Just where have we been warping to?
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Star Trek: The Accidental Arcs
by William S. Kowinski
Star Trek as a saga is largely improvised. The original series concentrated on making the elements of the Star Trek universe consistent, to produce plausibility. Eventually stories began to build on characters and events of past stories. One Klingon encounter led to another.
Then came the accidental arc of “the trilogy”—the second, third and fourth Star Trek feature films. They weren’t planned as a continuous story, occurring sequentially in time. If Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan had not been such a creative and commercial success, it may well have been the last of Star Trek.
Star Trek: The Next Generation began on television with certain commitments and hopes, and before it began Gene Roddenberry, other producers and writers had well over a decade of musing on what the original series had established and what was left within that to explore---which, as it turned out, was a lot.
In the formal sense of “story arc” in episodic TV—a continuous story over several or many episodes—TNG didn’t go much past the two-parter (although it could be argued that the return to earth of the Enterprise-D in “Family” was the third episode in the “Best of Both Worlds” confrontation with the Borg arc.) It wasn’t until TNG has solidified Star Trek’s prominence at Paramount that longer arcs were explored in “Deep Space Nine” and “Voyager.” “Enterprise” had something akin to a season-long arc and then in the first half of its last season produced several “mini-arcs” of three episodes, reminiscent of how the British “Doctor Who” series was long organized.
But there are other ways of looking at Star Trek in terms of arcs, at least metaphorically. Such as the accidental arcs of major characters, and the improvised arc of the entire saga.
by William S. Kowinski
Star Trek as a saga is largely improvised. The original series concentrated on making the elements of the Star Trek universe consistent, to produce plausibility. Eventually stories began to build on characters and events of past stories. One Klingon encounter led to another.
Then came the accidental arc of “the trilogy”—the second, third and fourth Star Trek feature films. They weren’t planned as a continuous story, occurring sequentially in time. If Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan had not been such a creative and commercial success, it may well have been the last of Star Trek.
Star Trek: The Next Generation began on television with certain commitments and hopes, and before it began Gene Roddenberry, other producers and writers had well over a decade of musing on what the original series had established and what was left within that to explore---which, as it turned out, was a lot.
In the formal sense of “story arc” in episodic TV—a continuous story over several or many episodes—TNG didn’t go much past the two-parter (although it could be argued that the return to earth of the Enterprise-D in “Family” was the third episode in the “Best of Both Worlds” confrontation with the Borg arc.) It wasn’t until TNG has solidified Star Trek’s prominence at Paramount that longer arcs were explored in “Deep Space Nine” and “Voyager.” “Enterprise” had something akin to a season-long arc and then in the first half of its last season produced several “mini-arcs” of three episodes, reminiscent of how the British “Doctor Who” series was long organized.
But there are other ways of looking at Star Trek in terms of arcs, at least metaphorically. Such as the accidental arcs of major characters, and the improvised arc of the entire saga.
Character and the Arc for Spock
Character arcs add up to our sense of the character’s essence, of what makes Kirk Kirk or Picard Picard, based on how they responded to a variety of situations depicted over time. But the character arc basically shows us how the character changed over time.
As far as I know, the only character arc that was planned from the beginning was Data, and that was a very basic plan. Brent Spiner has said that GR told him that Data would start out being quite different from the humans around him, but his eagerness to learn and his involvement in the lives of the crew and of the Enterprise, including his relationships, would mean that Data would gradually become more “human” in speech and behavior. In other words, the puppet Pinocchio would become a boy.
At some point, the TNG producers must have realized that they had a similar opportunity with Worf, though the changes in him would be more dynamic: how could he become more comfortable as a member of the Enterprise crew, and assimilate (it’s hard to use that word in a non-Borgian sense, but it’s the correct one) the best of what humanity had to offer, without losing his Klingon identity---in fact, while he strengthened it? That became the Worf arc, and it continued in Deep Space Nine.
