Doctor Who and Philosophy

by Courtland Lewis

  In “The Waters of Mars” (2009), the Tenth Doctor makes a conscious decision to change a major event in history by trying to save the crew of the first Mars base. He fails, feels defeated, and horribly guilty for his hubris. If the Doctor understood the laws of time fully, he wouldn’t have tried to manipulate them. More interestingly, the Doctor doesn’t use this as an opportunity for scientifically investigating the laws of time. Rather, he resigns himself to his old, evidently incomplete, paradigm for understanding his own limits for changing time. The Doctor isn’t simply defeated by the laws of time; he’s defeated by the fact that he can’t question his own understanding.

  Mythical thought, as we’ve seen, has its own moral wisdom but is limiting as a world view. But the same is true of science. Scientific thought, like mythical thought, is another way humans describe the world.

  The Mythologizing of Science

  To understand how science limits one’s world-view like mythical thought can, let’s look at the philosophers Max Horkheimer (1895-1973) and Theodor W. Adorno (1903-1969). In their classic work, Dialectic of Enlightenment, they argue that the apparent freedom that science gives us is actually an illusion. They suggest that science isn’t an accurate description of the world, but an invented construction. Like myth, science can control thought and limit human freedom. In fact, science often uses the same limiting structures that mythical thought uses. Science, of course, is still a very practical way of describing the world because it can develop theories that predict the outcomes of specific events. Yet, there’s still a mythical and therefore limiting element to these scientific descriptions.

  The hallmark of mythical thinking is ritual. They’re projections of ideas and passions in the mythical thinker’s mind. The mythmaker’s powerful imagination is so rich, many different gods and rituals are projected onto natural objects. There’re dances to make it rain, dances to make the crops grow, dances for fishing and so on. These rituals are linked to everything the mythical thinker does, and don’t allow for free rational choice on the part of the members of the community.

  I mentioned earlier that misguided religious leaders strip the free-will of their followers, often coercing them to act against their own interests. Because the mythic worldview of these misguided leaders is so powerful, as in “Meglos,” they can’t easily be reasoned with. Even though science frees people from superstition, it replaces that worldview with its own limiting framework.

  Science breaks down the mythical worldview by objectifying everything through mathematics.202 Objects and events are quantified on graphs and tables. Scientists remove the spiritual power of objects by understanding them in terms of numerical form. In science, individual objects don’t matter; what matters is the way general laws govern objects.

  So, nature loses all spiritual force. Rain is explained by scientific laws, eliminating the need to perform ritual dances. Further, the whole purpose of a scientific experiment is to test a hypothesis in a way that’s reproducible. So, if one runs an experiment on a rabbit, the individual rabbit shouldn’t matter. Any rabbit should be able to produce the same result. So any value of any specific object is lost. No particular object or icon has any spiritual power. This should be liberating, since now people don’t need to perform any rituals or worship any icons. The Doctor appears to employ science to be the freest creature in the universe, using his scientifically created TARDIS to travel through space and time. But does eliminating ritual and icons really make one free? Horkheimer and Adorno suggest it doesn’t because science doesn’t stress the importance of individuality, it simply diminishes freedom in a different way.

  A person is free when she or he can make a choice without the constraints of a particular framework of thought. Science provides distance from the restrictive structure of mythical thought; it replaces rain dances with theories of cause and effect that allow us to better predict future events and respond accordingly. However, the important point is that what science provides isn’t Truth but another conventional framework of thought, which depends upon assumptions concerning definite, universal laws of cause and effect in the universe. These laws, invented by scientists, are assumed to govern the scientist as much as anything else. Therefore, Horkheimer and Adorno suggest that scientists are forced to believe that they’re restricted by the laws they created. So the Doctor, who sometimes laughs at people trapped in a world of superstition, should realize that he himself is trapped in and governed by his own worldview of conventional scientific laws.

  The heroes of the Greek myths were dominated by the whims of the gods; all they could do was bemoan their fate. In an analogous way, because scientists have to admit the existence of an apparently necessary and unchanging order, all they can do is bemoan their fate. If the scientist could get out of their world view, maybe they could find a way to stop an on-coming disaster. But as long as they’re trapped in their own self-constructed scientific explanations, they’re trapped by their own worldview, just as much as the mythmaker.

  Both science and myth are stories we create to restrain ourselves. Horkheimer and Adorno write, “The principle of fatal necessity, which brings low the heroes of myth and derives as a logical consequence from the pronouncement of the oracle, does not merely, when refined to the stringency of formal logic, rule in every rationalistic system of Western philosophy, but itself dominates the series of systems which begins with the hierarchy of the gods and, in a permanent twilight of the idols, hands down an identical content: anger against insufficient righteousness” (p. 11). Scientists, like priests, are left to curse the necessity they think is in the world, but is actually in the constructions of their own minds.

