Robots and Androids and Aliens, Oh My!
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| Image description: On the left, Data the android (portrayed by Brent Spiner) from Star Trek: The Next Generation and on the right, the holographic doctor (portrayed by Bob Picardo) from Star Trek: Voyager. Data, The Doctor, and other examples from Star Trek and beyond show us the challenges that non-human characters present when analyzed from an aspec point of view. |
As a fan of sci-fi and fantasy, I know that non-human
characters are excellent vehicles to explore ourselves and the issues of our
world through new, unique lenses. The ways these characters encourage us to
examine what it means to be alive and the universal qualities we all share is a
wonderful storytelling tool with immense transformative power. However, it
becomes disappointing to realize that very often there is no room left for
non-sexual beings to be seen and respected, even within these fantasy spaces. Other
times, when we do see non-sexual characters, their role as “outsiders” who
don’t understand human emotion paints them using a variety of aphobic tropes.
This becomes especially true in sci-fi, where the only characters who are
non-sexual tend to be robots, aliens, and other similar beings.
The question of whether or not these non-human entities
constitute good asexual/aromantic representation is a complex one – and one I’ve mentioned in passing before. While I have encountered some non-human characters
who are nevertheless good ace representation, too often this type of
representation can be cringeworthy, troubling, or somewhat tedious. When these
types of characters offer some of the only ace and aro representation out
there, it can set a bad precedent, making it seem like those identities are
outside of the realm of human experience. This is especially highlighted for non-romantic
or non-sexual characters who are robots specifically, since being unemotional machines is a frequent trope lobbied against aspec people in the real world.
Seeing it reproduced in sci-fi media, therefore, is an uncomfortable reminder
of the stereotypes we face when we should be able to find escapism in these
fantastic worlds. Even so, there is still the potential for thoughtful
exploration even with such characters; however, even worse than problematic
representation is the fact that many of the non-human characters we see aren’t
even allowed to be asexual representation, problematic or otherwise. Rather,
they are inexplicably shown to be sexually functional, to have sexual desires,
or to harbor the hope that achieving these things will make them more human.
This topic is so broad that I cannot possibly cover every
example. Instead, I am going to primarily examine characters and situations
from my go-to sci-fi franchise of choice – you guessed it, Star Trek –
but TV Tropes has tropes like “What Measure Is A Non-Human?”, “What Is This Thing You Call ‘Love?’” and “Oblivious to Love” that dive deeper into the topic
(scroll with caution, some things might be triggering).
Star Trek: The Original Series ("What Are Little Girls Made Of?"; "The Apple")
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As stated above, non-human ace and aro characters can often be
problematic because they make asexuality and aromanticism seem like something
outside of the “norm”. But Star Trek often uses alien races - like the
Cardassians and Bajorans, for instance, whose conflict centers on the themes of oppression
and displacement - to tell meaningful stories. Therefore, I believe it’s
possible to do asexual aliens or other non-human entities well – meaning they are
treated with respect and care. Unfortunately, it is far more common to see
non-human species or individuals fall victim to aphobic tropes. Think, for
instance, of the Vaalians from Star Trek: The Original Series episode “The
Apple”. If their race had been played as something other than childlike savages
under the control of an evil computer, “The Apple” could have been a
fascinating exploration of a non-sexual culture. Instead, it serves as an
excellent example of why non-human asexual characters can be so dangerous. The
scant few other asexual races we see in Star Trek are likewise not
portrayed with much depth; rather, they are portrayed as failing to understand
the concept of love or as simply just reproducing asexually, such as through budding,
for instance. For the most part, these races are used as one-off mentions or
appear through one-episode characters, never to be seen or analyzed again. But
what about non-human characters that are series regulars, like Data in Star
Trek: The Next Generation and The Doctor from Star Trek: Voyager?
The former is an android constructed to look human while the latter is a
hologram, also made to look human, and they both go through the struggle to be
seen as valued equals by their crews. But for both of them, this also means
undertaking steps to learn more human qualities, including sexuality.
As discussed in my “Sex = An Essential Part of Humanity”
trope post, Data is established as being “fully functional” (cringe) in episode
two of TNG and is programmed with a “wide-variety of pleasuring techniques”
(double cringe). This stands strangely at odds with the sometimes-childlike nature of Data’s character, an attribute which the writers often stated was purposeful as a storytelling device, making the entire thing even more bizarre.
Honestly, it’s hard to say for sure which would be more problematic – having
Data be able to perform sex acts, or having him be innocent of sex entirely.