By then, Star Trek producers had the example of the character arc of Spock. Due at least in part to the involvement and prodding of Leonard Nimoy, Spock began to change with the very first Star Trek feature. Nimoy managed the change somewhat in the same way as he managed the establishing of the basic Spock character in TOS: by using the particular script or story he was confronted with, and finding a way to do something interesting with Spock that would support the story, but also grow the character.
So in the chaos of Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Nimoy (with Shatner) apparently cooked up a few moments that clarified what had been implied from the beginning: that Vger’s journey to the point of needing human feeling was parallel to Spock’s journey of trying to purge himself of everything human, failing, and then learning from his mind-meld with Vger the value of those human aspects, to himself as well as to Vger.
Spock’s arc seemed to be over in Star Trek II. He seemed warmer with Kirk and others than in the first film, and older than in the series, which fit well into one of “Khan”'s general themes: the relativity of youth and aging. But then, Spock died.
The movie was a major hit and so the arc was not complete. Spock returned at the end of Trek III, and in IV was a new Spock, with a different air of innocence. He had knowledge but incomplete access to personal memories: he was, in his own way, Data-like.
By Star Trek VI the arc was more or less complete, though Spock had personal lessons to learn in the course of the film. He had come to one conclusion that seemed to merge Vulcan logic with what a commander of Star Fleet in an earlier film called “Vulcan mysticism.” Spock told Valeris to have faith that the universe unfolds as it should. But his other insight, communicated in this same scene, was a summation of his personal journey, of Spock’s basic arc: “Logic is the beginning, not the end of wisdom.” But within the film, Spock also learns about human weakness (anger), and perhaps even Vulcan weakness (arrogance), and again the theme of aging emerges, culminating when the original crew refuses to stand down, and warps into legend.
Spock makes one more appearance, more than 80 years later, when he meets Picard and Data, and learns of the recent death of his father, in a TNG two-parter. While it was a decent story, and continued Spock’ occupational evolution as a kind of diplomat and mentor, it contributed little to the character arc. This story ended with Spock underground on Romulus, working for the reunification of Romulans and Vulcans (which unites this last story with one in the first season of TOS), an apt correspondence to Spock’s character arc of personal unification.
Carl Jung believed, as others have, that we have several “personalities,” several contending voices within us. The process of becoming more conscious, of knowing ourselves, over a lifetime is partly a process of recognizing those voices and getting them to work together. Nimoy believed that adolescents in particular were drawn to Spock because they were realizing their own internal conflicts for the first time. So in this sense at least, Spock’s arc is a template for all of us.
Character arcs add up to our sense of the character’s essence, of what makes Kirk Kirk or Picard Picard, based on how they responded to a variety of situations depicted over time. But the character arc basically shows us how the character changed over time.
As far as I know, the only character arc that was planned from the beginning was Data, and that was a very basic plan. Brent Spiner has said that GR told him that Data would start out being quite different from the humans around him, but his eagerness to learn and his involvement in the lives of the crew and of the Enterprise, including his relationships, would mean that Data would gradually become more “human” in speech and behavior. In other words, the puppet Pinocchio would become a boy.
At some point, the TNG producers must have realized that they had a similar opportunity with Worf, though the changes in him would be more dynamic: how could he become more comfortable as a member of the Enterprise crew, and assimilate (it’s hard to use that word in a non-Borgian sense, but it’s the correct one) the best of what humanity had to offer, without losing his Klingon identity---in fact, while he strengthened it? That became the Worf arc, and it continued in Deep Space Nine.
By then, Star Trek producers had the example of the character arc of Spock. Due at least in part to the involvement and prodding of Leonard Nimoy, Spock began to change with the very first Star Trek feature. Nimoy managed the change somewhat in the same way as he managed the establishing of the basic Spock character in TOS: by using the particular script or story he was confronted with, and finding a way to do something interesting with Spock that would support the story, but also grow the character.
So in the chaos of Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Nimoy (with Shatner) apparently cooked up a few moments that clarified what had been implied from the beginning: that Vger’s journey to the point of needing human feeling was parallel to Spock’s journey of trying to purge himself of everything human, failing, and then learning from his mind-meld with Vger the value of those human aspects, to himself as well as to Vger.
