‘Ad Astra per Aspera’: How we escape from hardship into wonder

Last week, I gave the opening episode of Strange New Worlds (SNW) Season Two a bit of a pass: I called it a “mission statement” more than a typical outing from this version of the Enterprise. The plot and script seemed intent on solidifying character gains from the first season, and there were whole sections that felt more like thematic touchstones than realist outings. Taken together, they promised a season that would grapple with serious ethical issues from a place of great self-confidence in who each character was.

So how did this mission statement play out in “Ad Astra per Aspera”?

The SNW team set a huge challenge for itself this week, by choosing to confront two of Star Trek’s biggest weaknesses in world-building: the Federation’s draconian laws around genetic modification (canon since The Original Series), and the incredibly wobbly relationship Starfleet and the Federation have around systems of justice.

No, really: the latter is so bad, I have to call fellow Trekkies’ attention to this spoof of life as a lawyer aboard a starship. Trekkies have a long tradition of pointing out boring jobs in the universe (thank you, Chief O’Brien at Work!), but for an aspirational utopia, the Federation really falls apart whenever it comes to imagining how better justice systems might play out in a few hundred years.

Will there always be a time and place for adversarial proceedings, in keeping with many judicial standards around the world today? Perhaps.

But how utopic can a world truly be, if it still involves throwing people into brigs and prison colonies, and if bridge captains who routinely interfere in other interplanetary affairs are then faced, at best, with stodgy court martial proceedings closer to home?

Star Trek has always reflected a level of overconfidence in the US/Western status quo of the late 20th century. Yes, the project of “America” might have needed a little smoothing out, a little more diversity (as per 1960s Trek), but its liberal project of discovery and exploration was more or less sound, was it not? Surely the rule of law that lives as a gut feeling in Westerners is more or less the right moral code?

My favorite episode on legal matters is one in which Star Trek admits its own limits to justice. At the end of “The Survivors” (TNG S3E03), Captain Jean-Luc Picard realizes the sheer scope of the crime committed by a being with god-like powers, and acknowledges his inability to offer any recourse for such an immense transgression. TNG also begins with humanity itself standing trial, as Q challenges the Enterprise to prove the Federation’s fitness to be allowed to wander the greater universe.

And why not? In a truly alien cosmos, there should be many encounters with different standards of justice. From Miles O’Brien undergoing a Cardassian tribunal where guilt is presumed at the outset (DS9 S2E25), to a philosphical trial called “t’kal n’ket” playing out in a future version of Vulcan and Romulan society (Discovery S3E07), Star Trek frequently imagines other species’ judicial practices.

But against the marvels of the universe, the Federation’s own legal systems seem at once antiquated and simplistic, which makes episodes on home turf difficult to pull off. “The Measure of a Man” (TNG S2E09), in which Data’s right to self-determination is on trial, involves sloppy hand-waving to explain why so much of the bridge crew is roped into courtroom roles. (A shortage of legal staff? No ability to pull off remote counsel?) Conversely, “The First Duty” (TNG S5E19), a formal inquiry involving Starfleet cadets, offers nuanced discussion about the extra-judicial implications of a legal incident.

This latest legal outing, though, is expressly informed by the costume design, court features, and state presence found in “Court Martial” (TOS S1E20), where Captain Kirk stands accused of negligent death in the case of a crewmate. Viewers today might not have the same history of exposure to courtroom dramas, but long before TV shows created hybrid intrigues involving crime scene investigators and detectives, there was a strong cinematic tradition of letting a story play out centrally in the courtroom, and Star Trek draws here on that narrative tradition.

This kind of storytelling is much more difficult to pull off today, though. In a world of relentless media spin around active court cases, can we really suspend disbelief long enough to imagine a pristine courtroom experience on future Earth?

That’s the challenge SNW faces, while trying to tell its latest moral tale.