  Many argue that science can be dangerous because it’s dehumanizing. Indeed, this is what happens in “Snakedance.” The unique point that Horkheimer and Adorno try to make is that the real danger of science is precisely the fact that science depends upon describing the universe in terms of absolute necessity. They write, “For enlightenment is as totalitarian as any system. Its untruth does not consist in what its romantic enemies have always reproached it for: analytical method, return to elements, dissolution through reflective thought; but instead from the fact that for enlightenment the process is always decided from the start. When in mathematical procedure the unknown becomes the unknown quantity of an equation, this marks it as the well-known even before any value is inserted.” For science, there can be no real mystery. Mystery involves not knowing what the future will bring because the future has yet to be determined. In a math problem, however, the problem itself determines the required solution, so there’s no actual mystery. They continue, “Mathematical procedure became, so to speak, the ritual of thinking” (pp. 24-25).

  Doctor Who illustrates this. The Doctor holds that science dictates there’s an element to time he can’t change. However, the science that’s doing the dictating isn’t necessarily the actual laws of time and space, but the Doctor’s limited understanding of these laws. What the Doctor thinks is necessity is really an unfounded construct. In the Tenth Doctor episode, “The Fires of Pompeii” (2008), Donna Noble wants to save as many people of Pompeii by getting them in the TARDIS and taking them to safety. The Doctor insists that he can’t change history like that. The Doctor, however, can’t give a real explanation as to why; he sticks to the framework of his scientific understanding. The fact that Donna convinces the Doctor to save one family indicates the arbitrary nature of the Doctor’s worldview. But the Doctor has to hold onto this construction because that’s the nature of the scientific paradigm.

  The Doctor Dances

  One may wonder: if scientific thought can’t bring us to freedom, what’s the point of looking for meaning? Doctor Who presents an interesting ethical and philosophical response to this: mythical thought ought to balance the power of scientific thought.

  As I said earlier, mythical thought contains wisdom that helps one keep from being too decadent and greedy. Indeed, science itself in its quest for knowledge can cause one to lo
se track of moral goodness. The Daleks are a powerful symbol of that. The Doctor could easily fall into this decadence and use his TARDIS for pleasure, and worse, evil rather than good. But the Doctor doesn’t. He actually balances his science with a respect for myth. He recognizes on Manussa that mythical thought is needed to defeat the Mara. Rather than using the best technology available to him, he uses a sonic screwdriver instead of a gun; he uses an old Type-40 TARDIS with a broken chameleon circuit rather than a new one. He respects the cultural tradition and myth of civilizations, when he can. This respect for myth keeps his character balanced.

  So, in the conflict between myth and science, Doctor Who doesn’t simply come down on the side of science. Instead, it indicates that we should understand that myth has an important moral power. Rather than simply rejecting all ancient wisdom outright and replacing it with science, Doctor Who suggests we should humbly balance the two alternatives to try to live well.

  32

  Philosophy, Fantastic!

  COURTLAND LEWIS

  One day I shall come back. Until then, there must be no regrets, no tears, no anxiety. Just go forward in all your beliefs, and prove that I am not mistaken in mine.

  —First Doctor (“The Dalek Invasion of Earth,” 1964)

  Just as philosophy is an important component of our culture, Doctor Who is too. In fact, when we examine them side-by-side we see several striking similarities.

  Philosophers are involved in performing certain specific tasks. These tasks include things like examining human nature and knowledge, beauty, right and wrong, the inner-workings of science, logic, mathematics, personal identity, and among other things, looking at the ways in which people reason. Some goals of these philosophical investigations include teasing out prejudices, presumptions, and general errors in reasoning. Because of its nature, philosophy requires that people reflect on their lives, beliefs, and be aware of the ways in which they act and treat others, and be willing to buck outdated traditions for something new.

  It should come as no surprise, then, that each author in this volume shows how Doctor Who addresses one or more of the many issues just listed. Like philosophy, Doctor Who is involved in many of the same tasks and has similar goals, and as a result, Doctor Who challenges people to reflect on deep philosophical issues and grow not only as individuals but also as humans in relation to others and the wider universe. It’s this challenge that draws people to Doctor Who and to philosophy, and is why we love them both.

  For the Love of Philosophy and Doctor Who

  Just like watching Doctor Who, philosophy is a fascinating, exciting, and sometimes spiritual enterprise. Even if readers or viewers haven’t previously made the connection between the two, Doctor Who contains several important philosophical elements, which show that they’re respectively engaged in complementary enterprises.

  If you ask a philosopher, “What’s philosophy?”, you’re bound to receive as many different answers as you would if you ask a Doctor Who fan, “who’s your favorite Doctor?” or “what’s your favorite episode?” There’s simply no easy, straightforward answer to give that’s universally satisfactory. Simply put, philosophy is the love of wisdom, but really, it’s much more than this. Socrates (around 469-399 B.C.) said that philosophy is that which aids one’s choosing of the good life (Republic), the greatest of arts (Phaedo), a sense of wonder (Theaetetus), and among other things the love of real knowledge (Republic). None of these descriptions completely describe what philosophy is. What’s needed is to take these descriptions of philosophy and combine them with a discussion of what philosophy is not.