Spock’s arc seemed to be over in Star Trek II. He seemed warmer with Kirk and others than in the first film, and older than in the series, which fit well into one of “Khan”'s general themes: the relativity of youth and aging. But then, Spock died.
The movie was a major hit and so the arc was not complete. Spock returned at the end of Trek III, and in IV was a new Spock, with a different air of innocence. He had knowledge but incomplete access to personal memories: he was, in his own way, Data-like.
By Star Trek VI the arc was more or less complete, though Spock had personal lessons to learn in the course of the film. He had come to one conclusion that seemed to merge Vulcan logic with what a commander of Star Fleet in an earlier film called “Vulcan mysticism.” Spock told Valeris to have faith that the universe unfolds as it should. But his other insight, communicated in this same scene, was a summation of his personal journey, of Spock’s basic arc: “Logic is the beginning, not the end of wisdom.” But within the film, Spock also learns about human weakness (anger), and perhaps even Vulcan weakness (arrogance), and again the theme of aging emerges, culminating when the original crew refuses to stand down, and warps into legend.
Spock makes one more appearance, more than 80 years later, when he meets Picard and Data, and learns of the recent death of his father, in a TNG two-parter. While it was a decent story, and continued Spock’ occupational evolution as a kind of diplomat and mentor, it contributed little to the character arc. This story ended with Spock underground on Romulus, working for the reunification of Romulans and Vulcans (which unites this last story with one in the first season of TOS), an apt correspondence to Spock’s character arc of personal unification.
Carl Jung believed, as others have, that we have several “personalities,” several contending voices within us. The process of becoming more conscious, of knowing ourselves, over a lifetime is partly a process of recognizing those voices and getting them to work together. Nimoy believed that adolescents in particular were drawn to Spock because they were realizing their own internal conflicts for the first time. So in this sense at least, Spock’s arc is a template for all of us.
Captains of Soul
Captain Kirk’s character arc was perhaps less dramatic, if it’s possible to say that anything Shatner played was “less dramatic.” Mostly it seemed to be a kind of mellowing, of gaining complexity and self-knowledge through experience and the insults of aging, manifesting as a world-weary humor, the distinct irony that characterizes the latter movies, without completely losing the exuberance that was always the anchor of Kirk’s character. He dies trying to make a difference, doing so partly because "it was fun." (So maybe it could be summed up with the Shatner joke that didn't make it into Generations---from Captain on the bridge, to the bridge on the Captain.)
Captain Picard’s arc was probably also partly planned from the beginning, in the somewhat superficial way of his being a bit remote and uncomfortable with informal personal contact (especially children) in the beginning, and gradually warming and loosening up. This apparently mirrored Patrick Stewart’s attitude as an actor, when his British discipline and reserve met with the rest of the riot-prone cast. However, Stewart’s attitude changed perhaps even faster than Picard’s.
But when I think of Picard’s character arc, I think immediately of the impact on him of events in stories that, not just coincidentally, are among the best TNG episodes.
Throughout Star Trek and other TV and film science fiction, earthlings are forever being “taken over” by aliens, and when the alien influence is purged, they go back to normal as if nothing had happened to them. At least in the case of Picard, this doesn’t happen. The effects of his assimilation by the Borg are explored immediately in “Family.” In that story, he is humbled (“or humiliated” as his brother says) and hurt. In this story his youth is established as demonstrating a will to excel, and he did excel. But it was a lonely struggle---his father opposed his dreams of a Starfleet career, and his older brother resented and bullied him. (Patrick Stewart’s relationship with his own father was reputedly difficult.)
The effect of assimilation arises in a different way in the TNG feature “First Contact.” There we see the buried anger, the cold drive for vengeance, with its thinly veiled component of fear. Again, Picard is trying to impose his will---as he willed himself to win the Starfleet Academy marathon, he wills himself to defeat the Borg, no matter the cost to others.