Both avenues play into aphobic stereotypes, which is the exact reason why it
can be perilous having non-sexual characters who are also non-human. By writing
androids as lacking basic human emotion or understanding, but making them
sexual, the writers of various sci-fi media seem to be making a commentary on
what they think is most essential. We see that sex was supposed to be an
inherent part of Data’s program from the get-go in the much later episode
“Inheritance,” where it is revealed his creator even designed sexuality programs
for him. I will be discussing Data in more detail in my next post, including
more about how he was programmed and why he lacks emotion; for now, however,
suffice to say that such plot points demonstrate that this is what the writers
intended as an inherent part of his journey to be human as well.
Although similar in some ways to Data, the circumstances
surrounding Voyager’s Doctor are a bit different. During the first
episode of Star Trek: Voyager, the titular ship is thrown into an
uncharted region of space, leading to the deaths of several crew members,
including the ship’s medical staff. Luckily, the ship is equipped with an
Emergency Medical Hologram, who eventually becomes known simply as “The Doctor”
and serves as Voyager’s chief medical officer for the rest of the
series. In The Doctor’s case, he is not programmed with much in terms of a
personality due to his status as an emergency hologram, and thus his sexuality
is something he comes to on his own rather than through design. I don’t necessarily
have a problem with this. What I do have a problem with is, once again, the
fact that The Doctor discovering sexuality is framed as a step towards him
becoming a fully actualized individual.
The Doctor’s sexual and romantic relationships are played up
throughout the show as him “overcoming the limitations” of his original
programming. In one episode, he even meets a newer version of his program and
boasts about the things he’s done since being activated, a list that ends
with, “I’ve even had sexual relations.” The other hologram replies with shock,
saying they weren’t programmed for sex, to which The Doctor replies that he’s
made “an addition” to his program, which the other hologram requests be added to
his program as well. Later, the newer model laments what he believes is certain
doom by saying “no time to explore the universe, no time to smell the roses, no
time for sex.” In theory, both Voyager’s Doctor and this newer program
should both be asexual – after all, they literally do not have sex as part of
their programs, so they literally do not experience sexual attraction.
Therefore, the notion that they’re eager to experience sex is a little strange.
Even more strange, the sexual encounter The Doctor mentions
in this episode is only ever mentioned here. Prior to this episode, we do see
The Doctor have two romantic encounters – one with a hologram from a holonovel
and the other with a woman named Danara, a critically sick alien whose
consciousness The Doctor projects into a hologram in order to prolong her life
while he seeks treatment for her. According to the Star Trek-specific
wiki Memory Alpha, this comment about sex is referring to Danara, with whom
The Doctor falls in love in the episode "Lifesigns", but their sexual liaison is never mentioned
at that time. What is mentioned, however, is likewise a little strange when you
consider what I said before about The Doctor’s program. In "Lifesigns",
the longer The Doctor spends with Danara’s hologram, the more he becomes
attracted to her, a sensation which he believes is his program malfunctioning; his
assistant, however, believes his program is adapting. The Doctor objects,
saying he doesn’t like that this feeling is affecting him, even when his
assistant describes romance as “the most wonderful thing in life.”
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| Image description: The Doctor with Danara from the episode "Lifesigns," a relationship which is apparently sexual in nature, something accomplished thanks to The Doctor modifying his program - and evidently Danara's as well. Image obtained from TrekCore |
Later, when The Doctor does decide to pursue a romance with Danara, he says that the more time he spends with her, the more his program continues to adapt to the romance, which becomes cringeworthy when sex gets added into the equation. The shame of it is that The Doctor and Danara’s relationship is actually very sweet, but the fact that The Doctor sees the romance/sex adaptation as a huge step forward that gives him purpose beyond his job is sad because it makes it seem like the other relationships he’s formed with the crew don’t matter. This is especially disheartening when we consider that there was an entire episode, “Projections,” about this very thing earlier in the same season. In that episode, a malfunction makes The Doctor believe he’s human and that Voyager is just a simulation. While the crew tries to convince him of his identity, someone else asks, “how would you rather think of yourself? A real person […] or a hologram?”
The entire episode is about a sense of identity and what’s
real versus unreal; on more than one occasion, The Doctor refers to the entire
thing as trying to figure out “what he is,” a journey I’ve pointed out (and
drawn aspec parallels to) with other characters such as Cole, the spirit boy
from Dragon Age. Just like Cole, The Doctor faces the notion that, because he is not a flesh and blood human, his existence is somehow less valid. And in this case, the delusion that he’s a “real” person comes with
romance. Therefore, the question of “how would you rather think of yourself?”
carries with it the implication that The Doctor’s holographic existence is one
devoid of love and thus sad, when that is simply not the case. In fact, one of
the crew members who attempts to rescue The Doctor refutes that notion by
saying, “It doesn’t matter what you’re made of, what matters is who you are.