  Plato’s Gorgias presents an example of what philosophy is and is not, by defining ‘rhetoric’ (the art of persuasive speaking). Without going into the finer details of the dialogue, Socrates engages in a discussion with Gorgias, a great rhetorical orator, about what sort of profession Gorgias practices. Based on Gorgias’s answers, Socrates makes an important distinction between teaching (what philosophy does) and mere persuasion. Persuasion is presented as a power that orators have over others—to make individuals and groups succumb to the orator’s will. In other words, a rhetorician uses words to convince interlocutors about what’s wrong and what’s right, and is dedicated to winning arguments at any cost, whether by lying, deceiving, or obfuscation.

  Due to its nature, rhetoric fails to produce any sort of reliable knowledge. The Master serves as an exemplar of a “master” rhetorician, and shows exactly why persuasion only produces unreliable beliefs. Imagine if the Master needed your help to carry out one of his evil plans to destroy the Earth.203 The Master needs to convince you that it’s in your best interest to help him destroy the Earth (if he doesn’t just hypnotize you first), and the most effective way for him to do this is to play off of your fears and emotions, which keep you from critically thinking about what the best course of action actually is. The belief that you must help the Master is only as strong as that on which it’s based, and even though you trust the Master to tell you the truth, you’re mistaken. Your trust in the Master is unreliable because he’s unreliable, and if you were someone like the Doctor, or one of his companions, you’d know not to trust him.

  Instead of your belief being based on something more certain, like a critically thought-out plan on how to save the Earth, your belief is based on the Master’s persuasive abilities. The result of his unreliability is that your beliefs are unreliable too. Yet, people continue to trust him, and this is because he’s such a great rhetorician. He’s like a chef who’s able to make a rotten piece of meat taste like a fine delicacy. The Master knows what your interests and concerns are, and he uses them to persuade you that you should help him further his goals. It’s this knack of persuasion, by creating false beliefs in individuals, which allows him to gain control over so many subjects. Even his use of hypnosis is merely a form of subliminal persuasion. Just like rhetoricians who are only concerned with persuasion, you shouldn’t trust the Master, for any beliefs produced by him are unreliable and fail to foster any sort of reliable knowledge.

  Teaching, on the other hand, has a very different goal than that of rhetoric. Teaching is the attempt to pass knowledge from one individual to another or to help individuals reach some understanding about truth, usually via the method of critical thinking. It’s not concerned with “winning” an argument, nor is it concerned with causing interlocutors to conform to the will of the teacher. Teaching is about engaging others in a dialogue about certain topics and getting interlocutors to arrive at true beliefs about a particular subject matter. It’s concerned with creating justified belief in some idea or subject. The Master doesn’t care about truth, certainty, or knowledge, except maybe in “The End of Time, Part 2” (2010); he merely cares about persuading you to help him. The Doctor, who’s a teacher, has an overall dedication to telling you the truth (even if he fudges it from time to time!), giving you as much information as possible, and allowing you to make your own decisions about what ought to be done. This doesn’t mean that teachers, and the Doctor, never persuade, but it does mean that they’re dedicated to something greater than merely persuading: like truth, consistency, and integrity. Teachers, then, are dedicated to making individuals better by helping them find knowledge by thinking for themselves and not merely going with the flow.

  According to Plato and Socrates, philosophers should be teachers, and if we combine the characteristics of teachers with the characteristics of philosophy mentioned above, then we’ve a much clearer picture of what philosophy is. Philosophy is a dedication to self-reflection, truth, and consistency, which as Socrates suggests, is necessary for living the good life and having knowledge. Philosophy might deserve the title of “greatest of arts”—it definitely fits Socrates’s other descriptions, namely, aiding in one’s choosing of the good life, creates a sense of wonder about one’s life and how to live it, and among other things, fosters the love of real knowledge—not just beliefs about what might be true.

  Philosophy, therefore, is many
things to many people: it’s a way of life, a tool to achieve consistency and order in one’s life, the search for knowledge and wisdom, and a spiritual quest. Philosophy defies easy characterization because it’s concerned with wisdom and understanding, and these pursuits require that it be partially engaged with every field of study and every aspect of existence. As a result, philosophy is a little bit of everything to everyone, and that’s good.

  Doctor Who as Philosophy

  Most viewers know that Doctor Who began as an educational show, but far fewer realize it’s a show dedicated to teaching in the philosophical sense discussed earlier, which means it’s dedicated to discovering truth, promoting consistency, and fostering integrity. In fact, Doctor Who challenges people in three particular ways: to be reflective about one’s own life and the ways in which one reasons, to be reflective about how one treats others, and always be willing change one’s views in light of new evidence.

  From the very beginning, the Doctor took viewers on adventures to historical places like Rome (“The Romans,” 1965), the Aztec Empire (“The Aztecs,” 1964), and on a journey with Marco Polo (“Marco Polo,” 1964). The show wasn’t merely concerned with winning over audiences with exciting stories about time travel, which it did, but it was concerned with teaching the audience about strange new places and aliens, and that we should respect their differences and appropriately adjust how we act around them.