Between the two Borg encounters, he had passed up on the opportunity to end the Borg threat by using the rescued Borg Hugh to infect the collective with a destructive virus. After being upbraided for this by an Admiral, he begins to doubt this decision. His dogged obsession with the Borg, and especially his residual contact with the collective, allows him to defeat a Borg incursion in the 24th century, and eventually to save the future by defeating the Borg in the 21st century. But other aspects of his character and its arc come into play when he is reminded of an archetype he is unconsciously acting out: that of Ahab, the whaling ship captain obsessed with revenge in Melville’s Moby Dick.
By now we know from earlier in his history that he is particularly aware of literary and historical precedents and meaning. Partly through that, and partly through his tutelage by Counsellor Troi, he has learned the benefits of being conscious of his own motivations, and in this case, of his own “shadow,” or the unconscious motives that masquerade as perfectly reasonable, leading to deliberately chosen behavior. All that makes his instant recognition of the truth of this archetype, and his instant change of behavior, very plausible for the Captain Picard we have come to know.
Captain Kirk’s character arc was perhaps less dramatic, if it’s possible to say that anything Shatner played was “less dramatic.” Mostly it seemed to be a kind of mellowing, of gaining complexity and self-knowledge through experience and the insults of aging, manifesting as a world-weary humor, the distinct irony that characterizes the latter movies, without completely losing the exuberance that was always the anchor of Kirk’s character. He dies trying to make a difference, doing so partly because "it was fun." (So maybe it could be summed up with the Shatner joke that didn't make it into Generations---from Captain on the bridge, to the bridge on the Captain.)
Captain Picard’s arc was probably also partly planned from the beginning, in the somewhat superficial way of his being a bit remote and uncomfortable with informal personal contact (especially children) in the beginning, and gradually warming and loosening up. This apparently mirrored Patrick Stewart’s attitude as an actor, when his British discipline and reserve met with the rest of the riot-prone cast. However, Stewart’s attitude changed perhaps even faster than Picard’s.
But when I think of Picard’s character arc, I think immediately of the impact on him of events in stories that, not just coincidentally, are among the best TNG episodes.
Throughout Star Trek and other TV and film science fiction, earthlings are forever being “taken over” by aliens, and when the alien influence is purged, they go back to normal as if nothing had happened to them. At least in the case of Picard, this doesn’t happen. The effects of his assimilation by the Borg are explored immediately in “Family.” In that story, he is humbled (“or humiliated” as his brother says) and hurt. In this story his youth is established as demonstrating a will to excel, and he did excel. But it was a lonely struggle---his father opposed his dreams of a Starfleet career, and his older brother resented and bullied him. (Patrick Stewart’s relationship with his own father was reputedly difficult.)
The effect of assimilation arises in a different way in the TNG feature “First Contact.” There we see the buried anger, the cold drive for vengeance, with its thinly veiled component of fear. Again, Picard is trying to impose his will---as he willed himself to win the Starfleet Academy marathon, he wills himself to defeat the Borg, no matter the cost to others.
Between the two Borg encounters, he had passed up on the opportunity to end the Borg threat by using the rescued Borg Hugh to infect the collective with a destructive virus. After being upbraided for this by an Admiral, he begins to doubt this decision. His dogged obsession with the Borg, and especially his residual contact with the collective, allows him to defeat a Borg incursion in the 24th century, and eventually to save the future by defeating the Borg in the 21st century. But other aspects of his character and its arc come into play when he is reminded of an archetype he is unconsciously acting out: that of Ahab, the whaling ship captain obsessed with revenge in Melville’s Moby Dick.
By now we know from earlier in his history that he is particularly aware of literary and historical precedents and meaning. Partly through that, and partly through his tutelage by Counsellor Troi, he has learned the benefits of being conscious of his own motivations, and in this case, of his own “shadow,” or the unconscious motives that masquerade as perfectly reasonable, leading to deliberately chosen behavior. All that makes his instant recognition of the truth of this archetype, and his instant change of behavior, very plausible for the Captain Picard we have come to know.
Picard's Archetypal Arcs
Within the series, Picard had at least two powerful experiences that changed his character, but in ways that are hard to pin down, though I believe they are real, and do affect subsequent stories. They were his encounter with Dathon, the captain of the Tamarians, in “Darmok,” and the experience of living an entire lifetime on an alien planet in a few minutes, in “The Inner Light.”
