Fandom and Morality

 Fandom and Morality:

On Doctor Who, Buffy Soul Lore, and a Love for Villains

          So, if you've been around my blog for much time at all, you have most likely picked up on the fact that I am something of a fangirl. Since I first gained regular access to a personal laptop in 2013, and even before that inasmuch as I could manage, I have loved engaging with storytelling in the community of the internet, picking apart characters and their relationships and falling in love with every aspect of them. I also love delving into the complex ethical matters that lurk within popular media and add shade, texture, and complexity to these same relationships and characters, the things we can learn from them that can help us grow personally and the moral meat that they give us to explore. 

          Doctor Who, for example, is a show that I feel has a very strong moral center; though it has changed in many, many ways in the more than 50 years it's been around, I think its moral heart is pretty firmly planted as a show about solving issues with cleverness and love above violence, and as a show that in its essence believes everyone matters and is worth saving. Indeed, Doctor Who aligns closely with my personal philosophy and has also likely had an impact on that same philosophy in turn. However, there is one quote in particular I've been thinking about quite a lot since I first heard it which I'm not certain is fully fair, and I think perhaps for my annual year end blog post I'd like to break it down in light of both my faith and my currently active obsession, Buffy the Vampire Slayer--which in turn has its own morality that doesn't always align with mine, but which I find fascinating nonetheless. Then, to round out my lovely subtitle aka game plan, this will of course all tie in with my longstanding love for complicated villain characters, which I believe comes in large part from my belief that ultimately not one living being is beyond the potential for redemption and goodness. 

          I'm not going to hold myself to having a specific thesis statement, nor much structure, nor an ultimate conclusion per say, since it's been a while since I've had to write an actual academic essay (I can't believe I've been out of college for two and a half years now; existence and time really are strange and maddening things) and I don't intend to go back to that sort of writing fully just now. I mostly mean to parse out my thoughts and feelings on these things as I write them, but hopefully this will make for an interesting contemplative year-end essay nonetheless. 

            As for the Doctor Who quote that I plan to use as my jumping off point, I was reminded of it recently by this lovely piece of Circular Gallifreyan writing on a blog I follow. As you can see by my tags on my reblog of it, (yes I started another tumblr blog), I have a lot of thoughts on it, and while those tags weren't the place to fully expound them, this is. So firstly, I ought to present you with the full quote. Found in the Doctor Who episode "Extremis", season 10 episode 6 of the new series, as recalled in this transcript, the quote is thus: 

"Goodness is not goodness that seeks advantage. Good is good in the final hour, in the deepest pit, without hope, without witness, without reward. Virtue is only virtue in extremis." 

This is in fact spoken by Nardole, who is quoting River Song, who attributes this belief to the Doctor, so it's somewhat of a secondhand quote, but it is repeated multiple times throughout the episode, by the Twelfth Doctor himself and by Missy. This latest incarnation of the Master is herself going through a redemption arc tied around this quote--or perhaps is just embarking on such an arc as of this episode if I recall--which is ultimately fulfilled in the World Enough and Time / the Doctor Falls two parter, where it is pointedly punctuated a repetition of the "without" portion of the phrase. 

          It's an interesting and profound sentiment, and not without its merits. It tears down the idea of performative goodness, of being good only because you expect to get something out of it. It echoes that old idea that "character is who you are when no one is watching", the idea that a person needs to be independently good in order to be truly good, that you must be good in and of yourself without the need for social pressures to hold you in line. It's that idea that good that is done for anything other than its own sake is a good that will be doubled back on the moment it becomes inconvenient ("in the final hour, in the deepest pit"), that when things are truly headed south, the supposed good-doer will instead act selfishly and abandon their false and pretentious goodness, because it is not as sincere as this sort of real good which is altruistic and selfless. 