If one’s family customs involve genital mutilation, or sending one’s children into active combat scenarios, how much would simply saying “It’s cultural” serve as adequate defense against exclusion?

Establishing the stakes (Spoiler-free zone)

Number One, Una Chin-Riley, has been charged with failing to disclose her status as an Illyrian, along with two related counts of sedition. These events carry forward from “Ghosts of Illyria” (S1E03), when her genetically modified culture of origin made Una distinctly resilient to a virus tearing through the crew. Starfleet offers Una a plea deal: admit her guilt, and receive a dishonorable discharge but no prison time.

Una wants to refuse this deal, but counsel doesn’t have her best interests at heart. That’s why Captain Pike has traveled to an Illyrian settlement to recruit Neera Ketoul (Yetide Badaki), a lawyer who only grudgingly takes Una’s case. Ketoul loathes the Federation for what it’s done to her people, and disapproves of Una’s decision to try to hide who she was to join Starfleet. Nevertheless, Pike’s admission that he was wrong to support a bad law helps to win Ketoul’s assistance in a case that might help this legal advocate with her other clients, too.

When Una refuses the plea deal, though, Starfleet prosecution goes hard. They’re now asking for up to 20 years on a penal colony, and hinting at bringing others down with her. If Pike takes the stand, he’ll be asked how long he knew about Una’s identity, and this could be grounds for a conspiracy charge that would break up the crew.

La’an Noonien-Singh, the ship’s Chief of Security and Una’s dear friend, wants to help. She thinks if they can figure out who leaked Una’s status, they can get the case thrown out on a technicality. She tries to enlist communications officer Uhura to tap into private logs, but Uhura refuses the illegal order.

On the stand, Ketoul goes hard against Admiral Robert April (Adrian Holmes): a friendly witness who was hoping to speak to Una’s exemplary record, but who instead became the site of Ketoul’s critique of Starfleet’s arbitrary laws. General Order 1 (the Prime Directive) states that “No starship may interfere with the normal development of any alien life or society.” So why is it acceptable for Starfleet to waive that order as it sees fit, while seeking to punish an Illyrian for being who they are?

Admiral April defends the difference between breaking General Order 1 and not wanting to break Regulation 17, Article 12, by highlighting that the point is to save lives. In Earth’s history, the Eugenics Wars killed millions. The ban on permanent modifications seeks to prevent another such brutal episode. So yes, if he had known that Una was Illyrian, he would never have supported her application to Starfleet.

The court is not happy about Ketoul’s gambit, and strikes April’s testimony from the record. Having burned an ally and gotten nowhere, Ketoul and the Enterprise seem at a loss for saving Una’s career under Starfleet’s adherence to the Code.

Challenging expectations (Spoiler zone)

Trekkies know that Khan Noonien-Singh was a human Augment (see: Easter Eggs), so we’re not at all surprised when La’an, a distant relation, visits Ketoul to try to help with Una’s case. La’an delivers an analog version of Starfleet Code, and admits to having mentioned Una’s Illyrian status in a private entry. Ketoul alleviates La’an guilt and fear over her own genetic inheritance, and reassures her that her private log didn’t betray Una. The person who leaked Una’s status clearly had something they thought they could gain from the action.

In court, we’re given glowing testimonials from the Enterprise crew (a clear attempt to give other characters some screen time), but the main thrust of Ketoul’s argument draws from Una’s own testimony about why she joined Starfleet, and her life as an Illyrian. Una explains that she was enamored by Starfleet’s promise: the idea of rising above hardship through shared wonder in the stars (giving us our title, “Ad Astra per Aspera”). She also describes persecution for Illyrian families, and includes mention of one Ivan Ketoul, a ten-year-old arrested with his family once discovered.

Una explains how this escalating persecution made even procuring simple medical aid dangerous for people living in secret. (Apparently genetic enhancements don’t help with all forms of recovery.) Her Federation-aligned society then segregated between Illyrians and non-modified people, and Una’s family slipped into the more acceptable half of her society because it could “pass” (for which she also apologizes to Ketoul, on the stand; she regrets having left everyone else behind).

