Star Trek and a Private Little Directive

Despite dancing around the issue for an entire class, we managed to talk Star Trek without mentioning the Prime Directive! Any exploration of Star Trek as a utopian ideal rather than just a first-world fantasy has to contend with the Prime Directive, that pesky non-interference clause.

In "A Private Little War" Kirk assumes that the Klingons have armed the villagers with flintlock firearms, and he’s furious. How dare they contaminate this planet with their superior (and murderous) technology? He and Bones refuse to give any weapons to the hill people until they’ve proven Klingon involvement, and they keep their identities secret from the tribe—only Tyree and his wife know that they’re from another planet, and they’re none too happy with Nona having this information. All of this fuss about staying out of other people’s business is Starfleet’s Prime Directive, which states that "personnel should refrain from interfering in the natural, unassisted, [sic] developmentof societies, even if such interference [is] well-intentioned." (Thanks to Memory Alpha, the Star Trek wiki.) But Kirk is emotionally involved—these are his friends! This planet was a paradise! Bones, on the other hand, insists throughout that providing these people with flintlocks is a slippery slope. What weapon next? How many people will they enable to kill? Where does it end?

Thanks to Iverson Movie Ranch for the screen capture. 

The thing is, the Prime Directive is really serious business. It means no interference whatsoever, not even in providing knowledge of a larger universe. In the episode "Bread and Circuses," Kirk explains the Prime Directive as: "No identification of self or mission. No interference with the social development of said planet. No references to space or the fact that there are other worlds or civilizations." You can pass for one of the natives, or you can hide. Those are your only options. And the Federation is not kidding. This directive is “prime," number one, the very first rule. Starfleet captains vow to uphold it with their lives, if necessary.

Which leaves me wondering—why does it matter? Why is it such a big deal if we interfere in other civilizations? Presumably we’re letting evolution take its course, but what’s the good in doing that? Doesn’t that assume some sort of moral dimension to evolution that doesn’t actually exist? The end result of noninterference may be a people more perfectly suited to the planet they live on, but this compatibility comes at the cost of virtually everyone before them. And at a certain point in the development of a civilization (assuming an intelligent life form that uses tools), we create technology to supplement our imperfect adaptation, anyway—technology lets us triumph over nature. Doesn’t it? Am I missing something? Am I mapping a human adaptation technique onto non-human species unjustly? Is there not a point at which technological invention necessarily dominates other adaptive capabilities? I mean, chameleons are fantastic at camouflage, and bears are the top of their food chain, but you don’t see them curing disease and adapting to climate change. Why should we be cruel and let evolution take its course when it’s going to end in technological innovation, anyway? This has become a tangent, but, I think, a relevant one.  

The real answer to my question is "the Cold War" and "the East Asian theater," right? We talked about humans and Klingons as capitalists and communists in "The Trouble with Tribbles." "A Private Little War" is a clear—blatant!—allegory for the Vietnam War, which was in full swing by the time the episode aired in 1967. The communists provide arms to one side, the capitalists to another, and we sit back and watch those involved in the conflict blow each other to smithereens without having to become involved in the bloodshed ourselves. Until suddenly it escalates, and we are involved. And then we fight them over there so we don’t have to fight them here, right?

Star Trek doesn’t see much of a need to fight at all. And in the context of the Cold War, the never-ending and unwinnable Vietnam War, and the arms race (the pinnacle of which is the civilization-ending nuclear bomb), it’s hard to argue with that claim. Involvement leads to escalation. Involvement leads to bloodshed. They’re better off on their own. Some may die, but certainly not in the kind of mass carnage that our (military) interference would cause. The Garden of Eden may not actually be perfect, but it’s better than the Fall. In its historical context, I see what they mean.

But not all involvement is military involvement, and by the time we get to Star Trek: The Next Generation, we’re looking at the Prime Directive in much trickier situations. In the episode "Homeward," the Enterprise crew is willing to let an entire (intelligent, developed, tool-using, literature-possessing, humanoid) species perish in a natural disaster rather than interfere in their "development." To be perfectly clear, these people wouldn’t develop further; they would all die. Granted, the episode ends with the crew saving one small village while managing to uphold the Prime Directive (sort of): the village never knows that aliens intervened on their behalf. But the show also reaffirms the importance of the Prime Directive, as the most intelligent of the villagers discovers the Enterprise, undergoes an existential crisis, and commits suicide.

One might point out that if the Enterprise had not intervened, he would have died anyway.

As a twelve-year-old watching The Next Generation, I never questioned the moral rightness of Prime Directive, even as I never thought to question all the times our heroes break it. As an adult, I understand that interference in the business of others often leads to a big fat imbroglio, though I wonder if a proxy war conducted for our own gain is the same as something like building infrastructure or providing aid. 

I’m also completely unwilling to stand back and let people die and claim that I’m doing the hard but right thing. So what am I missing? The Prime Directive might be a very good rule from a practical point of view. But is it really so morally correct?