Self-Interest and Sacrifice on Stargate Atlantis

I think it's fairly well-known around here that I'm a fan of science fiction, and I'm not terribly picky about it. I'll watch just about anything that's not terrible, and even then I'm liable to enjoy the unintentional humor. As such, I've long watched the Stargate franchise, even though it's as often mindless as profound. But this week's episode was a notable exception (ok, obligatory Spoiler Warning):

For those who haven't watched the series, Stargate Atlantis centers on a team of soldiers and scientists who have travelled to the Pegasus galaxy (via a portal created millenia ago... long story) to look for the lost city of Atlantis (even longer story). Upon arrival there, they discover that the galaxy is in fact full of humans (longer story still) who are enslaved by a race of evil people-eating aliens called the Wraith (don't ask). Oh, and everyone speaks English! So anyway... our noble heroes take it upon themselves to try to free said galaxy from said wicked villains, leading to all sorts of entertaining but impossible adventures.

Now--if you've finished rolling your eyes--in this week's episode the team is visiting a planet, offering medical services, and being all good-neighborly. Suddenly a large group of Wraith arrive and demand that the locals turn over some refugees, threatening that if they refuse the entire town will be destroyed (apparently, there's only one town on this planet?). Predictably, the town is divided over this little moral dilemma. Some claim that to give in would make them no better than the Wraith; others insist that it's better to sacrifice a few--outsiders no less--than to let everyone be killed, including the refugees.

At this point the heroes offer a way out: They will help evacuate the town and relocate everyone to another planet. Noble folks that they are, they even offer to risk their own lives to fight off the Wraith to enable this escape. But of course, this only presents yet another dilemma: The townspeople must now decide whether to give up their own livelihoods to save the lives of others, essentially to become refugees in order to save refugees.

Put like that, it's easy see what the noble thing to do is, but what is noble and what actually happens is rarely the same thing. After all, our own world is full of dying people whom we could help if only we'd be willing to reduce our own standard of living and give. We needn't even join them in poverty; you can save a life for just a dollar a day. But they're all strangers, and we don't have to look them in the face as we choose our comfort over their lives. In theory, we're willing to help, but it takes effort and sacrifice, and too often self-interest wins out, whether our own or someone else's.

And so it was on the show. Though the town agreed with the plan to flee in theory, before anyone acted to help a few men took it upon themselves to form a brute squad and turn over a few of the refugees. Though they are arrested, by then there are too many Wraith for the original escape plan to work. So what happens next? Some heroic deeds to save the day and clean up this messy moral dilemma without sacrifice? Hardly. The mayor sneaks into the prison and tells them where the remaining refugees are hiding. He then lets them go and, predictably, they lead the Wraith right to the place. When they get inside, however, they find it empty and rigged with explosives. So the villains are killed. Our "heroes" are able to fight off the remaining Wraith and evacuate the town before more can arrive. The credits roll. Another victory for the "good guys."

And isn't that exactly how it goes in the real world as well? We in the West would like to help but, as nations if not as individuals, we let others make the sacrifice for us (or force them into it). Despite all our good intentions, most of the time we can't or won't prevent others from doing the dirty work for us while we live in relative comfort and sleep soundly at night. Sometimes we may throw the worst offenders in jail, but just as often we let our leaders quietly pat them on the hand and send them on their way--to kill or be killed. For either way, a sacrifice always has to be made, and if we are not willing to make it ourselves, there's usually someone else to make it for us. Some young soldiers perhaps? Or a child we'll never meet? Or maybe some "criminal" we can all villainize and execute in our place? Or does that only happen on TV?

Romans 2 Remix

With apologies to Saint Paul:

You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things.... God “will give to each person according to what he has done.” To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life. But for those who are self-seeking and who reject the truth and follow evil, there will be wrath and anger. There will be trouble and distress for every human being who does evil: Not only for non-Christians, but also for Christians; but glory, honor and peace for everyone who does good: Not only for Christians, but also for non-Christians. For God does not show favoritism....