Ketoul then pushes Una to admit that she turned herself in to Starfleet. Surprise! After growing up in a family that could pass as non-Illyrian, and hiding for 25 years in service, Una finally wanted to be seen for who she really is.

In cross examination, the Vulcan counsel, Vice Admiral Pasalk (Graeme Somerville), dismisses Una’s emotional appeal and tragic backstory as irrelevant to the facts and the law. He compels Una to admit that Pike was aware of her status for months, putting Pike at risk of conspiracy charges.

But this attempted “gotcha” plays right into Ketoul’s plan. She pulls out Starfleet Code 8514: the three-part structure outlining procedures for asylum-seekers. Those fearing persecution are welcome to flee it, to present themselves to a Starfleet captain, and to have their bid for asylum confirmed by a tribunal or designated authority.

Under these parameters, Ketoul argues that a loophole for Una’s case exists: having already fulfilled the first two components of the asylum statute, the court simply needs to fulfill the third, and everyone can go on their merry way. And this is of course what they do. Admiral Javas (Nicky Guadagni), speaking for the court, affirms that “lines must be drawn, but they must also shift when necessary.” This allows Starfleet’s draconian rule to remain in place (as it must for overall continuity in the universe), while also reinstating Number One to the Enterprise.

Ketoul leaves, emphasizing that this is only a start to the work ahead.

Humanist narrative structure?

A lot of deeply personal choices are made to heighten the stakes here: some in-universe, and some very conscious of the viewing audience.

In-universe, we have an Illyrian lawyer who doesn’t want to defend an Illyrian who decided to deepen their participation in an oppressive culture, and who chose to hide their identity for years. Ketoul needs to see signs of change from Pike to agree to take part at all, and even then she initially wants to bring the whole system down, before finding a loophole that will save just one person for now.

But Ketoul is also played by a Black actor, defending a white(ish) character persecuted for being from a culture of genetic enhancement, and this makes a huge difference for our 21st century viewership. When Ketoul argues about unjust laws, and invokes histories of oppression like slavery and racism, she is lending the strength of real-world activism to this fabricated case about the Illyrians.

And the visual impact is pretty blatant. Admiral April is also played by a Black actor, so when he argues that he would not have supported Una’s application if he had known about her status, because he believes that the genetic augmentation ban saves lives, Ketoul’s answering line has an extremely provocative added layer:

“So,” she says. “You admit that the reason for your decision is not law, but fear and racial prejudice.” The court is immediately outraged on April’s behalf, and we should be, too. Wasn’t the whole genetics business presented as cultural? A tradition that some families upheld and some did not, after the ban? Why is the word “racial” being thrown into an argument between two Black actors?

To complicate matters further, many of our real-world persecutions were strongly tethered to eugenicist movements. The idea of genetically enhancing someone has been de-fanged here in SNW, rebuilt as a mere cultural issue: a family “heritage” carried out in customs and rituals before birth or in early childhood, which eventually become difficult to undo. But if one’s family customs involve genital mutilation, or sending one’s children into active combat scenarios, how much would simply saying “It’s cultural” serve as adequate defense against exclusion?

Here, the writers chose a lazy narrative strategy to defend a thin argument. Just as an Indigenous character was used in Voyager as the mouthpiece for forgiving recent colonizers (S2E14), and just as Tuvok (played by a Black actor) became our sole advocate for the death penalty (S2E16), so too has Ketoul’s real-world identity been leveraged to bolster the rhetorical heft of an on-screen stance. I mean, if the person who comes from histories of oppression affected by eugenics says it’s okay…

Even the way this episode configures Una’s contrition is self-serving. Her family could “pass” in a way that Ketoul’s family never could, so she’s given an opportunity to apologize for coming much later to the struggle against oppression. The real-world contrast with white feminism is obvious, and although Ketoul emphasizes that her apology is a start, there isn’t much of a sense of where the struggle goes from here. Now that Una is back aboard the Enterprise… is that it? Is that all she’s ever going to do to help other Illyrians iced out from the Federation?

