and London: Routledge, 1995): 281–300.
Donna J. Haraway, ‘A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-
Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century’, in Donna J. Haraway (ed.)
Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature (New York and
London: Routledge, 1991): 149–81.
Robert Tindol, ‘The Star-Trek Borg as an All-American Captivity Narrative’,
Brno Studies in English, 38.1 (2012): 151–58.
Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility
of Life in Capitalist Ruins (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015).
Jon G. Wagner and Jan Lundeen, Deep Space and Sacred Time: Star Trek in the
American Mythos (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1998).
Linda Williams, ‘Haraway Contra Deleuze and Guattari: The Question of
the Animals’, Communications, Politics, and Culture, 49.1 (2009): 42–54.

Episodes and Films Cited

‘Datalore.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Robert Lewin and
Maurice Hurley, directed by Rob Bowman, Paramount Domestic
Television, 18 January, 1988.
‘The Neutral Zone.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Deborah
McIntyre and Mona Clee, directed by James L. Conway, Paramount
Domestic Television, 16 May, 1988.

Frakes)), especially in light of the introduction of the JahSepp and the

Control A.I. in Star Trek: Discovery’s second season, merits further research.
390 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

‘The Measure of a Man.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Melinda
M. Snodgrass, directed by Robert Scheerer, Paramount Domestic
Television, 13 February, 1989.
‘The Offspring.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by René Echevarria,
directed by Jonathan Frakes, Paramount Domestic Television, 12 March,
1990.
‘The Best of Both Worlds, Part Two.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written
by Michael Piller, directed by Cliff Bole, Paramount Domestic Television,
24 September, 1990.
‘Data’s Day.’ Star Trek: The Next Generation, written by Harold Apter, directed
by Robert Wiemer, Paramount Domestic Television, 7 January, 1991.
‘Equinox, Part One and Two.’ Star Trek: Voyager, written by Rick Berman,
Brannon Braga, and Joe Menosky, directed by David Livingston,
Paramount Television, 26 May/22 September, 1999.
‘The Vulcan Hello.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Akiva Goldsman and Bryan
Fuller, directed by David Semel, CBS Television Studios, 24  September,
2017.
‘Context is for Kings.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Bryan Fuller, Gretchen
J. Berg, and Aaron Harberts, directed by Akiva Goldsman, CBS Television
Studios, 1 October, 2017.
‘The Butcher’s Knife Cares Not for the Lamb’s Cry.’ Star Trek: Discovery,
written by Jesse Alexander and Aron Eli Coleite, directed by Olatunde
Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 8 October, 2017.
‘Choose Your Pain.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Gretchen J. Berg, Aaron
Harberts, and Kemp Powers, directed by Lee Rose, CBS Television Studios,
15 October, 2017.
‘Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by
Aron Eli Coleite and Jesse Alexander, directed by David M. Barrett, CBS
Television Studios, 29 October, 2017.
‘Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Kirsten Beyer,
directed by John S. Scott, CBS Television Studios, 5 November, 2017.
‘Vaulting Ambition.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Jordon Nardino, directed
by Hanelle M. Culpepper, CBS Television Studios, 21 January, 2018.
‘What’s Past is Prologue.’ Star Trek: Discovery, written by Ted Sullivan,
directed by Olatunde Osunsanmi, CBS Television Studios, 28 January,
2018.

Star Trek: First Contact. 1996. Directed by Jonathan Frakes. Paramount

Pictures.
 Coda
Star Trek and the Fight for the Future
Sabrina Mittermeier and Mareike Spychala

Several of the essays in this collection analyze how Star Trek: Discovery’s
(DSC; 2017–ongoing) first two seasons, set as they were ten years before
The Original Series (TOS; 1966–1969), grapple with, nod to, and extend
the existing canon of the Star Trek franchise. While this situation
within the timelines of the franchise’s fictional universe allowed DSC
to comment on and interrogate established storytelling patterns and
tropes, it also put limitations on the worldbuilding and narratives that
could be told and necessitated a number of explanations to make any
pretense at continuity within the universe feasible. In the first season,
the U.S.S. Discovery’s sojourn in the Mirror Universe had to be classified
and kept secret from the rest of Starfleet and the remaining Federation
to explain why the crew of the Enterprise–A in TOS had never heard of
it when some of them cross over accidentally in ‘Mirror, Mirror’ (2x04).
Now, at the end of season two, it seems as if all of the Starfleet records
on the Discovery will end up expunged – or at least highly classified.
The ship itself has jumped over 900 years into the future, effectively
erasing itself from the timeline, raising intriguing questions about the
show itself and the topics it has touched upon in its first two seasons.
One way to read this development would be as a remake within the
show itself. This move into an even farther future, one that has never
been seen in any Star Trek television series or films, allows for the
show to both keep established characters and continue telling stories
about the effects of the events seen in the previous two seasons, while
also providing it with a ‘fresh start.’ Not only does this disentangle it
from established canon, it also impacts the worldbuilding of the show,
transforming the Discovery from one of the newest, most advanced ships
in Starfleet into what, barring any catastrophic future events, would be
a hopelessly outdated model. It further has the potential to shake up
the character constellations we have seen in DSC so far. At the same
time, it runs the risk of reading as a cop out, or even an admission

