torsdag 31 mars 2011

Thoughts on Spock

From an early point in my Star Trek obsession, I identified with Spock. Exactly why and how is a topic best treated as an underlying theme in this blog, because whenever I try to address the subject as the main theme of a single text, it goes out of hand. This influence is such a vast one that it seems to have bearing on every single aspect of my life, and an analysis of my identification with Spock would in effect end up as an exhaustive autobiography.

This identification was, and is, important to my love for Star Trek. There are many other things I love about TOS: what it reveals about its own time, the visual appearance, the drama, the humour both intended and unintended, Captain Kirk. I don't think the show would have sparked so much thought and self-reflection in me without Spock, though.

With identification, or any other kind of strong feelings for a character, comes projection. The way I see everything Spock says or does depends on my own experiences and reactions. This obviously means that I'll probably dislike the majority of other people who identify with Spock, because they are different people with different personalities and histories and understand the character in different ways.

In keeping with this, the person who annoyed me the most in the Star Trek club I joined, and promptly left, a couple of years ago was a man who identified with Spock. Sure, he was tall with an impassive, unsmiling face and prided himself on not being emotional, but from my point of view, the similarities ended there. I smile a lot and believe in being friendly, and I don't think I'm an obvious Spock to most people I meet. I don't want to be, either. What I connect with in the character is his general mentality and his experience of being different, not fitting in anywhere. It annoys me when Spock is seen or represented as being all about an impassive, unsmiling face and pointing out when things aren't "logical", and it infuriates me when fans of his do that to make other people seem stupid.

This man - I'm going to call him Al, because I've completely forgotten his name - committed that unforgivable sin, in my book of Spock identification, of assuming that everything he himself said and did was "logical", while whatever other people said and did that bothered him or he didn't agree with was "illogical". Now, logic is actually a formal science, a branch of mathematics, and the term is used quite loosely in Star Trek, since neither the script writers nor the actors were mathematicians. In many cases, Mr Spock's "logic" has nothing to do with actual logic - it's actually rational thought, or common sense, or practical-mindedness - and logic doesn't apply to most aspects of human daily life. When it comes to functioning in that context, being logical, in the true sense of the word, equals being dumb, in the same way that a computer is dumb.

Al worked as a conductor on the local commuter trains, probably not a very stimulating job, or one that boosts your self-confidence, and he liked to point out how stupid (or, in his words, "illogical") the passengers were. For example, he could loom silently over some passenger in his uniform for an arbitrarily long time before she realised that she wanted to see her ticket. Proof of human stupidity, in his opinion, that he had to ask to see people’s tickets. Here’s one of the basic traits of logic, though: it’s objective, not based on your knowledge, what goes on in your head and the view from where you happen to be. Useful logic must be based on the right assumptions, in this case the assumption that the passengers on a train are reading, listening to music, talking, or lost in thought. Expecting every single one of them to be constantly vigilant and prepared for the conductor’s round isn’t logical, it’s wishful thinking. If this behaviour is repeated, it also signifies a lack of ability to learn from experience and adapt to a recurring situation. Those aren't obvious Spock traits, if you ask me.

I’m not a natural people person, and that’s probably the common denominator for all of us self-proclaimed Spockoids. Instead of providing me with an alibi for interacting with other people as little as possible, though, the character inspires me to make an effort. Addressing somebody or making a phone call, especially to a stranger, is associated with a mental threshold, it takes some effort. However, Spock would never hesitate to approach somebody because he felt lazy (or awkward, or nervous, or what the case might be); if something needs to be communicated, Spock communicates it, regardless of personal feelings, and he makes sure the receiving party understands what he's saying. Anything else would be - irrational, impractical, and opposed to common sense.

2 kommentarer:

  1. Hm... it occurs to me that Spock demonstrates a rather Buddhist kind of acceptance of reality. Unlike Al, he doesn't waste energy fretting about how stupid/irrational humans are--that in itself would be "illogical"-- he accepts that they are emotional beings and finds ways to work with that reality.
    (At least usually. Sometimes he shows frustration.)

    It is this acceptance that makes his friendship with Kirk possible--and so intriguing and attractive to me. And Kirk accepts Spock as he is too.
    I've spent a lot of time being frustrated with other people and founnd my life got a whole lot easier when I tried that approach:
    accepting that this is the way so-and-so is, and not how I wish s/he would be for my convenience.
    And it works with myself too--instead of wishing I were different (not afraid to make phone calls to strangers, for instance), just accepting that I am [afraid of the phone] and trying to find some gentle way to work with that reality.

    Thanks for this thoughtful post.

    SvaraRadera
  2. YES. Exactly.

    This kind of acceptance (which is not the same as shrugging your shoulders at every problem in the world) is so important. Myself, I'd never been aware of my constant refusal to accept all the daily little setbacks, and what this meant to my general well-bring, before I started going to my Zen group - I suppose that in the West, we're brought up into a completely different way of looking at life. I do hope this realisation is making its way out of the decidedly Buddhist context and into the realm of simple truths.

    I can't resist adding that the Pali word "dukkha", the central word in the teachings of the Buddha that usually gets translated as "suffering", apparently has its etymological roots in a word describing the annoying creaking of a wheel that doesn't quite fit on its axle. I love that. For many years, I rejected Buddhism because of the gloomy proclamation that everything is suffering, but when you learn that "suffering" actually refers to things generally not being quite what you'd like them to be, it all makes beautiful, gloom-free sense.

    SvaraRadera