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The Case for More Analysis than Action: Star Trek, S1E16, "The Galileo Seven"

More Analysis Than Action

Let's talk about Bones.

The dynamic between him and Spock—human vs. alien, emotion vs reason, heart vs. head—and the way Kirk has to balance each perspective is remembered as one of the shining lights of Star Trek

That's not how I see it.

When the Galileo shuttlecraft departs the Enterprise to study a quasar-like formation, seven crew members, including Spock, Bones, and Scotty, are marooned on a planet and beset upon by primitive, bestial humanoids. With Spock in command, the episode explores his leadership style, dictated as it is by pure reason, or at least an exaggerated idea of what that might mean.

Let's start with what's good about this episode, because there is a lot of good stuff, despite how much it makes me hate Dr. McCoy.

More Analysis Than Action

First off, the world of Star Trek: TOS has never felt so close to what Trek became in the 80s and 90s. This is the first episode, I think, that takes the worldbuilding seriously and investigates how the crew of a starship would actually conduct their business. This might be the first mention of an M class planet. Also, Uhura provides useful info instead of just being there. On both the ship and the shuttle, characters beyond the main three feel like they're contributing to the action and to the mission of exploration.

The quasar itself is named Murasaki 312. I like that American writers in the 60s were presuming non-European names might be current for future nomenclature. It's a small thing, but one that strikes me as so far beyond contemporary fiction, including other Star Trek episodes. Although, Phillip K. Dick was imagining similar sorts of pan-cultural futures at the same time, so maybe it's not that revolutionary. Good on them nonetheless.

By the same token, the audience surrogate character, the one who asks questions the audience might ask and who emotes most about the dangers surrounding the crew and the deaths of two men, is a black science officer. Again, unremarkable today, but part of what made Star Trek so rich a cultural touchstone for progressive ideology: its understanding of the power of positive representation. Plus, Don Marshall delivers a compelling performance as this character, Lt. Boma.

The central conflicts of the episode are strong too. There's a great ramping up of problems as the show moves on, making it the best-paced episode of TOS yet. First, the shuttle crashes. The Enterprise can't locate it. What's more, there's a firm timeline because the Enterprise is en route for a delivery. There’s a dignitary overseeing the mission who will forcibly take command of the ship after 48 hours to ensure the timely transport of needed medical supplies. Meanwhile, the shuttle is low on fuel and overweight: some crew members will have to stay behind. Then the hostile aliens show up. There's disagreement between Spock and the rest of the crew about how to resist the attackers. There's damage in the shuttle, but a solution is found that will allow the whole crew to fly, but then the aliens become increasingly hostile. The shuttle makes it to orbit, but the Enterprise has moved on. A last minute gamble of lighting the shuttle's fuel up like a flare, and the day is saved. These are believable stakes that are continually ramping up within a dynamic scenario. There's far more plot development here than we usually get with TOS. Then there's the character conflicts, and this is where the episode is both most interesting and most frustrating.

This is where bigot McCoy comes in.

Once the shuttle crashes—no one's fault since they were conducting a standard scientific mission in keeping with Starfleet protocol—Bones begins his unprovoked assault on Spock's credentials as a leader. As always, Bones accuses Spock of being heartless and unfit for command as a result of it. Later, he says there is something literally wrong with Spock's heart.

Spock assumes logic will always win the day, but he miscalculates in numerous cases. First off, by upsetting crew morale by not mourning fallen comrades—he makes up for this near the end when he reluctantly allows Boma to bury a crewmate despite the dangers of doing so amidst alien attacks. Another miscalculation occurs when Spock believes he can merely scare off the creatures with a display of firepower; instead, the aliens are angered and emboldened to further aggression.

Bones and Boma supposedly display the superior value of emotion and empathy when they rescue Spock who is trapped by a thrown rock, just before the shuttle takes off. This "victory" is ridiculous, however, as this is the point when the equality of logic becomes most evident. (Also, the rescue effort takes a second, and Spock was just being dramatic.)

Earlier in the episode, Spock rejects the use of lots to determine who might have to stay behind on the planet, trusting instead to his logic for making a decision. This is naturally offensive to Boma, a lower ranking crew member. But Spock is "redeemed" at the end when he realizes that there are times to allow chance to have a role. His use of the fuel for a flare is a calculated risk, but a risk nevertheless.