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392 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

of defeat after two years of criticism heaped on the show from some
parts of the fanbase as well as some media outlets. However, as DSC
effectively reanimated a whole franchise that is now also one officially
(CBS launched the Star Trek Global Franchise Group in May 2019), it
might also simply open up new ways for transmedia storytelling and
crossovers with all the other properties being launched, such as Star
Trek: Picard, which is slated to be released in early 2020.
There is yet another way of looking at the end of DSC’s season two
that is closely related to the one laid out above. The show, especially its
second season, draws on Star Trek’s potential for nostalgia inherent in
a decades-old franchise. This potential is not only evident in the ways
the first season probes questions of how the Federation comes to be the
organization seen in other Star Trek shows, but also in iconic characters,
such as Captain Pike (Anson Mount) being added in season two and
asserting that ‘[w]e are always in a fight for the future’ (2x07). The fact
that the Discovery leaves these characters behind in the past at the end
of ‘Such Sweet Sorrow, Part Two’ (2x14) can thus also be read as an
indication for the showrunners’ commitment to one of the innovations
DSC has dedicated itself to since season one: the focus on a character,
namely Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green), who is not only a
black woman, but also not the captain of a starship, and thus to move
beyond the established Star Trek canon and narrative tropes, character
constellations, and casting choices. It will be interesting to see how the
third season will deal with the vacuum that an empty captain’s chair
seems to form in a franchise that has always so centrally depended on
the figure of the (mostly male, mostly white) captain as its leader and
moral arbiter. Indeed, the archetypal white, male leader, Captain Pike,
is now again, seemingly, left behind in the past, while the more diverse
crew of the U.S.S. Discovery is going forward into the future, potentially
indicating a further move away from some of Star Trek’s established
conventions and a wish to explore less well-trodden paths.
Certainly, DSC’s and the larger franchise’s future remains wide open
at this point. While the parameters of this future are unclear at the
time of writing, the fact that there even is a future, due to the collective
efforts of the Discovery’s crew and their allies at the end of season two,
seems to indicate an inherently positive outlook in keeping with the
older Star Trek series. On the meta level, there seems to be a similar
optimism for the still expanding franchise and its ever-growing and
continually diversifying (and sometimes divided) fandom. Regardless of
what the future holds, after a 50-year long history, DSC still insists it
is one worth fighting for.
 Notes on Contributors

Ina Batzke is a post-doctoral researcher and lecturer in American

Studies at the University of Augsburg and the University of Münster.
Her most recent publication, Undocumented Migrants in the United States.
Life Narratives and Self-representations (Routledge, 2019), summarizes her
latest research interests in Life Writing and Critical Refugee Studies. In
her new project, she explores the intersections between reproduction,
biotechnology and feminism in U.S. American and Canadian novels,
films, and television series.

Sarah Böhlau studied German Literature and History at the

Otto-Friedrich-Universität in Bamberg and the National University of
Ireland in Galway. She joined the graduate program of the medieval
literature studies in Bamberg and recently finished her thesis titled:
‘Unterwegs ins Mittelalter – Zeitreisen in der deutschsprachigen
Jugendliteratur des 21. Jahrhunderts’ (‘Off to the Middle Ages – Time
Travel in German Young Adult Literature of the 21st Century’). Her
academic research focuses on medievalism in contemporary popular
culture, with a special interest for the unconventional storytelling devices
(like time travel) that science fiction and fantasy narratives offer aplenty.
Her love for Star Trek predates her education as a literary scholar by a
decade, but she keeps getting pleasantly surprised how deeply the two
areas are intertwined.

Amy C. Chambers is a senior lecturer in Film and Media Studies at

Manchester School of Art, Manchester Metropolitan University, UK. Her
research examines the intersection of science and entertainment media
with specific focus on women and science, and discourses surrounding
science and religion on screen. Amy’s scholarship also explores
post-classical Hollywood filmmaking; science fiction film/television
(1968–1977); women in speculative fiction; narratives of women’s science

393
394 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

expertise in the media; transmedia storytelling; and medicalized horror.

Twitter: @AmyCChambers/Website: https://amycchambers.com/.

Sharing his birthday with Leonard Nimoy, John Andreas Fuchs

seems to be meant for boldly exploring strange new worlds – both real
and fantastic. And that is what he does teaching EFL, Social Studies,
Religious Education, and Art at Oberschule im Park in Bremen. He
holds an MA (Magister Artium) in contemporary history, American
literature and didactics of history as well as both the Erstes and Zweites
Staatsexamen (Lehramt Gymnasium). He was Assistant Professor with
the Chair of School Pedagogy at Katholische Universität Eichstätt-
Ingolstadt (KU) where he taught courses on Educational Science, the
History of Education, and Religious Education. He also taught courses
on American History and American Literature both at KU and Ludwig-
Maximilians-Universität München (LMU). He is working on a doctoral
thesis on Catholicism and anti-Catholicism in American TV-series with
the American Institute at LMU (Professor Michael Hochgeschwender).
And, yes, he likes Star Trek.

Torsten Kathke received his doctorate in American Cultural History

from Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, Munich in 2013. He is the author
of Wires That Bind: Nation, Region and Technology in the American Southwest,
1854–1920 (transcript, 2017), a study of the effects improved communi-
cation had on power relations among local elites in Arizona and New
Mexico. His current research project analyzes the market for popular
non-fiction books in the United States and West Germany during the
1970s and 1980s. He is currently a lecturer at the Obama Institute for
Transnational American Studies of Johannes Gutenberg University in
Mainz, Germany and specializes in the history of the United States and
Germany during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, including the
history of the U.S. West, Media History, and the History of Popular
Culture.

Diana A. Mafe is Associate Professor of English, Black Studies,

International Studies, and Women’s and Gender Studies at Denison
University and the author of Where No Black Woman Has Gone Before –
Subversive Portrayals in Speculative Film and TV (University of Texas Press,
2018) and Mixed Race Stereotypes in South African and American Literature:
Coloring Outside the (Black and White) Lines (Palgrave Macmillan, 2013).