“Darmok” is rightly hailed as one of the most imaginative science fiction stories ever, and one of the most daring, since it relies on the idea that these aliens think and communicate in such an alien way. But while Troi and Data back on the ship begin to piece together the meaning of a key phrase, it is Picard, with his understanding of literature and ancient civilizations, who realizes the Tamarians communicate by metaphor, and moreover, he is able to tell an appropriate story from earth’s mythology to seal the beginning of mutual understanding with Dathon.
Picard had watched Dathon perform his rituals, and he returned Dathon’s artifacts to the Tamarians. But he did two things after the Tamarians left. He began reading the Homeric Hymns, because he felt the power of “our own root metaphors.” And in a very powerful last moment as he looked through his cabin window into space, he performed part of Dathon’s ritual.
It is this sense of primal cultures that our acts are related to the archetypal, and recognition of what exists as sacred in sacramental acts and rituals. Picard was profoundly affected by this, and I believe it contributes to such later developments as his attempted defense of the Native Americans on Dorvan V in “Journey’s End,” (which in turn may have made him more certain of his actions defending the Ba’ku in “Insurrection.”)
He was even more profoundly affected by living an entire lifetime on the dying planet of Kataan, although he never left the Enterprise bridge. It had been well established that Picard never had a family, and apparently never even a committed relationship. It was living the life he never had---as a husband, a father and a grandfather---that affected him even more than living in the Kataan culture, in its poignant final days (something which is more apt to affect us, as we consider our greenhouse future.)
Again, the key moment after his return is at his cabin window, when he gazes into space and plays the Ressican flute, and the song he had composed in that other life. Just as Kataan has lost all life, he has lost the life he’d had, yet just as his memories preserve the story of Kataan, his experiences as Kamin become part of his reality as Picard.
There’s at least one later episode that refers directly to this, when Picard plays the flute again, and falls in love, perhaps to begin building that life he’d never had. But the realities of Starfleet intervene again, because the Captain must make life and death decisions without fear or favor, even involving his beloved. But you get the sense that Picard has been permanently changed, with a deeper sense of mortality, a greater appreciation of the moment and for his Enterprise family. And in the feature “Generations,” when he is propelled into the Nexus where his greatest fantasy can come true, it is the fantasy of a family, a home with a wife and children. (Interestingly, it is akin to Kirk’s fantasy in the Nexus, of a home with the woman he loves.)
Close observers of others series can probably produce character arcs for their characters--perhaps Captain Sisko's journey towards the Prophets, Captain Janeway's journey to a more complex humanity, Captain Archer's seasoning from eager enthusiast to desperate and focused warrior to statesman, and the changes he goes through that convinces him that the Federation is necessary. But let's move on to the saga itself.
Within the series, Picard had at least two powerful experiences that changed his character, but in ways that are hard to pin down, though I believe they are real, and do affect subsequent stories. They were his encounter with Dathon, the captain of the Tamarians, in “Darmok,” and the experience of living an entire lifetime on an alien planet in a few minutes, in “The Inner Light.”
“Darmok” is rightly hailed as one of the most imaginative science fiction stories ever, and one of the most daring, since it relies on the idea that these aliens think and communicate in such an alien way. But while Troi and Data back on the ship begin to piece together the meaning of a key phrase, it is Picard, with his understanding of literature and ancient civilizations, who realizes the Tamarians communicate by metaphor, and moreover, he is able to tell an appropriate story from earth’s mythology to seal the beginning of mutual understanding with Dathon.
Picard had watched Dathon perform his rituals, and he returned Dathon’s artifacts to the Tamarians. But he did two things after the Tamarians left. He began reading the Homeric Hymns, because he felt the power of “our own root metaphors.” And in a very powerful last moment as he looked through his cabin window into space, he performed part of Dathon’s ritual.