I get the sense the episode wants us to recognize Spock's lack of empathy as a weakness, though it's actually his stubbornness—an emotional response—that truly holds him back from seeing the crew's perspective and seeking their opinions. At times, Spock does bully the crew, disparaging their emotional impulses and calling them fortunate that he is in command and not them. He never asks for advice, and he rarely explains his own actions until after the fact. In some ways, he is indeed a bad leader. Nevertheless, his decisions all make sense, even when things don't work as expected.

“My keen logic tells me this man is dead”

None of this excuses Bones.

As the next highest ranking officer, Bones's job should be to provide Spock support and advice. We've seen Spock frequently offer second opinions to Kirk, and he never does it with disdain or sarcasm. He respects Kirk's authority, even when in disagreement. Bones, by contrast, insults, criticizes, and undermines Spock at every turn. His contradicting opinions are valuable, but not when delivered as attacks on Spock's character. Deforest Kelley plays McCoy with such revulsion of Spock that we can believe an otherwise competent officer and Dr. could so lose his mind to racist thinking that he would turn against his leader rather than swallow his pride to serve the interests of the team.

On top of his hatred of Spock, I am get frustrated with Bones always over-helping the female crew members. Here, he assists Yeowman Mears out of the ship, presses against her when ducking projectiles, and helps her sit up after a minor injury. At this point, I am chalking it up to Bones's character more than the writing. He is just so into chivalry and all its associated infantilization of women.

The final proof of how hateful Bones is comes when the shuttle makes it to orbit. Their fate is sealed anyway because they only have under an hour before they'll crash-land once more. With this inevitability in mind, Bones taunts Spock: "Well, Mister Spock, so ends your first command." And later, once Spock ignites the fuel, "It may be the last action you'll ever take, Mister Spock, but it was all human." Perhaps this is meant to humanize Spock, but it comes out as another taunt, a condemnation of Vulcan logic as inferior, an incomplete mode of existence.

The writers pride Bones as being the human to Spock's alien, the man who is all heart, the healer. Really, he is a fraud. Instead of comforting the rest of the crew, he turns to spiteful jabs at Spock, who has only ever done what he thought was best for everyone.

A very scary episode!

Fortunately, Spock has the last word. Once everyone is safe aboard the Enterprise, Spock justifies his gambit in logical terms: "Quite simply, Captain. I examined the problem from all angles, and it was plainly hopeless. Logic informed me that under the circumstances, the only possible action would have to be one of desperation. Logical decision, logically arrived at."

Kirk retorts that Spock "reasoned that it was time for an emotional outburst."

To which Spock evasively responds, "Well, I wouldn't put it in exactly those terms, Captain, but those are essentially the facts."

So they agree on sense, but not language. When Kirk calls Spock too stubborn to admit he was irrational, Spock wholeheartedly agrees. This is a wonderful moment—if you edit out the entire crew laughing at Spock—because it reveals cracks in Spock's logical armor, adding depth and complication to the concept of Vulcan logic, challenging the possibility of anyone ever acting on pure logic. The Enterprise series would get a lot of mileage out of this idea.

This is a fun moment for worlbuilding that seems to get picked up in later stories. Spock's failures as a leader come in the way he fails to motivate the crew or improve their morale. All this makes a good case for why Vulcan officers don't show up more often in the later series. It's here established as more-or-less canonical that Vulcans are better suited to science over command.

There's a Deep Space Nine Vulcan captain that provides a rare exception. Sisko's rival Solok in "Take Me Out to the Holosuite" is uncharacteristically emotional and competitive for a Vulcan. No wonder he is the most prominent example of a Vulcan captain. He is capable of setting aside logic, to some extent, in order to make the more intuitive decisions Star Trek insists captains must make.

And he's almost as terrible a person as Bones.

Overall, I like this sort of episode far better than yet another episode of Kirk whinging about the strains of command while delegating nothing. Star Trek as a whole is frequently obsessed with what it means to be a leader. This is the first time the question is asked without pointing to Kirk's rugged, lonely manliness as the ideal.

Verdict: 8.5 terrifying foam spears out of 10