Lisa Meinecke is a doctoral candidate at the America-Institute of

Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität in Munich, Germany. Her dissertation
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS 395

project with the working title ‘Degrees of Freedom: Becoming-Person and

the Technicised Other in American Popular Culture’ analyzes popular
depictions of artificial intelligence, with special focus on the boundaries
between personhood and technology. Her research interests include the
History of Science and Technology, Popular Culture Studies, and the
Histories of Religion and Social Reform. Lisa also used to be a research
manager at Technical University Munich and has had the privilege to
work with the EU robotics project ECHORD++ and the Munich Center
for Technology in Society, before returning to the America-Institute in
2018. Her paper on Star Trek: Discovery was first presented at PCAACA
2019 and received the PCASFF Student Paper Award 2019.

Sabrina Mittermeier holds a doctorate in American Cultural History

from Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität in Munich, Germany, and is
currently a lecturer and post-doctoral researcher at the University of
Augsburg. She is the author of a forthcoming monograph under the
working title Middle Class Kingdoms – A Cultural History of Disneyland
1955–2016 (Intellect, 2020), as well as the co-editor of the Routledge
Handbook to Star Trek (2021), and the volume Here You Leave Today – Time
and Temporality in Theme Parks (Wehrhahn, 2017). She has also taught
and published on other diverse topics of American popular culture
and history, such as the intersection of video games and theme parks,
historical film, LGBT representation on American television, or musical
theater. Her post-doc projects deals with LGBT public history in the
United States and West Germany and are eagerly awaiting funding.
Twitter: @S_Mittermeier.

Kerstin-Anja Münderlein is a research assistant for English Literature

at the Otto-Friedrich-Universität Bamberg. After her MA in English and
American Studies in Bamberg, she pursued a PhD in English Literature
(degree awarded in March 2019). Her dissertation traces the relationship
of genre, reception, and frames with the help of Gothic parodies of
the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. She has published
on the poetry of the First World War and eighteenth century Gothic.
Currently, she is preparing her post-doc project on literary forms in
social media as compared to traditional forms of literature. Besides the
aforementioned, her research interest include Fan Studies, Elizabethan
and Jacobean Drama, and Nineteenth Century and Golden Age Crime
Fiction. Contact: [email protected].

Whit Frazier Peterson is a lecturer, research associate and PhD

candidate at the University of Stuttgart in Stuttgart, Germany, with
396 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

interests in African American Literature, Modernism, Surrealism,

Afrofuturism and Black Speculative Fiction. Although he now lives
with his wife and two daughters in Europe, somehow, surreally, he also
grew up in the Washington DC area, lived for 12 years in New York,
and has self-published two novels: the first about Zora Neale Hurston
and Langston Hughes, and the second set during the 2008 election cycle.
He is currently at work on a dissertation about literary anthologies and
canon formation, and is writing a historical novel set in the future.

Judith Rauscher is a lecturer and post-doctoral researcher in American

Studies at the University of Bamberg, where she received her PhD
with a dissertation on ‘Poetic Place-Making: Nature and Mobility
in Contemporary American Poetry’ in 2018. She holds an MA in
Comparative Literature from Dartmouth College (2010) and an MA
in English and American Studies from the University of Bamberg
(2012). Judith Rauscher has published articles on Canadian petro-poetry,
U.S. American multiethnic poetry, the environmental imaginaries of
poetry about air travel, and ecopoetics. Her current research project
focuses on late nineteenth- and early twentieth century speculative
fiction and is tentatively entitled ‘Revisions of the American Eve: Gender,
Community, and the Technoscientific Imagination in U.S. Popular
Culture (1860–1930).’

Michael G. Robinson is a professor of communication studies at the

University of Lynchburg. Mike received his PhD in American Culture
Studies from Bowling Green State University. His scholarly interests
include Audience Research, Genre Studies, Media Criticism, Media
History, Superheroes and, of course, Science Fiction. He enjoys discussing
popular culture topics and has appeared in local and national media
broadcasts. He published an article about Doctor Who for Time Travel
Television (2015). A fan in utero thanks to his mother’s science fiction
television interests, Mike is thrilled to be joining a collection of articles
about Star Trek.

Henrik Schillinger is a researcher at the Institute of Political Science

at the University of Duisburg-Essen. His publications and research
interests include Norm Contestation in International Relations, the
Politics of Popular Culture, and Post-structuralist Theories. Email:
[email protected].

Arne Sönnichsen is a researcher at the chair of International Relations

and Development Policy at University of Duisburg-Essen. His publications
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS 397

and research interests encompass Outer Space Governance, Science and

Technology Studies and the Politics of Popular Culture. Email: arne.
[email protected].

Mareike Spychala is a PhD candidate, research assistant, and lecturer

at the University of Bamberg’s American Studies department. Her PhD
project focuses on autobiographies by female veterans of the Iraq War
and especially on the varied intersections of gender and imperialism in
these narratives. She has taught on a variety of topics, among others
on American War Literature, the Western in German and American
Culture, and African American and Afro German Literature and Culture
In 2018/19, she co-edited the conference proceedings for an interna-
tional conference on the topic War and Trauma in Past and Present (to be
published with Wissenschaftsverlag Trier) that she co-organized at the
University of Bamberg in March 2018 in addition to the present volume.
She earned her BA from the University of Salzburg and her European
joint master’s degree from the University of Bamberg and the Université
Paris Diderot – Paris 7.

Will Tattersdill is Senior Lecturer in Popular Literature at the University

of Birmingham, UK. His Science, Fiction, and the Fin-de-Siècle Periodical Press
(Cambridge University Press) was published in 2016; he is currently
working on an examination of dinosaurs in popular culture.

Jennifer Volkmer is a PhD student at Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität

(LMU) Munich’s Amerika Institut. Her thesis focuses on the depiction
of motorcyclists in US-American Movies and Television from 1953 to
2017, especially on the therein constructed masculinities. She has given
several talks, about topics such as Death of Stalin (2018) and the Continued
Relevance of Historical Film; Motorcycle Riding and the Modern-day
Pilgrimage; US Politics and Television Audiences; and Thelma and Louise
(1991) revisited in the MeToo context. She earned her BA in Political
Science, as well as her MA in American History, Society and Culture
from LMU Munich.