          It is truly a noble sentiment, and as I said in the tags on my tumblr reblog, the Doctor and the Master both ultimately fulfill it in the Doctor Falls. It's been some time since I watched that episode and I haven't entirely reread this transcript either, but as I recall, the Doctor sends on all of his companions ahead to face down the army of cybermen alone expecting certain death, and perhaps even more movingly, Missy literally kills her past self the Master in order to join the Doctor in this fight for the side of good-- except that the Master gets one last shot in and kills Missy, giving her a wound that is supposedly impossible to regenerate from (although I know the Master has come back in newer Doctor Who episodes, although I am not caught up and as such cannot comment on this newest iteration of the Master, although I have seen theories that he exists pre-Missy hence his lack of character development, which again, I haven't seen yet). Thus, they both choose to do good in the pure form outlined by this mission statement from Extremis. They do not have hope--neither one expects to survive the supposedly unstoppable cyberman army that's coming for them. They do not have witness--the Doctor's companions have all left him and Missy never gets a chance to tell the Doctor about her change of heart; both are left dying on the ground completely alone. And thus, they do not have reward-- no approval nor community to be found with their friends, no celebration, no escape, no congratulations, no happily ever after where old friends Theta Sigma and Koschei hop in their Tardis together and travel the galaxies together as they once planned to so many centuries and/or millennia ago (as I would personally see as a rather ideal happy ending for the both of them). Neither of them expected that, of course. And that is why, in the show's argument, their actions were truly, purely good. 

            Of course, the Doctor does get to go on, and perhaps so does Missy if the Dhawan!Master (who again, I only know about through bits and fragments on tumblr) is her future and not her past, although if this is true, it sounds like the Master has become evil again and regressed on all that good character growth, so perhaps it's better if that isn't their future. In any case, the Doctor Falls is not the end of the series; 12 goes on, regenerates into 13, and finds it in themself to go on. It may be a stretch to call this a "reward" per say, as the Doctor has serious qualms about even regenerating this time, but he does get to learn that Bill didn't stay a cyberman but was restored by Heather, and he sees a manifestation of her and gets his memories of Clara back as well in the next episode, his regeneration story, Twice Upon a Time. Granted, not only is this a bittersweet episode, it could be argued that what happens next does not necessarily qualify as a reward because there isn't necessarily causation between the two. But, if one allows it to hypothetically qualify as a reward, it does raise an interesting question to the show's earlier definition of goodness: if one does not expect a reward for one's goodness but nonetheless receives a reward, does the reward invalidate the good that one did? It seems unfair, but as I intend to unpack farther, it's a pretty restrictive definition of goodness in the first place. 

          And what's more, the Master seems to me to represent the inverse question raised by this definition-- if one does expect a reward and does not receive one, then would that invalidate the true goodness of the action? After all, Missy does not expect for her past self to kill her in a severely, literally self-destructive twist (laden with potentially very dark metaphors about the inescapability of past evil that almost threaten to undercut her very redemption arc (which is probably enough for another essay in itself)). Maybe she doesn't fully expect to make it through the massive cyberman army to even reach the Doctor's side, but I would say that she isn't fully without hope of reaching him, either-- and hope is one of the disqualifying factors in this definition also. So, is the twelfth Doctor's last stand not truly good if he does eventually gain reward in his future? Or, is Missy's last stand not truly good if she had hoped, prior to her self-murder, that she might stand by her long ago friend's side? I think based on the way it's being framed, the show wants us to see both characters as fulfilling the definition of goodness it has set, but it is such a strict standard for goodness that there are cracks in the purity of both character's actions, minute though they may be, that challenge this standard. 

            Perhaps the reason I am inclined to pick into such details of this definition of goodness's standards is ultimately because I have realized that I personally not only do not but really cannot ever fulfill it. This is because I am a Christian. I believe in God, all-knowing and all-loving, and in Heaven. Therefore, no matter what I face, no matter what my final earthly hour looks like or what deep pit I find myself in, I will always have hope, I will always have witness in God's eyes, and I will always have some sort of reward-- not that Heaven is a reward to be earned, rather a gift freely given and gladly received, but still, it is a happy ending that could be seen as incentivising goodness; also, there is some sort of business about crowns to present to God that admittedly I'm not 100% clear on the mechanics of but which might be read as some sort of rewarding ceremony. There could be not a living soul around, not a chance of escape, inevitable death and doom and pain and torturous evil coming for me, and I would still have everything that the Doctor's definition of good forbids from us, because my hope, witness, and reward are intamperable and incorruptible, not bound to this physical realm. I could be in circumstances identical to those the Doctor faced, but because of my beliefs, I would not be meeting his definition in the same way that he does. So, are Christians incapable of good by this definition of it? 

