Battlestar Galactica
I’m going to depart from my usual snarky, sarcastic political style to devote this diary to an underground pop-culture phenom beloved by intelligentsia and fanboys alike: Battlestar Galactica. More particularly, the religious issues presented on the ground-breaking, gritty sci-fi series. More exactly, the portrayals of Monotheism and Polytheism on the show, and what they say about the place of such fundamental religious ideas in a society. If you’ve made it to this point in the paragraph, then you are either a sci-fi fanboy (lookin' at you, Brinn!), a Pagan (Isaac! I can hear you breathing!), or a religious studies nerd, so join me after the jump for analysis.
Cool, just us geeks, now! (Full disclosure: I am a practicing polytheist)
The layout is real simple: the Colonials have a vibrant polytheistic culture, the Cylons have a tyrannical monotheism. To my knowledge, this is the first credible instance of a polytheistic culture being seriously portrayed in an advanced-technology sci-fi show, and while the plot lines haven’t dwelt upon the theological differences per se, the philosophical tension between the two has provided a phenomenal backdrop to the series as a whole, and has informed particular moments in the story arc in a way that a traditional western look at religion probably would not.
The gods of the Colonials are loosely based on the Greek pantheon, including a multitude of references to other cultural elements lifted from Greek mythology (The Book of Pythia – the priestess who performed the oracles at Delphi in our world, for instance). This holdover from the original, which was influenced by the popular Van Danikan "Ancient Astronaut" theories that were so popular in the 1970s, loses the Egyptian motif the original show’s producers mixed in haphazardly, condensing the area of influence between Earth and the Colonials down to one single ancient culture.
This simplification allows us to view the polytheistic religious culture of the Colonials in an understandable way (the Greek pantheon is the one most people in the West are the most familiar with) and should not be seen as an opportunity to get bogged down in the details of whether or not the Ancient Greeks got extraterrestrial help, and focus on the fact that this is a vibrant polytheistic culture that has gods, plural. The Greek names are merely for our convenience.
What are some of the religious elements that have crept into Colonial culture? First, there is their religious invocation: "All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again." This one statement effectively separates the philosophy of the Colonials from our own society’s; after nearly two millennia of Monotheistic domination of the intellectual sphere, the West has adopted one of the central points of the monotheistic "God of History": our lives are a one-shot deal, upon which we stake our immortal soul for all of eternity. This concept pervades our society at a basic level, now, and it seems strange that perfectly normal-looking white people (with enough other ethnicities thrown in for flavor) would have any other view. But the invocation clearly indicates the Colonial culture’s belief in cyclical time, which implies reincarnation of some sort. Despite this belief in rebirth, the humans don’t seem to struggle any less for life than they probably would with our traditional one-shot-is-all-you-get perspective.
Second, there is the way they end their religious rituals, with the semantic equivalent of "amen": "So say we all!" Unlike our traditional Monotheistic blessings at the ends of prayers, "So say we all!" is a collective agreement, implying not just a blind acceptance of revealed teachings but a consensus of belief, presumably based upon intense personal introspection and study. The priests and priestesses of Galactica are scholars, after all, and temples are places of study as much as prayer and reflection. But this pagan culture seems to have an inherently democratic streak running through it. The priesthood guides more than leads, and based on some of the dialog from Chief Tyrol and Starbuck, the essential work of personal faith is left largely with the individual.
I have often come across the argument in the theological mosh-pits I frequent that only a Monotheistic culture is capable of the stability and development necessary to build an advanced society. Needless to say I find the argument laughable, and could point out the Chinese, Indian, and other non-Monotheistic cultures that have thrived perfectly well in our own world. The argument usually comes down to the idea that only a Monotheism, with a law-dispensing deity, can provide the moral center to guide our daily spiritual lives and provide a basis for a sophisticated ethical culture. Remove the Ten Commandments from the core of our society, the argument goes, and everything falls into a chaos of self-interest and decadent license, prohibiting further development.
Yet the Colonial religion shows us a society bereft of the Ten Commandments, and that (admittedly fictional) society has no problems confronting moral and ethical dilemmas usually covered under the Torah. Indeed, there seems to be even more thought given to the moral implications of choices made in the culture, especially in the face of cataclysmic trauma. Is there struggle? Certainly. Is there strife? Of course. But there is no real moral chaos, merely the attempt to apply the ethical guidelines of a relatively peaceful society to one where constant emergency is the daily rule. This parallels the emerging Neo-Pagan religion in the West, which seems much more intent to dwell upon moral and ethical considerations of their every daily act than their Monotheistic neighbors. Most practicing Monotheists seem content to let their spiritual forefathers (who were on orders from God) do the ethical heavy-lifting for them.
The pagan Colonials also demonstrate how, contrary to the Monotheistic arguments to the contrary, a polytheistic culture could exist without being torn apart by internecine strife between the adherents of various divinities. The internal struggles shown in the Colonial Fleet are about class, and colonial origin, and politics – there is little tension between various sects, though contemporary issues like abortion and execution invoke religious-themed arguments from more liberal and more conservative interpretations of the religion. The pantheon is considered as a working whole, not a squabbling pack of rival divinities. Each has their place in the lives of the Colonials, and while each has its specific adherents (Starbuck with Artemis, most particularly) in the Colonial pantheon the divine work is spread out among everyone without a single divinity dominating. Colonial Zeus presides, but it is a shared responsibility – one reflected in the lives of the Colonials.
While there is an emphasis on religious faith in the Fleet, religious faith ("absolute belief without proof) per se isn’t the guiding force of the religion. It is part of their pagan history, and the religious artifacts of their ancestors clutter their lives to provide the "proof" that denies complete faith. Devotion to the gods is not a manifestation of a divine command, nor is absolute faith required in the face of the cultural "proof" that underlies the culture. Religion is a means of keeping both the society and the individual functioning, not an end in its own right. In the Colonial culture we see religion in service to the society, not society in service to religion.