Andrea Whitacre holds a doctorate in Medieval Literature from

Indiana University, where she teaches courses on Medievalism, Science
Fiction, and Fantasy. In addition to articles on medieval writers Gerald
of Wales and Marie de France, she has previously published on gender
in the Star Trek reboot films in The Kelvin Timeline of Star Trek: Essays
on J.J. Abrams’ Final Frontier. Her current project, titled ‘Change and
Identity: The Medieval Werewolf and the Layered Body,’ examines the
398 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

literary werewolf figure and conceptions of the transforming body in

the high to late Middle Ages.

Si Sophie Pages Whybrew is a PhD candidate at the University of Graz

in Austria and is employed as a research associate at the University of
Graz and the University of Saarbrücken. Si is working on a dissertation
project entitled ‘Transitioning into the Future? Trans Potentialities in
North American Science Fiction from 1993 to 2018.’ Si has published
articles on Djuna Barnes’ Nightwood, the representation of intersexuality
in American medical dramas, and on recognition and affects of trans
belonging in contemporary trans authored science fiction.
 Acknowledgments

Our thanks as editors, first and foremost, go to our authors, who

delivered insightful, well-researched, often funny analyses on Discovery,
but also Star Trek more broadly. We could not be prouder to bring
together so many different approaches and analytical viewpoints for
this collection. We also owe a debt of gratitude to two amazing women
and science fiction scholars: Diana A. Mafe, whose perspective in her
research and in the interview included in this collection has been more
than inspiring, and Sherryl Vint, who so kindly agreed to write a preface
long before we even had a final line-up, and whose support has also
led us to secure publication with Liverpool University Press. We would
also like to thank Liverpool University Press, specifically our editors,
Jenny Howard, and later Christabel Scaife, who helped us develop this
project and bring it over the finish line. And last, but not least, our
amazing cover artist, Steffi Hochriegl for visualizing both Discovery and
this collection so beautifully.

Mareike would like to thank her co-editor for together dreaming up

and then realizing this project. Further thanks are due for her decision
to run with me and co-write a previously unplanned article about
Culber, Stamets, and LGBTQ representation when I went: ‘Culber and
Stamets are like Bones and McCoy, they’re making subtext, text! In
this paper I will.…’ Working on this collection, traveling together, and
getting up to all other kinds of nerdy shenanigans with you has been
an amazing experience – thank you! I would also like to thank my
family for always supporting me, even if they do not quite understand
my love for all things SFF. Further thanks are due to my supervisor
at the English and American Studies Institute, Professor Dr. Christine
Gerhardt, for her words of support and to my colleagues, Dr. Judith
Rauscher and Dr. Kerstin-Anja Münderlein, for the writing sessions,
lending open ears, and for always giving the best advice. Thank you,

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400 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

too, to the U.S.S. Spaceboos Discord for all the fanworks, speculation,
and yelling. And last, but certainly not least, I owe a debt of gratitude
to the writers and cast of Discovery. I did not know how much I needed
this show until it had made its way onto my screen. Special thanks go
to Sonequa Martin-Green for her incomparable, inspiring performance
as Michael Burnham, Mary Chieffo (nothing but respect for my High
Chancellor!) for her incredible kindness and enthusiasm, and Anthony
Rapp and Wilson Cruz who, every day, are torchbearers lighting the
way towards a better future. Your interest in and excitement about this
book has meant the world to me.

Sabrina would like to thank her co-editor Mareike for embarking on

this project with her, boldly nerding – who could have known where
it would lead us and the doors it would open? I will forever be grateful
to you for this and your friendship, that in many ways was built on
both this show and this book. I would also like to thank my co-author
Jenny Volkmer who has since become a partner in crime much beyond
our shared love for Lorca! Lorca! and his tribble – it truly is the right
timeline. Thanks are also due to my parents, for supporting me on this
journey, and specifically my dad, who sat me down in front of Voyager
when I was about six years old and made me a Trekkie for life. My
never-ending gratitude also goes out to the whole cast of Discovery who,
on multiple occasions, have shared their excitement and interest in this
book, and whose support has given me life beyond just this project.
Specifically mentioned here should be my favorite Klingons in the galaxy,
the incomparable Mary Chieffo, Kenneth ‘Prime Lorca’ Mitchell and
Shazad Latif; the first two gay men to boldly go where no gay man had
gone before, Anthony Rapp and Wilson Cruz; Rekha Sharma, whose
light shines so brightly always; and Jason Isaacs, who will forever be a
true captain to me. Hello.
 Index
Index