Now you, if you call yourself a Christian; if you rely on the Bible and brag about your relationship to God; if you claim to know his will and approve of what is superior because you are instructed by the Bible; if you are convinced that you are a guide for the blind, a light for those who are in the dark, a “religious right,” or a “moral majority,” because you have in the Bible the embodiment of knowledge and truth--you, then, who teach others, do you not teach yourself? You who preach against stealing, do you steal? You who say that people should not commit adultery, do you commit adultery? You who abhor idols, do you rob temples? You who brag about the Bible, do you dishonor God by breaking its commands? As it is written: “God's name is blasphemed among the non-Christian world because of you.” (Modified from Romans 2:1, 6-11, 17-24, based on the NIV. Partially inspired by James McGrath)

Self-Interest and Sacrifice in The Dark Knight

Relentless. From the opening bank heist on, The Dark Knight never lets up. There is no climax to this film, just a series of emotional peaks, each more terrifying than the previous. With hardly a moment’s pause—even the Joker gives little comic relief, though Morgan Freeman drops a couple zingers—the flawless action builds uncontrollably to a breathless conclusion as Gotham falls to the brink of confusion and terror. This reboot makes Tim Burton’s Batman seem like a light-hearted farce.

It’s being said that The Dark Knight is as much a crime drama as a superhero movie—and it is—but it’s also a terrifying psychological thriller, reveling in misdirection and reversal. At the heart of all its turmoil, of course, stands Heath Ledger’s Joker, compared to whom all previous supervillains look like sissies. Easily stealing the show from Christian Bale’s Batman, his truly wicked sense of humor and casual disregard for human life makes you believe that absolutely any horrific conclusion is possible.

Jeffrey Overstreet calls him “one of the greatest portrayals of the devil I’ve ever seen” and I must agree. But if Satan is said to be disguised as an angel of light, this greasy clown is what he must look like underneath: appallingly ugly, brilliantly misguided, unpredictably deceitful, delighting not only in chaos but corruption. The Joker doesn’t just want to destroy goodness; he wants to make it impossible. In forcing one terrible choice after another, he dares you to choose evil even while you try to prevent it. He creates fear not just to terrify, but to dehumanize, to make the most horrific sacrifice seem defensible, even necessary. He has no plan, he tells us, but he clearly has a goal—to win “Gotham’s soul,” to ensure that no one is left innocent. And he nearly succeeds.

But he doesn’t succeed, and that is why the film does. Set over against this horrible evil are three men in particular. New District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) is tough on crime and puts a wholesome face on justice. Lieutenant James Gordon (Gary Oldman at his best) is a tested cop and a family man. And, of course, Bruce Wayne and his Batman are a mystery, simultaneously a playboy and a vigilante to the world, but few know his true identity; in fact, it’s questionable whether even he does. Together these three attempt to restore order to Gotham, and their triumphs and failures form the real heart of the film and keep it from collapsing into nihilism.

Through them, The Dark Knight takes pains to emphasize that even “the best of us” can fall, but it also recognizes the grandeur and complexity of human nature. At one point it is suggested that Harvey Dent is the hero the city wants, a “white knight” they can believe in, while Batman must be more than a hero, a “dark knight” who can make the hard choices that no one else can. What precisely this “more” means is never quite spelled out, but in contrasting these two kinds of heroes (and both Dent and Wayne waver between them), the film seems to be suggesting two very different possibilities. One alternative retains the appearance of selflessness but hides a spreading moral ambiguity leading to the rejection of order for chance and self-interest, as the sacrifices of others are accepted as necessary to defeat evil. Such compromises, made by several characters at various points in film, could suggest that true evil, unmasked and unhinged, cannot be defeated without taint, even if one may appear the selfless hero on the surface.

But the film offers another alternative, a self-sacrifice which embraces the appearance of evil rather than its substance. To face the consequences of the sins of others is seen to be the only true answer to overwhelming evil. In short, if the Joker’s goal is to create a dilemma where the most attractive option is to “do evil that good may result,” several characters reject the appeal of self-interest and choose good even if evil may result. Too much is lost for any tidy dénouement, but in its melancholy conclusion, The Dark Knight suggests that to truly be “more than a hero,” one must be strong enough to take that fall and survive it, to courageously choose the right and noble even at great risk, to sacrifice oneself for the sake of others. This is the only ray of hope in the darkness of unrestrained evil.