In contrast the radical Monotheism of the Cylons seems at the same time alien, due to the convoluted logic that caused a race of machines to invent their own religion, and familiar, as Monotheistic cultures often have common elements. While there is considerable struggle and theological debate among the seven known "skin jobs", ranging from blind faith to agnosticism bordering on atheism, there is also a wholesale rejection of polytheism as a valid religious construct. The Cylons are ever-so-patronizing as they rephrase the Colonials’ religious questions into monotheistic versions, and seek to answer them with smugness usually reserved in our society for those whose religious faith is a proven, historical fact, not an organic, living thing.
The Cylons’ monotheism is manifestation of their centralized computer society, a reflection of a smoothly manufactured and well designed operating system. From such a vantage point it is not difficult to imagine how and why monotheism as an elegant concept would appeal to a culture of machines. Multiple gods are just needlessly messy. The jumbled chaos of the all-too-human Colonial pantheon would be seen as inefficient and inextricably tied to the barbaric nature of human beings. Their monotheism is packed full of juicy egotism as they can imagine no other universe but one in which Cyulons and God exist as two sides of the equation.
Which puts their existential existence in peril. While they see Cylon civilization as near-perfect, and human civilization as needlessly messy and chaotic, the Cylons have to contend with the fact that they, themselves, are a product of that imperfect civilization – and it’s driving them fraking crazy. How could perfection arise from imperfection? That question troubled the early Christian Church as it strove with the divine nature of Jesus and the role of the Virgin in his birth – a rich and fertile crop of heresies sprung up in the early days of the monotheism and wasn’t settled properly until one sect within the Church established its viewpoint as (forgive me) gospel: Jesus is divine in spite of his physical origins, all God but all Man in one of the most amusing of the contradictory arguments the Church Fathers made.
For humanity, the equation is reversed: they know that imperfect humanity arose from the divinely-perfect Lords of Kobol. But while the Cylons are exactly certain of their origins, they lack the sense of purpose implicit in a biological organism. The maddening question of the purpose of their existence, in reference to God, is what drives them first to exterminate, and later on New Caprica to attempt to dominate, the human race – and after three seasons they are still no closer to an answer, and are as spiritually divided as they can be. Even with their "eternal life" being guaranteed by a never-ending supply of new bodies, and the shared-gestalt implicit in their rebirth, the Cylons’ monotheism is still fraught with existential landmines.
There is the presence of mysticism, epitomized by one now-discontinued line of "skin jobs", that seems to complicate the smooth and efficient philosophy of Cylon religion. How do robots contend with "messages from God", elements that cannot be accounted for by programming, logic, or reason? There is the widely-acknowledged existence of supreme doubt, a flirtation with atheism epitomized by another line. Betwixt the two are a wide range of responses to the fundamental question, and the tension within this theoretically-unified religion express many of the logical arguments that our own monotheisms continue to struggle through. Indeed, BSG has provided us an opportunity to look at our cultural assumptions about monotheism through new eyes – red glowing eyes that oscillate back and forth.
One of those responses to the question is represented by the Sharon/Athena and Number Six lines, which eschew both the surrender to mysticism and the capitulation to atheism, and chooses instead the organic route. Biological reproduction, as represented in little Hera (a Cylon/Human hybrid toddler) is the key, the argument appears to run. Humans have purpose because their existence is not secure, like a Cylon, and their only recourse to immortality – and perhaps eventual unification with the divine – is through their children. Lacking such a central motivation has propelled Cylon civilization into a spiritual dead-end. The way to God lies in sex and love, in becoming more human, not less. But that answer is by no means accepted by a consensus of Cylons, and the debate rages on to (hopefully) a stellar conclusion.
If the Cylon’s Monotheism takes a fresh look at our own religious assumptions, then the Colonial’s Polytheism gives us a time-honored pagan response to crisis situations: allegory. Quite simply the main characters in the show can be seen as allegorical versions of the Greek pantheon: Adama as brooding Zeus, paterfamilias and protector; President Roslin is Hera, mother-goddess responsible for domestic social order and, ultimately, the destiny of the race; Col. Tigh is a drunken Ares, a god of war tragically in love with a sex goddess.
Apollo –well, shouldn’t have to spell that one out for you, nor should I have to point out his semi-incestuous relationship with Starbuck, who’s an avatar of Artemis. And half-crazed Baltar is none other than Hades. His sole responsibility for the annihilation of billions of people has pushed his brain into a space where death and sex and life and power all conspire to incite madness. Chief Tyrol is Hephaestus, the brilliant technician permanently emotionally lamed by his relationship with the Cylon Sharon, who herself is an avatar of Athena, goddess of war, technology and wisdom. Sam Anders, professional Pyramid player and ferocious rebel, doubles for Orion/Heracles in his torrid and ultimately unsatisfactory marriage to Starbuck.
Yes, the allegory breaks down as you descend to the more minor characters, and Goddess only knows what’s going to happen now that a good chunk of the "pantheon" are revealed as Cylons – and what the frak is up with Starbuck? But it suffices to give some philosophical order to the show.
Everyone knows how political Battlestar Galactica is, but the politics don’t stop at the Iraq War, suicide bombers, abortion and neo-conservatism. Within this dark and gloomy exploration of the human psyche through the lens of a "refugee camp in space" we can examine some of the most basic preconceptions of what our religion – our total response to the universe – provides us in the face of personal and societal crisis. And while I doubt any radical new belief will be born as a result, the clash of monotheism and polytheism is at least getting some serious attention as the dregs of humanity fight for survival against the robot Cylons.
Me? I’m rooting for the Pagans.