9/11 8, 12, 15, 52, 106, 123, 204, canon 2–10, 23, 28–29, 32, 42,
225, 254, 298 53–56, 62, 76, 97, 106, 149,
166–69, 173–82, 193–94, 202,
actorvism 14, 346–48 217, 287, 313, 339–40, 344–47,
Afrofuturism 13, 201–19 374, 391–92
afronaut 213 captaincy 6–7, 22, 25–31, 35, 47,
American diplomacy see diplomacy 53–55, 70, 114, 118–21, 181,
anti-hero 310 192–94, 233, 253, 290–93,
archetype 13, 93, 312–17, 323 307–18, 323, 381–84
CBS 30, 53, 61–62, 85–89, 92,
Berg, Gretchen J. 12, 88, 90 105, 243, 251, 313, 347, 392
Berman, Rick 74, 90, 334–38 CBS All Access 28, 53, 86–87, 105,
binary 12, 170, 226, 269, 333–35, 113, 157
352–57, 376, 384, 387 Chieffo, Mary 67, 121, 194, 227,
Black Mirror 10, 81, 83, 93–96 255, 287, 298, 311, 321, 361,
border crossing 13, 243–61, 376 400
Borg, the 46–47, 52, 74–75, 170, cisnormativity 336, 353–57
290, 374, 385–88 Cold War 3, 10–11, 41–59, 210,
Braga, Brannon 92, 112, 128, 338 224–25, 244, 261, 332, 386–87
Brook, Jayne 25, 54, 72, 114, 211, colonialism 48, 192, 223, 245,
253, 308 248, 256, 315, 352–53, 367
Brooks, Avery 6, 47, 76, 88, 309 Control 12, 64, 274, 288, 300–03,
Burnham, Gabrielle 138, 267, 274, 323
293, 300 Cornwell, Katrina 8, 25, 27, 29,
Burnham, Michael 1–2, 6, 8, 10, 54, 72, 114–15, 120–21, 177–80,
13, 21–36, 43, 53–54, 62, 72, 203, 211–12, 253–55, 258, 260,
88–89, 97, 113–21, 131–40, 295, 308–09, 313, 317–19
146, 154, 167, 170–72, 177–80, Cruz, Wilson 12, 22, 33, 44, 67,
191–98, 202–06, 210, 226–35, 115, 133, 160, 171, 213, 273,
244, 251–61, 267–81, 287–303, 287, 322, 341–42, 346–48, 362,
310–23, 342, 345, 358–60, 379, 400
378–92, 400 Culber, Hugh 12, 22, 31–33, 36,
‘Bury Your Gays’ 32, 341, 347 44, 66, 75, 115, 117, 133–39,
401
402 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

160, 171, 176, 213, 273–74, 177–78, 180, 197–98, 202–10,

281, 287–88, 322, 332, 340–47, 218, 224–37, 243–60, 268, 274,
362–67, 379–84, 399 293–98, 303, 315, 319–20, 323,
cyborg 52, 374–75, 387–88 333, 336–37, 343, 347, 367, 376,
379–87, 391–92
diplomacy 5, 13, 41, 221–37, 290, Federation–Klingon War 33, 118,
386 166, 170, 249, 255, 274, 294,
mytho-diplomacy 225, 229–32 384
U.S. exceptionalism 42, 50, 227, femininity 13, 27, 251, 269, 275,
229–31 288–92, 300, 303
diversity 2, 6, 11–14, 26–27, 34, feminism 13, 27, 194–95, 218,
37, 41, 44, 46, 53, 56, 83–84, 243–63, 267, 278, 289–90, 294,
88, 96, 165–66, 203–07, 213, 297–99, 353, 359, 364–67, 374
217, 227, 243, 268, 273, 280, imperial feminism 243–63
332, 339, 341, 348 foreign policy 204, 222–37
dystopia 6, 8–9, 23, 36, 54, 107, Frain, James 43, 89, 95, 120, 134,
112, 118, 209 194, 204, 254, 268, 273, 300
Frakes, Jonathan 72, 90, 98, 129,
Emperor Georgiou see Georgiou, 334–36, 355–57
Philippa franchise 2–15, 21–37, 42, 52,
empire see imperialism 55–56, 61–65, 72, 76, 81–98,
empowerment 193, 243–46 117, 127, 147–48, 152, 158,
Enlightenment 42, 50–51, 213 165–67, 182, 191, 203, 207,
episodic structure 148, 158 213, 217, 222–23, 237, 244–47,
see also seriality 259, 267–69, 273, 276, 280–81,
estrangement 221–38 287–97, 301–03, 307, 312–14,
Eurocentrism 248, 352–53, 366 331–57, 361, 374–76, 383–92
exploration 2, 8, 29, 31, 36, 41, frontier 41–43, 48–52, 65, 69–71,
52, 64, 70, 81–83, 96, 204, 221, 221–23, 229, 231, 332
226, 233, 244, 302–03 Fuller, Bryan 53, 87–89, 205, 217,
346, 359
fans 1, 5–8, 14–15, 24, 30, 33–34,
53–56, 61–63, 75, 82–87, 93–96, gender 3, 5, 11–14, 31, 45, 50,
148, 156–58, 166–73, 182, 196, 175, 191, 197, 244–45, 248,
245, 267, 274, 312–13, 331–48, 258, 267–81, 289, 291–98, 309,
355, 358 321–22, 333–35, 339, 347–48,
fanbase 6, 152, 165–66, 290, 352–68, 387–88
313, 392 Georgiou, Philippa 1–2, 9, 21–22,
fanfiction 156, 165–85, 331, 25–27, 36, 43, 55, 64, 72–73,
339–40 76, 89, 106, 113, 116–23, 158,
fanon 10, 166, 169, 175, 345, 177, 194–95, 198, 206, 210–11,
347 226–29, 233, 246–61, 267–68,
slash 175–76, 312, 331, 340, 347 287, 292, 297–301, 308, 311,
Federation 1–5, 8, 24–26, 30, 315–17, 342–47, 384
33–36, 42–48, 52–54, 83, 93, Gerrold, David 12, 71, 333–34,
97, 108–11, 116–22, 158, 170, 338–40
 INDEX 403