It is this sense of primal cultures that our acts are related to the archetypal, and recognition of what exists as sacred in sacramental acts and rituals. Picard was profoundly affected by this, and I believe it contributes to such later developments as his attempted defense of the Native Americans on Dorvan V in “Journey’s End,” (which in turn may have made him more certain of his actions defending the Ba’ku in “Insurrection.”)
He was even more profoundly affected by living an entire lifetime on the dying planet of Kataan, although he never left the Enterprise bridge. It had been well established that Picard never had a family, and apparently never even a committed relationship. It was living the life he never had---as a husband, a father and a grandfather---that affected him even more than living in the Kataan culture, in its poignant final days (something which is more apt to affect us, as we consider our greenhouse future.)
Again, the key moment after his return is at his cabin window, when he gazes into space and plays the Ressican flute, and the song he had composed in that other life. Just as Kataan has lost all life, he has lost the life he’d had, yet just as his memories preserve the story of Kataan, his experiences as Kamin become part of his reality as Picard.
There’s at least one later episode that refers directly to this, when Picard plays the flute again, and falls in love, perhaps to begin building that life he’d never had. But the realities of Starfleet intervene again, because the Captain must make life and death decisions without fear or favor, even involving his beloved. But you get the sense that Picard has been permanently changed, with a deeper sense of mortality, a greater appreciation of the moment and for his Enterprise family. And in the feature “Generations,” when he is propelled into the Nexus where his greatest fantasy can come true, it is the fantasy of a family, a home with a wife and children. (Interestingly, it is akin to Kirk’s fantasy in the Nexus, of a home with the woman he loves.)
Close observers of others series can probably produce character arcs for their characters--perhaps Captain Sisko's journey towards the Prophets, Captain Janeway's journey to a more complex humanity, Captain Archer's seasoning from eager enthusiast to desperate and focused warrior to statesman, and the changes he goes through that convinces him that the Federation is necessary. But let's move on to the saga itself.
The Saga's Sagging Arc
But what of the grand arc of the Star Trek saga? That’s the most accidental arc of all, as the saga went on, at first in fits and starts, always threatening to end, and then in a great rush of many stories told at once (more than a decade with new episodes of two series on TV and new movies in the theatres), and then the slow fade to a sudden stop with the cancellation of Enterprise.
As a prequel series, Enterprise of course complicated the arc by giving it a new beginning. Fans were disturbed by some of the failures of “continuity” with later Trek they thought they saw, but it may also be argued that Enterprise tried too hard to accommodate familiar “races”—even the Borg, not encountered again until the 24th century.
But in its simplest sense, the Star Trek saga arc might go like this: after terrible warfare and the reversion to post-apocalyptic nightmare of violence and superstition, a scientific breakthrough---the discovery of warp drive—changes everything, when it attracts a passing science vessel of Vulcans, and humans learn they are not alone in the universe they now have the power to explore.
The earth unites and banishes poverty and war. Starfleet is formed. But after a century humans are chafing at their limitations, and at the Vulcans’ insistence they are not ready for true interstellar exploration. But Captain Archer and the first Enterprise begin that process. This leads to the founding of the Federation.
In an as yet undramatized period---possibly the subject of the proposed “Star Trek: The Beginning” movie---earth is at war with the Romulan Empire. It ends and the neutral zone is established. By the 23rd century, Captain Kirk’s Enterprise is exploring farther, by now governed by the Prime Directive. It is also exploring the nature of humanity, through contrast with the civilizations of other worlds it encounters.
Human progress continues in the 24th century, not simply in new technologies but in better understanding of humanity, a greater commitment to self-knowledge, and a richer sense of the ethical behavior necessary for relationships with beings different from themselves.
But new enemies test both the inventiveness and will of the Federation, and the depth of its ethical understanding. In encounters with the Borg and the Dominion, once again humans must face their inner demons as well as their outer enemies, and deal with feelings of anger and vengeance, and the self-perpetuating emotions of war. Some falter but recover, stronger in soul than before (Picard.) Others fall into the sentimentality and shadow emotions of earlier eras (or of earlier war movies.)