‘Ad Astra per Aspera’: the thematic payoff

It was always going to be a challenge to address the Federation’s anti-genetic-augmentation laws within canon. The standards established around court proceedings and punishments in-universe also present a Herculean challenge for people trying to update Star Trek in light of ideas around rehabilitative justice today.

Within this rigid framework, director Valerie Weiss and writer Dana Horgan did an adequate job. They also get a few brownie points for foregrounding the issue of asylum at a time when the US has advanced reprehensible changes to border policy that imperil this UN-backed human right.

But at its core, “Ad Astra per Aspera” is an episode about Federation justice not being good enough: because it isn’t. Because even if this is an aspirational utopia, so long as Earth’s justice systems remain this rigid and adversarial, what more meaningful restorative work can ever emerge from it? The very fact that throwing out a whole case on a technicality is still plausible in this century is a moral embarrassment: a poverty of the imagination for our far-flung future context.

And that impoverished mentality unfortunately runs deep in this episode. Consider, for instance, Una’s grand speech about what brought her to want to join Starfleet:

“To the stars, through hardship.” … I knew it meant we must endure hardship to get to the stars, but I like to think that it also means that the stars can deliver us from anything. That, in the mystery and vastness of space, we might not just satisfy our curiosity, our need for exploration, but that in it we might each also find salvation.

The “salvation” she seeks is something above and beyond the circumstances of her birth and cultural struggle. And I’m sure the writing team was convinced they had a bang-up inspirational quote in the above.

However, this quote represents a wholly misguided approach to our cosmos, and to the lessons we can learn from our exploration of it. The stars do not have the answers. They do not offer us salvation. We are the dreamers of better dreams, and it’s only by broadening our sense of what’s possible—through creative outings and real-world study alike—that we can push for a more just world here and now.

This is why I can’t give more than two happy humans this week. “Ad Astra per Aspera” wasn’t only restricted by a great deal of challenging canon, but also by many narrative moves that glossed over the most potent humanist issues at its core.

Quotes of note, and Easter Eggs

• “Ad Astra per Aspera” was the motto for Starfleet before the Federation. It also shows up in To Kill a Mockingbird, a classic courtroom drama framed around the arduous US struggle for racialized justice. In that text, it’s mistranslated by a character as “from the mud to the stars” instead of “to the stars through hardship”. But “mud” certainly better reflects the messiness of human cruelty that we often have to wade through for change!
• Although some attempts at inspirational speech didn’t pan out, Ketoul offers this winner in the episode: “If a law is not just, then I ask: how are we to trust those who created that law to serve justice?” She also notes that “Starfleet is not a perfect organization, but it strives to be.” The question is, how much is it actually striving to improve? Star Trek tends to focus on the bridges of various ships and stations, while administrators back on Earth show very little interest in applying the fruits of far-off voyages to advancing more enlightened Federation practices. Is that a bug or a feature in this world?
• In the long, “proud” tradition of Star Trek relentlessly pulling from 20th century arts references, Spock teases the court (he’s definitely engaging his human side!) by admitting that Una was originally hiding her love of Gilbert & Sullivan musicals.
• Khan Noonien-Singh was a Human Augment and a key part of the Eugenics Wars. Did you know that between 1992 and 1996 he was the absolute ruler of over a quarter of the Earth’s population, in Asia and the Middle East? Star Trek retro-histories are fun. Next year we’ll be living the future described by “Past Tense” (DS9 S3E11-12), when Sisko and his team arrive days before the “Bell Riots” in the ghettoized Sanctuary District of San Francisco.

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds

Season 2, Episode 1: “The Broken Circle”

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