Grayson, Amanda 62, 89, 194, 295–300, 303, 307, 309, 311–12,
268, 300 315, 319–23, 361–65, 377–83,
Groundhog Day episode 127–40, 400
145–47 Klingon Empire 5, 21, 43, 251,
see also time loop 257–59, 287, 296, 361, 367
Kol, General 258, 296, 307, 361
Harberts, Aaron 12, 88–90, Kol-Sha 297
346–48 Kurtzman, Alex 12, 61, 89, 97,
heteronormativity 32, 246–47, 294
276, 335–37, 345
homonormativity 345 Landry, Ellen 29–30, 211, 267,
homophobia 7, 338 278–79, 311, 317, 378
homosexuality 31, 67, 307, 331, Latif, Shazad 3, 12, 116, 131, 158,
334–35, 343–45 170, 194, 213, 234, 276, 291,
humanism see liberal humanism 307, 318–22, 361, 400
hybridity 234, 295–97, 311, 319, LGBTQ 7, 12, 32, 171, 274, 281,
322, 367, 374, 387–88 331–32, 340–47, 358, 399
liberal humanism 3, 9, 11–13,
imperialism 2, 13, 50, 225, 26–29, 34–36, 83, 202–04, 210,
243–61, 298–99, 303, 315, 352, 217–18, 313, 347, 376, 384–87
386 Lorca, Gabriel 2, 7, 13, 25–31, 43,
Isaacs, Jason 2, 7, 25, 30, 43, 54, 47, 54–56, 61, 67, 75, 113–23,
61, 113, 131, 158, 167, 193, 202, 127, 131–39, 158, 160, 167, 172,
233, 250, 268, 287, 307–17, 180–81, 193, 202–03, 206–13,
344, 377, 400 218, 233, 250, 258, 260–61,
268–71, 279, 287, 292, 307–23,
Janeway, Kathryn 6, 88, 244, 269, 344, 377, 380–84, 400
288, 290–91, 312–15, 338, 383 L’Rell 67, 69, 121, 170, 179,
Jones, Doug 9, 25, 54, 120, 228, 194–98, 227, 234–35, 255,
252, 279, 302, 307–09, 380 258–59, 287, 294–303, 311, 315,
319–23, 361–63, 367
Kelley, DeForest 63, 332
Kelvin timeline 85, 147, 280, 294, marginalization 23, 30, 35–36, 56,
339, 346 169, 193, 222, 236, 260, 270,
Kirk, James T. 5, 22–31, 44–46, 276, 280, 296, 376, 385
62–70, 73, 85, 97, 106–09, Martin-Green, Sonequa 1, 6, 21,
246, 261, 290–92, 312–17, 331, 34, 43, 53, 62, 88, 113, 132,
344–45 146, 167, 191, 202, 205, 226,
Kirshner, Mia 62, 89, 194, 268, 251, 256, 267, 276, 287, 310,
300 313–14, 321, 345, 359, 378, 392,
Klingon 1–2, 6, 8, 12, 21, 33, 43, 400
46, 48, 54, 56, 67, 70–71, 74, masculinity 14, 43, 251, 260, 289,
113, 116, 120–22, 137–39, 166, 296, 307–23, 388
170, 176–79, 194, 197–98, 204, hegemonic masculinity 309–11
221, 226–37, 243, 246, 251–59, toxic masculinity 94, 317–18
268–69, 274, 287, 290–93, militarism 22, 29, 62, 72, 223,
404 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

232, 243, 247, 268, 308, 310–11, Notaro, Tig 12, 33, 75, 274, 287,
317, 323, 384 343
military 2, 22, 23, 25, 29, 30, 35, Number One 1, 9
47–50, 61–63, 70, 72, 120, 254,
268–69, 290, 307–11, 315–18, orientalist 11, 44, 247, 258
322, 373, 384, 387 Other 12–14, 170, 218, 228, 256,
Mirror Universe 2, 6–10, 21–36, 375, 377, 378
54–55, 75, 105–23, 166, 195, Othering 256–58
202, 206–07, 210–12, 216–18,
232–34, 243–61, 272, 293, 311, Paramount 84–85, 337
314–17, 341–47, 363–65, 377, patriarchy 192, 297
382, 387, 391 patriarchal 244, 292, 295–99,
misogyny 7, 44, 249, 297–99 365
Mitchell, Kenneth 258, 296–97, patriarchal power structures
307, 361, 400 287, 303
Moore, Ronald D. 3, 128, 150, 337 Peck, Ethan 6, 61, 89, 97, 193,
mother 62, 119, 138, 155, 194, 204, 268, 287
209, 249, 251, 269, 272–76, 290, Periodicals 10, 145, 151, 153
293, 295, 299–305 periodical publishing 148
motherhood see mother periodical rhythm 152, 159
Mount, Anson 9, 27, 54, 61, 97, Pike, Christopher 9–10, 27–30,
287, 307, 314, 392 54–55, 61–62, 97, 287, 302,
Mudd, Harry 65, 130–40, 146, 382 307–08, 312–14, 317, 323, 392
mycelial network 14, 25, 33, 117, posthuman 27, 29, 375, 384–85
145, 154, 216, 271, 278–79, 293, post-network era 3, 10, 122, 308
315, 342, 373–83, 388 see also post-network series
mycelium see mycelial network see also post-network television
myth see mythology post-network series 105–07, 117,
frontier myth see frontier 123
mytho diplomacy see diplomacy post-network television 307
mythology 1, 49, 56, 81–84, 96, post-racial 44, 203, 215
98, 113, 127, 201, 215, 223, power structure 29, 34, 287, 291,
225, 230–32, 236, 275, 280, 292 300
see also patriarchal power
nationalism 43, 224, 248–49 structures
ethnic nationalism 244, 247, prequel 5, 7, 24, 29, 48, 159
250 prime directive 1, 46, 109, 226
Netflix 28, 53, 86, 128, 149, 151, Prime Universe 25, 27, 30, 32, 75,
153, 157, 358 107–13, 116–23
Nimoy, Leonard 1, 25, 46, 50, 62, progress 202, 213, 215, 218
65, 89, 109, 332 PTSD 74, 114, 138, 179, 212, 309,
normalization 191–98, 235–37, 319, 342, 362–64
252, 268, 270–73, 280–81, 313,
315, 341, 345 queer
nostalgia 9–10, 47, 81, 96, 375, queer characters 338, 343, 346,
392 347
 INDEX 405