The Dark Knight is rated PG-13, but it pushes the limit of the rating with intense and gruesome (though bloodless) violence. Do not make the mistake of the several people at our showing who (inexplicably) brought young children—every one of them left part way through with a crying and terrified child.

Selfishness and Sacrifice in LOST: There’s No Place Like Home

I only started watching LOST a couple months ago, but thanks to ABC.com generously offering all four seasons in HD – for free! – I’ve been able to catch up in time to watch the last few episodes live, and man am I hooked. Last night’s season finale reminded me why this has become my new favorite show (sorry Battlestar). “There’s No Place Like Home” had everything I could want in a TV show: mystery and revelation, action and suspense, character and charm, and one shocker of an ending. As Carmen Andres has noted, however, perhaps the best thing about it was its exploration of the opposites of selfishness and sacrifice (spoiler warning).

“There's No Place Like Home” included a number of powerful moments of selfishness – especially when Ben callously murdered Keamy, knowing full well it could mean the deaths of everyone on the boat – and ultimate sacrifice, as when Michael and Jin stay behind to give the others a chance to escape before the boat is destroyed. As for Ben moving, and leaving, the island, we don’t yet know if that was truly a sacrifice, or yet more selfishness. But perhaps the most interesting aspect of this theme lay in the contrast between Jack and Sawyer.

Since the beginning, LOST has presented Jack and Sawyer as opposites: Jack has always been the selfless one, his only goal to ensure that his fellow castaways get home. Sawyer, on the other hand, has always been self-focused, concerned only for his own survival. Even their appearances reflected the contrast – Jack was always clean-cut and respectable, while Sawyer was gruff and uncivilized. But ever since Season Three ended with a drunk and bearded Jack, back in Los Angeles, actually hoping another plane will crash so that he might return to the island, their roles have been reversed. Throughout Season Four we’ve seen him descend from everything he stood for, most notably when he held a gun to Locke’s head and pulled the trigger in “The Beginning of the End.” Now in the two-part Season Finale we find that three years after escaping the island, he has not only become a drunk, but has abandoned Kate and Aaron, and is willing to do just about anything – even trust Ben – to get back.

Meanwhile, Sawyer has moved the opposite direction, and broken free from his old selfishness. Again, we saw a hint of this (though not the first) at the end of Season Three, when Sawyer turned back to save Sayid, Jin and Bernard in “Through the Looking Glass.” His newfound nobility has also been seen, for instance, in “The Shape of Things to Come,” when he risked his life to save Claire from the attack on the Barracks. Now in the two-part finale, his transformation seems to be complete. In the first half, he turned Jack’s signature line (“live together or die alone”) against him, by insisting that “You don’t get to die alone.” Then in the second half, he does what even Jack was unwilling to do: sacrifice himself to save the rest in the helicopter. While Jack remains silent, it is Sawyer who tells Kate he loves her then gives up his chance to escape. I love the symbolism too: his plunge into the water seems a kind of baptism, which leads to new life for himself (back on the island) and for the rest (who escape on the helicopter). Jack, meanwhile, is nothing more than a spectator to this scene, and as we have seen – he comes to dearly regret that he too did not stay behind.

In so reversing Jack and Sawyer’s roles, LOST has not only presented a powerful image of the nature and results of these two essential options – life-giving sacrifice or soul-destroying selfishness – but also emphasized the inescapably present choice between them. The decision between selfishness and sacrifice is not once for all, but a constant demand. It doesn’t matter how noble Jack was, unless he continues to be so. It doesn’t matter how selfish Sawyer was; for today he can make a new start. Virtue is never satisfied with the past, but awaits each new decision. No one can rest on their past deeds as proof of their character or hope, and no one is so far lost that they can’t find their way home. Sawyer seems to have learned that, as did Michael and Charlie and many others before them; I just hope that Jack, too, will remember it before the end.