            Perhaps there is some merit to this line of thinking in terms of sin nature. We aren't necessarily good, not any of us, in a pure sense; as creatures with a sin nature, we can only be good through God. We can do things that are good, but ultimately they are to be credited to His guidance. So maybe this system could jive with the Doctor's definition to say that people are never truly good. To me, though, that still feels a bit too harsh. Maybe we are never really capital G Good, not perfectly good, but we can still affect positive change in the here and now that makes one another's lives better, in ways small and large. Though I have more than once considered myself and my motives and quietly thought "I am not a good person", ultimately these lines of thinking can be demoralizing; we are complicated, we are human, and perhaps we aren't truly good, but perhaps it's worth it to think that we are, just a little. Maybe it's going too far to include God in the Doctor's definition of good anyways; after all, as Christians we are to work for God's approval, not man's, so maybe a Christian integration of this aspect of Whovian philosophy would mean stipulating that the definition applies only to human approval and reward rather than divine. Then the revised definition might read something more like “goodness is not goodness that seeks earthly advantage" and so forth. Of course, "earthly" is a somewhat loaded term in the world of Doctor Who, where many of the events don't take place on nor anywhere near Earth, but I mean it in the "while alive and not in Heaven / being judged by non-God creatures" sense, not in a hair-splitting "technically, astronauts living on the ISS get a free pass" sense. So, let's say this definition doesn't include God's hope and witness then, only that of humans/ humanoid/ sentient, non-divine lifeforms. Is this more useful to us? 

            Maybe it is a worthwhile standard to hold to, to help us remember not to do things for earthly reward or approval. Still, though, most of the good we will do in our lives is done in a social context where it affects others. It is wonderful if you can do an anonymous act of kindness for someone for no gain, although then one does run into the issue of goodness being its own reward-- an issue in the sense that you will probably gain emotional satisfaction from doing it, which, in the very strictest sense, is still a reward after a fashion. Even without this nitpicking, most of the good you do will benefit another person (because what is the point of good if it's not benefitting someone?) and you will not always be able to be anonymous, and so perhaps it's still too strict of this definition to say that something is not truly good just because someone knows you did it-- whether or not it is the recipient of the good deed's benefit who witnesses you, witnesses are rarely possible to avoid altogether, and they are all still nixed by our definition. Maybe it was useful of the Doctor in that specific context to use such a strict definition of goodness towards Missy, whose head and heart had become so clouded by ages of twisting, turning, self-serving and manipulative schemes that she had lost all sight of what it meant to be good and she needed to start from scratch with something that would strip away her outs and her half-attempts at being good solely to look good for the Doctor, her captor. But alternatively, maybe a character who is on the long road back from the dark side is better off being able to take smaller steps. 