queer representation 31, 337, 313–14, 363, 367, 380–81,

347–48 383–84
queer subtext 337–39, 345 science fiction 8, 10, 12–13, 33,
queerbaiting 337 51–52, 63, 65, 70–71, 81, 94,
queerness 31–32, 246, 274, 114, 138, 148, 150–51, 154,
336–38 202, 222, 247, 269–70, 272–73,
275–76, 280–81, 288–91, 294,
race 3, 5, 11, 13, 26, 45, 50, 192, 303, 307, 344–45, 353, 364, 387
197, 201–02, 205, 213, 215, black women in science fiction
243–44, 248, 256–58, 269–72, 269–70, 272–73, 276
276, 280–81, 339, 378, 387 science fiction television 84, 96,
see also cotton-gin effect 153, 196, 289, 300–01, 303
racism 43–44, 50–51, 192, 247, Section 31 97, 122, 251, 254, 260,
249, 257, 261, 270 274, 288, 297, 319–20, 336
racialization 3, 257 seriality 105–06, 110, 117, 148,
rape 67, 69, 73, 214, 320–22, 338, 150, 153, 157–58
362, 365 extended seriality 105–06
Rapp, Anthony 12, 22, 44, 61, serial 81, 105–07, 113, 117, 123,
115, 130, 145, 171, 268, 287, 148–60, 281
307–08, 332, 341, 346, 373, Victorian serial 149
400 series
Red Angel 3, 5, 97, 138, 274, difference from serial 105
300–01 see also television series
Reno, Jett 12, 33, 274–75, 287, sexual assault
303, 343 see also rape
representation 13–14, 119, 175–76, sexuality 3, 31–32, 75, 175,
179, 217, 224, 256, 267, 269–73, 195–96, 198, 247, 280–81, 335,
276–77, 280–81, 288, 290–91, 341–46, 353, 358
294, 302, 355–56, 367, 386 see also homosexuality
of diplomacy 227–28, 230–31, sexualization 23, 195–96, 247,
234–37 337
see also queer representation Sharma, Rekha 29–30, 211, 267,
retcon 81, 85, 159, 339 311, 378, 400
rhizome 14, 374, 379–80, 383, Shatner, William 24, 46, 62–63,
386, 388 95, 108, 246, 312, 332
Roddenberry, Gene 3, 7, 9, 26–27, Sisko, Benjamin 6, 47, 53, 55, 76,
31, 34, 41, 47–48, 50, 65–68, 88, 110, 119, 309, 312
70, 71–72, 74–75, 83–84, 87, 90, Social Justice Warrior 53, 358–59
92, 96, 109, 157, 165, 227, 244, Sohn, Sonja 138, 267, 293
313, 331–35, 339–40, 343, 376 soldier 22, 122, 204, 228, 311,
Romijn, Rebecca 9 320–22
species reassignment protocol
Sarek 43, 89, 134, 194, 204, 254, 364–65
268, 273, 302 Spock 1, 5–6, 9, 25, 28, 43, 46,
Saru 9, 25, 27–29, 54, 120–21, 50, 52, 61–62, 64–65, 68–69,
181, 228, 252, 279, 302, 307, 73, 89, 97, 108–09, 155, 193–94,
406 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

204, 268, 274, 287, 293–94, 111–12, 128, 130, 145, 147,
300, 302, 331, 344–46 152, 154, 159, 173, 217, 245,
spore drive 22, 33, 67, 116, 132, 267, 288–89, 294, 298, 312,
134–35, 138, 154, 166, 171, 331, 333–34, 354–56, 374,
206, 216, 233, 251, 268–69, 376, 384–85, 386–88
271, 273, 276–78, 280, 309, Star Trek: The Original Series 2, 5,
315, 344, 373–75, 377–83, 388 23, 43, 105, 107–10, 111–13,
Stamets, Paul 12, 14, 22, 25, 29, 122, 147, 156, 165, 170, 244,
32–33, 44, 61, 66–67, 75, 115, 267–68, 288, 307, 312, 332,
117, 130–40, 145–47, 150, 391
171–72, 176, 216, 268, 273–76, Star Trek: Picard 10, 392
279, 281, 287, 292–93, 302, Star Trek: Voyager 2, 6, 9, 11, 27,
307–10, 312, 332, 340–47, 362, 52–53, 67, 72, 74, 83–85, 88,
373, 375, 377, 379–84, 388, 399 112, 145, 244, 267, 269, 274,
Star Trek films 288–90, 295, 312, 315, 331,
Star Trek 5, 31, 62, 85, 280, 294 336–38, 383, 400
Star Trek: Beyond 5, 12, 31–32, Starfleet 6–8, 2–3, 25–27, 29,
167, 229, 339–40 34–36, 43, 46, 48, 54–55, 61,
Star Trek: The Final Frontier 52 64, 70–74, 89–90, 108, 111,
Star Trek: First Contact 74, 113–16, 118, 12–13, 133, 140,
110–11, 267, 336 146, 148, 170, 172, 174, 180–81,
Star Trek: Into Darkness 5, 61 204, 208, 211, 213, 216–17,
Star Trek: Nemesis 73, 357 226, 228, 233, 235, 244, 251,
Star Trek: The Search for Spock 254, 258–60, 268–69, 271,
46, 52 279, 290–93, 295–98, 307–14,
Star Trek: The Undiscovered 317–19, 323, 335, 338, 341, 342,
Country 52, 71, 73 359, 364–65, 373, 377, 380,
Star Trek: The Voyage Home 52 383, 385–86, 391
Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan 6, Starfleet captain
46, 52, 63, 70, 165, 333 see also captain
Star Trek series stereotype 168, 194, 198, 247, 269,
Star Trek: The Animated Series 275, 277, 301, 320, 333, 342,
61–62 347, 354
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine 2, storytelling 3, 5, 7, 13, 51, 53, 64,
6, 9, 29, 42, 47, 52–53, 55, 81, 93, 127–28, 150, 152–53,
72, 83–84, 88, 91, 95, 107, 157, 159, 336, 378, 391–92
109–10, 112, 119, 122, 150, serialized storytelling 10, 153
245, 267, 300, 309, 311, 331, Straal, Justin 373, 377–79
355 streaming 14, 55
Star Trek: Enterprise 5, 9, 24, 26, streaming service 10, 53, 85–87,
52, 72, 73, 84–85, 92, 107, 97, 105, 153, 157
110–12, 122, 147, 149, 246, strong female character 68, 167,
312, 331 195–96, 255
Star Trek: The Next Generation 9, subtext 14, 134, 256, 317, 331–32,
11, 23, 26–27, 31, 41, 52, 63, 334, 337–39, 344–45, 399
66, 70–74, 83, 85, 92, 105, Sullivan, Ted 5, 323
 INDEX 407

