> The Wrath Of Osama bin Laden - Star Trek Into Darkness (SPOILERS)
>
>
> When the crew of the Enterprise is called back home, they find an
> unstoppable force of terror from within their own organization has
> detonated the fleet and everything it stands for, leaving our world in a
> state of crisis. With a personal score to settle, Captain Kirk leads a
> manhunt to a war-zone world to capture a one man weapon of mass
> destruction.
>
>
> S
> P
> O
> I
> L
> E
> R
> S
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> December 15, 2009
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> GQ: Do you think people will look back at these shows and see them as a
> product of this moment in history, the way people trace the paranoia of
> The Twilight Zone to the Cold War?
>
> Abrams: I'm sure they will. Can you point to a show in the last four
> decades that you can't do that with? Every show seems like it's a result
> of its context.
>
>
http://www.gq.com/entertainment/movies-and-tv/200912/jj-abrams-flashforward-lost-star-trek-2
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Star Trek Into Due Process: The Sequel’s Message About Drones,
Militarization, and Blowback
By Forrest Wickman May 17, 2013, at 8:19 PM
https://twitter.com/BlarneyConCarne/status/335794583701184512
Major spoilers ahead
The mission of Star Trek might be to explore strange new worlds, to seek
out new life and new civilizations, but the concerns of the latest star
Trek movie, Star Trek Into Darkness, are strangely earthbound. And I don’t
just mean because it’s more interested in phasers and explosions than in
pseudoscience and applied phlebotinum. I’m referring to how, even as it
ramps up into a full-on action flick, Star Trek Into Darkness offers up a
surprisingly nuanced critique American military power.
It’s no secret that Star Trek Into Darkness is meant as a post-9/11
allegory about American foreign policy. In fact, we’ve known this since
2009, when director J.J. Abrams and screenwriter Roberto Orci revealed
that they thought the sequel “need[ed] to do what [Trek creator Gene]
Roddenberry did so well, which is allegory,” for “modern-day issues,” like
torture, terrorist threats, and politicized wars. Star Benedict
Cumberbatch, speaking to BBC America earlier this month wasn’t afraid to
be more specific: “It’s no spoiler I think to say that there’s a huge
backbone in this film that’s a comment on recent U.S. interventionist
overseas policy from the Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld era,” he said. And then
there’s the message that appears on screen right before the credits: “This
film is dedicated to our post-9/11 veterans.”
If you’ve seen the film, you already know all this, because much of its
commentary is right there on the surface. Though it’s set in the year
2259, many of the film’s key lines sound lifted right out of today’s
political discourse. After Khan orchestrates a terrorist bombing of
Starfleet’s main archive building, attacks its high command, and hides
out, Osama-like, in a mountain cave in an uninhabited corner of enemy
territory, Admiral Marcus orders Kirk to fly to the edge of enemy space
and execute Khan using a payload of classified, high-tech torpedoes that
are capable of seeking out enemies from long distance. In other words, he
orders an extrajudicial killing by drone strike. The fact that this
measure isn’t strictly kosher under Starfleet law worries Spock, who
reminds Kirk of Khan’s right to due process, noting that there is no
Starfleet regulation that allows the killing of a Federation resident
without a trial. Soon, Kirk is persuaded by Spock’s argument that the
mission is both against Starfleet regulations and morally wrong, and
decides that he will personally lead a manhunt on the enemy planet, called
Kronos, where he will capture Khan and return him to Earth for trial.
Some have suggested that the film’s allegory more or less ends here. Over
on Flavorwire, Jason Bailey argues that “a few lines of sloganeering
dialogue is, sadly, the extent of the film’s consideration of this
hot-button issue.” But, while things get quite a bit muddier in the
developments that follow, that doesn’t mean the movie loses sight of its
allegory. After all, it’s a muddy issue—and the film carefully reflects
that. While Kirk and Spock oppose drone warfare, the film shows the very
real dangers of the alternative, a manned action to capture and prosecute
the terrorist. First, there’s the high risk of casualties: When Kirk’s
search party lands on Kronos, they’re swarmed by Klingons, and are nearly
captured and killed. Second, there’s the risk of provocation: Their
capture in enemy territory might precipitate a deadly war with the
Klingons, the movie reminds us, and the fact that they’re there in person
gives them even less of a chance at plausible deniability than a strike
from afar might.
While portraying the dangers of a police action, the movie also finds a
clever way to suggest the strategic downsides of using drones. Since we
can’t see both plans play out, the movie suggests these dangers in a
slightly more abstract manner, through an image. It turns out that the 72
special torpedoes aboard the Enterprise each have a man or woman stored in
cryosleep inside of them, the surviving members of Khan’s crew of
supermen. In other words, the torpedoes have two of the risks of drone
strikes literally built into them. First, the crewmembers represent the
potential for innocent casualties—they’re not the target of the strike.
And second, they represent the danger of how military action, especially
when it leaves civilian casualties, can result in further radicalization:
After all, the supermen were literally engineered as a way of defeating
the enemy, before they became an enemy themselves. The movie seems to
acknowledge the symbolism of the torpedoes in one of its closing lines, in
a speech delivered by Kirk: “There will always be those who mean to do us
harm. To stop them, we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves,”
Kirk says. The choice of the word “awakening,” spoken right around the
same time we see these potentially dangerous crewmembers stored away in
cryo-sleep, is surely no coincidence.
This theme of the dangers of blowback and militarization is made quite
literal in the film’s final twist. It turns out that the warmongering
Admiral Marcus is, in many ways, the Big Bad, and that it was he who
awakened Khan in the first place, to fight the Klingons. (Given that the
Klingons of the original series traditionally stood in for the Soviet
Union, this parallels the U.S.’s support of the Afghan mujahedeen in their
fight against the Soviets.) Marcus turns against the Enterprise, and is
not afraid of using Khan’s terrorist attack to provoke a war with the
Klingons. (Some commenters, including frequent Slate contributor Alyssa
Rosenberg, see in this turn of events a hint of 9/11 Trutherism—the idea
being that the Admiral was complicit in Khan’s terror attack because he
needed a pretext for war. But it’s not Marcus who orchestrates the attack
on London. It’s Khan.) Just like George W. Bush, Marcus invokes a
terrorist attack in an attempt to start a war on a country that had
nothing to do with it.
The admiral’s move toward militarization then leads to the most
catastrophic instance of blowback yet: Khan commandeers Marcus’ spacecraft
to crash into the skyscrapers of San Francisco, resulting in casualties
reminiscent of 9/11. (Abrams has acknowledged that he’s wanted some of his
movies to be cathartic for those traumatized by 9/11, and this is his most
9/11-esque moment since he produced and masterminded Cloverfield.) It’s
this tragedy that Kirk memorializes, when he warns of “awakening the same
evil within ourselves.” If Starfleet hadn’t ramped up for war, and
awakened Khan, Kirk suggests, this tragedy never would have happened.
Would the film have had a louder “message” if it showed only one side of
this complex issue? Yes. Would it have been better if it didn’t take on
this kind of allegory at all? Probably—I for one would prefer less
exploitation of our memories of 9/11. But, since they went there, they
could have done a lot worse. The film’s message may not be new, or
surprising, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a worthy one.