Under this pressure, the Federation falters in its principles. Evils of the past return---political expediency over practical principle, shady deals, violation of the Constitution---I mean, the Prime Directive, secret police, licensed murderers for the state, the use and (if novels are included that take the narrative past the "canon") defense of torture. It seems that only Jean-Luc Picard is left to defend the Vision of GR, I mean the Federation, and that’s before Picard’s story is taken over by novels.
Obviously, the arc was influenced by 9-11 and current warfare (although it reverted to recycling old war movie drama and cliches long before that), but that's hardly an excuse: the arc started in the midst of Vietnam, Civil Rights, government provocateurs in anti-war groups and spying on individuals, a presidential Enemy's List, subversion of the Constiution, etc. Star Trek provided both rational and idealistic alternatives, and convincingly dramatized them.
In short, the arc of the Star Trek saga has left its reason for being in question, with a deeply conflicted Federation and a compromised Starfleet. Not a pretty picture. A new movie might help. If it’s the right new movie.
But what of the grand arc of the Star Trek saga? That’s the most accidental arc of all, as the saga went on, at first in fits and starts, always threatening to end, and then in a great rush of many stories told at once (more than a decade with new episodes of two series on TV and new movies in the theatres), and then the slow fade to a sudden stop with the cancellation of Enterprise.
As a prequel series, Enterprise of course complicated the arc by giving it a new beginning. Fans were disturbed by some of the failures of “continuity” with later Trek they thought they saw, but it may also be argued that Enterprise tried too hard to accommodate familiar “races”—even the Borg, not encountered again until the 24th century.
But in its simplest sense, the Star Trek saga arc might go like this: after terrible warfare and the reversion to post-apocalyptic nightmare of violence and superstition, a scientific breakthrough---the discovery of warp drive—changes everything, when it attracts a passing science vessel of Vulcans, and humans learn they are not alone in the universe they now have the power to explore.
The earth unites and banishes poverty and war. Starfleet is formed. But after a century humans are chafing at their limitations, and at the Vulcans’ insistence they are not ready for true interstellar exploration. But Captain Archer and the first Enterprise begin that process. This leads to the founding of the Federation.
In an as yet undramatized period---possibly the subject of the proposed “Star Trek: The Beginning” movie---earth is at war with the Romulan Empire. It ends and the neutral zone is established. By the 23rd century, Captain Kirk’s Enterprise is exploring farther, by now governed by the Prime Directive. It is also exploring the nature of humanity, through contrast with the civilizations of other worlds it encounters.
Human progress continues in the 24th century, not simply in new technologies but in better understanding of humanity, a greater commitment to self-knowledge, and a richer sense of the ethical behavior necessary for relationships with beings different from themselves.
But new enemies test both the inventiveness and will of the Federation, and the depth of its ethical understanding. In encounters with the Borg and the Dominion, once again humans must face their inner demons as well as their outer enemies, and deal with feelings of anger and vengeance, and the self-perpetuating emotions of war. Some falter but recover, stronger in soul than before (Picard.) Others fall into the sentimentality and shadow emotions of earlier eras (or of earlier war movies.)
Under this pressure, the Federation falters in its principles. Evils of the past return---political expediency over practical principle, shady deals, violation of the Constitution---I mean, the Prime Directive, secret police, licensed murderers for the state, the use and (if novels are included that take the narrative past the "canon") defense of torture. It seems that only Jean-Luc Picard is left to defend the Vision of GR, I mean the Federation, and that’s before Picard’s story is taken over by novels.
Obviously, the arc was influenced by 9-11 and current warfare (although it reverted to recycling old war movie drama and cliches long before that), but that's hardly an excuse: the arc started in the midst of Vietnam, Civil Rights, government provocateurs in anti-war groups and spying on individuals, a presidential Enemy's List, subversion of the Constiution, etc. Star Trek provided both rational and idealistic alternatives, and convincingly dramatized them.
In short, the arc of the Star Trek saga has left its reason for being in question, with a deeply conflicted Federation and a compromised Starfleet. Not a pretty picture. A new movie might help. If it’s the right new movie.
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