tardigrade 14, 67, 131, 171, 181, transphobia 335, 364–66

216, 277–80, 309, 378–84, Transsexual Empire 361, 365
388 trauma see also PTSD
television 3, 6, 10–12, 14, 22, traumatic memory 138
32–33, 44, 50–55, 63, 66, 69, Trekker 86, 92, 168
71, 74, 82, 85–86, 89, 92–93, Trekkie 30, 145, 156, 168, 312,
96, 107, 128–29, 145, 165, 168, 340, 356, 400
193, 202–03, 206–07, 213, 217, trope 6, 12–14, 23–24, 41, 95,
236, 272, 287, 290, 300–01, 127–30, 145, 152, 202, 205,
303, 307–08, 310, 320–21, 207–09, 215, 231, 233, 236,
332–36, 338–39, 343, 346, 348, 288–89, 293, 307, 309, 311,
386, 391 313–17, 319, 321, 336, 347, 355,
prestige television 150 357, 364, 391–92
television series 24, 48, 81, 84, see also ‘Bury Your Gays’;
105–06, 112, 147, 154, 156, depraved bisexual; magical
202, 280–81, 289, 386, negro
391 Tyler, Ash 3, 12–13, 116, 121–22,
Terran Empire 7, 23–24, 108, 111, 131–33, 135–40, 158, 170, 172,
116, 118–19, 170, 206, 210, 216, 177–80, 195–96, 198, 213,
232–33, 243, 245, 247, 249–51, 234–35, 276, 291, 293, 296–97,
256–59, 312, 314 299–300, 307–08, 310–11, 315,
Terran Emperor see also Emperor 318–23, 361–67
Georgiou
The Orville 9–10, 81, 83, 91–93, United Federation of Planets 5, 36,
96–97, 147 42, 46, 93, 108, 243, 268, 293,
Tilly, Sylvia 27, 33, 67, 72, 116–17, 333
121, 132–34, 172, 179, 194–95, U.S. exceptionalism 224, 230–31
253, 258–60, 273–75, 280, 287, exceptionalist foreign policy
291–94, 303, 317, 322, 360–61 225
time crystal 137, 139–40, 303 U.S.S. Buran 114, 311
time loop 10, 127–33, 136–40 “U.S.S. Callister” (tv episode) 10,
computer game as narrative 81, 83, 93–95
influence 129–30, 137 U.S.S. Discovery 6, 22, 27, 113,
paradox of 129–30 116, 120, 170, 172, 204, 206,
recursive time loop 127 232–33, 243, 251, 254, 268,
(time) looper 127–31, 134, 271, 274, 278, 292, 302, 323,
139–40 341, 360, 362, 373, 391–92
time travel 127–29, 138 U.S.S. Enterprise 6, 9–10, 27–28,
as storytelling device 127–28 47–48, 61–62, 64–65, 68,
toxic masculinity 94, 307–08, 317, 70–74, 81, 89, 97, 109, 268,
323 302, 312–14, 316, 323, 332, 336,
trans potentiality 351–53, 358, 338, 355, 385–86, 391
360–61, 366 U.S.S. Shenzhou 27, 113, 118, 120,
transgender 14, 333, 348, 351–61, 204, 205, 268, 289, 296, 300,
364, 367 360–62
transhumanism 14, 383 U.S.S. Voyager 244
408 FIGHTING FOR THE FUTURE

utopia 2–3, 5, 7–9, 11, 21–23, 35, 197, 231–33, 235, 243, 249,
41–42, 90, 108, 111–12, 118, 251, 253–55, 257, 259, 268,
122, 165–66, 171, 175, 181, 227, 274, 294–95, 311–12, 323,
231, 235, 270, 331, 333, 339, 361, 363, 373, 377, 383–84
345, 366, 376 war on terror 8, 106, 225
Western (film) 43, 48, 51, 65
Viacom 85, 338 white supremacy 244, 258–59,
Vulcan 2, 27, 43–44, 62, 68, 73, 270, 315, 367
88, 110, 115–16, 165, 171, 177, whiteness 2, 41, 202, 215, 217,
194–95, 204, 213, 221, 226, 256, 259, 280
228, 232, 249, 254–57, 259, Wilson, Rainn 130, 146, 382
260, 268, 273, 275–76, 279, Wiseman, Mary 27, 72, 121,
292, 295, 302, 308, 338, 360, 132, 172, 194, 253, 273, 287,
384, 386 360
women scientists 13, 269, 271–73,
war 2, 6, 8, 11, 25, 36, 49–50, 275–77, 280–81
52–54, 56, 61, 64, 69, 75, 91, worldbuilding 106, 109, 112, 116,
108, 111, 170, 172, 175, 177, 123, 148, 158, 391
179–80, 182, 211, 307–09
see also Cold War Yeoh, Michelle 1–2, 9, 21, 43, 64,
Klingon and Federation war 5, 89, 116, 158, 194, 206, 226,
12, 33, 43, 48, 55, 115, 118, 246, 260, 267, 287, 308, 342,
120–22, 166, 170–71, 181, 384