            Spike in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, for example, has a long, slow journey from villain to hero across several seasons of show. He does a lot of good in the sense that he performs deeds that are beneficial to others, helping Buffy and her friends fight enemies and fighting alongside them, but he also has more than one "relapse" along the way. So, is Spike ever truly good, and if so, when does he get there? By the Doctor Who definition we're exploring, Spike is almost never truly good, because almost every good deed he does is motivated by his growing love for Buffy, who he typically holds to as his hope, witness, and reward. She is his primary driving factor in the later seasons. If we go back to the first time he does something which may be negotiably considered good, or which is at least to the benefit of Buffy and human life on earth in general, it is even clearer that he is acting in self-interest. When he seeks to aid Buffy at the end of season 2, he is, of course, still firmly situated as a villain. By his own admission he only seeks to stop the world from ending because it holds things that are of interest to him--"dog racing, Manchester United. ...Billions of people walking around like Happy Meals with legs. ...Goodbye, Picadilly. Farewell, Leicester Bloody Square," (Becoming Part 2 transcript). And, as of this first team-up with Buffy, saving the world for simply the reward of still having the portions of it of which he's fond in tact isn't quite enough either; he also demands that Buffy let him leave town safely with Drusilla. Buffy stipulates that if Giles dies, Drusilla dies, and the deal is struck. True to his word, and/or confident that Buffy will be true to hers, Spike stops Angel(us) from killing Giles. When battle breaks out, Spike is helpful enough in getting the drop on Angel(us), and he removes Drusilla from the fray, making things easier for Buffy. Of course, once Drusilla is secured, Spike looks in on the battle between Buffy and Angel(us), remarking "he's gonna kill her," before shrugging uncaringly and leaving with Dru. So, Spike's first time working on the side of good is everything the 12th Doctor's definition of goodness excludes-- he has plenty of hope, rightly trusting that Buffy will win the day; he has witness in that Buffy knows he is helping her (not that it earns him a lot of points this early on, but he doesn't particularly care about that just yet either); and he has reward, both in that the world gets to go on existing with all the food sources and entertainment it contains and that he and his love get to leave town safely. No one involved would pretend that Spike was acting altruistically, not Spike nor Buffy. However, there were concrete benefits to his involvement. Without his words stopping Angel(us), Giles would almost certainly be dead. And while it is entirely possible that Buffy could've singlehandedly defeated Angel(us), Drusilla, and their vampire minions, it would've been a much more challenging battle for her to take them all alone, and Spike was undeniably a help to her. So, should the concrete benefits of Spike's choices be dismissed simply because they were done for entirely selfish reasons? And that isn't even mentioning how much worse the battle would've been for Buffy if Spike had been fighting against her, with Drusilla and Angel(us). After all, Spike has killed two slayers in the past, and he nearly had Buffy in School Hard-- he probably would've killed her if her mother hadn't swooped in with an axe. Combined with the forces of two other powerful vampires, Buffy would've been in dire trouble facing Angel(us), Drusilla, and Spike in Season 2's final battle rather than ultimately just Angel(us). It isn't really fair to say that someone should get points simply for not attempting to murder someone-- and is goodness even a thing measured in points, anyways?-- but I think it's worth considering the weight of Spike's choice to join the side of good in this battle, whether or not we consider him to be good at this point. I think, ultimately, the way I'm most tempted to parse this out is to say that Spike was not yet a good person, but perhaps he did do a good deed for Buffy; this is in defiance of the Doctor's definition of good, but perhaps it highlights a need for a distinction in the definition: is it about what it means to do good, or to be good? 

            I do have quite a bit more to say on this subject, but I'm afraid the end of this year 2020 is approaching and I would like to get this post out with a bit of time left to dance around my living room and kiss my cats on the hour, so for this year I might have to settle for putting out a two-parter with the next installment in the New Year--which, if I can hold myself to it, will make 2021 my first multi-post year since... *checks blog* 2015, so perhaps it's a good thing. I spent perhaps a bit too long on my preamble, but like I said, I've been out of college for a bit and I may have lost some sense of how to pace a major essay. Well, and if this were a regular essay, it would actually be rather on the long side, besides needing a fair deal of editing. I think I can still edit the post in the next year without losing the posting date, hopefully. In any case, it's been nice to get back into longwinded philosophical ramblings, and hopefully someone out there will someday enjoy reading them. This may even be the year I promote my blogspot on my tumblr, who knows. I do enjoy this being a site where I can write an incomplete 10 page essay on fandom ethics and then spend another paragraph writing a stream of consciousness housekeeping ramble about it! In any case, I have discovered that my blog is apparently set to California time by default, or West Coast time I guess, there are at least a couple of other states in that time zone; at any rate, I would technically have a couple more hours to write, but I would like to celebrate the year's turn as it comes here to me in the Midwest, hence my closing this post up early. Happy New Year, and may 2021 be kinder to us all. Someone yell at me in the comments if I don't continue this essay by some time in January of next year. 

            Beyond the violet mists, we have only just begun to delve into the true nature of goodness.