You’re our friend and we want you back.”
Both the delusion of The Doctor’s romance being part of what makes him whole
and his reaction to his later real romance with Danara are unfortunate examples of how
media often frames sex and/or romance as the ultimate pinnacle that must be reached in order to live a fulfilling life. This is another of the many reasons why
non-human aspec characters can be perilous, because it becomes that much easier
for other characters to put this limitation on them and keep them from being
seen as worthy of respect. When media frames the sexual/romantic development of
these characters as the requirement for their being treated with true equality,
it makes those things seem acceptable in the real world too. Not only that, but
it can make aspec people feel as though they too are missing something from
their human experience, which makes it harder to fight back against instances
of dehumanization that happen in day-to-day life.
Star Trek again gives us an example of this with a
character who isn’t non-human per se, but rather a human whose humanity was
stripped from them: the ex-Borg, Seven of Nine from Star Trek: Voyager.
Part of what makes the Borg so terrifying is the way they abduct and essentially
mutilate the people they assimilate; various Trek series have shown us
the extent of the bodily torment the Borg inflict on their victims when we see
people whose limbs have been removed and replaced with robotic ones. Due to
various plot points in Voyager, as well as Seven of Nine’s status as a
series regular, we see this even more clearly through her. For instance, so
extensive are Seven’s cybernetic implants, that we see at various times that
parts of her body are completely fake due to them having been removed by the
Borg. Sometimes these body parts are used as prop-like plot devices, such as in
the episode “Timeless” where we see that an entire part of Seven’s head is
artificially constructed, including one of her eyes. In other episodes, like
“Imperfection,” we see how much technology is left underneath Seven’s skin and
how easy it is for certain removed cybernetic implants to reassert themselves.
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| Image description: Yes, that is The Doctor holding the artificial part of Seven of Nine's head in the episode "Timeless" (long story, don't ask). Yes, it is somewhat creepy. Image obtained from TrekCore |
In spite of this, however, it seems Seven still has functioning sex organs somehow. The notion that the Borg are unconcerned with taking entire parts of people’s bodies yet would leave their sex organs functional is absurd, as is the notion that Seven would be able to – or even want to – have sex. But even if we imagine that Seven’s romantic relationships are not sexual, we are still left with several glaring implications that removing her Borg implants could allow such a thing in future, and even let her have children someday. These plot points don’t just strain my suspension of disbelief, they also serve as a barrier to Seven. Like Data and The Doctor before her, plot points like these are essentially saying it doesn’t matter how much Seven has developed – as long as she still has her Borg tech, she’s not fully human and doesn’t need to be treated as such. In addition to the ways Seven’s non-organic components are often used as props or plot devices, there are many ways in which Seven is dehumanized in general by the crew through their actions and words. Although Seven eventually becomes comfortable with being both human and Borg, the rest of the crew are often selective about how they refer to her – she is Borg when they need to use her, are frustrated with her, etc. and she is human when they want her to change and evolve. In essence, they dehumanize her while trying to humanize her at the same time, a bizarre concept that I think tends to happen entirely too often with non-human or partially human characters.
It is for this reason that robotic characters are often such
a dichotomy. They are either completely oblivious to love, sex, or, in some
media, aren’t even anatomically correct; or they have been built with sex
organs and the ability to have sex/evolve to reach that point. Think, for
instance, of the cybernetic Cylons in the sci-fi series Battlestar Galactica,
whose 2004 remake involves the humanoid Cylons having sexual relations –
particularly when it comes to Cylon model Six, whose appearance is that of an
attractive woman. The Cylons of BSG are more complex than a lot of the robots
and androids we see on Star Trek – they bleed, they feel pain, they can even
sexually reproduce (which I will never understand, but anyway) – and that only
serves to make them more of a paradox. Their role as the primary antagonists of
the series makes exploring them in detail tough and often strange. I suppose
one bright side is that, given they are the villains, the writers did not chose
to have them be totally incapable of love or sex and tie it into their evilness,
as we see with other aliens and robots in sci-fi media. However, once again we
are left to ponder the implications of what it means to make robots with the
ability to have sex, proving that even though non-human ace representation can
be cringey, often times we are not even allowed to have that.
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| Image description: The Six model of humanoid Cylon, pictured with the more robotic Cylon centurions, from 2004's Battlestar Galactica remake - quite the stark contrast even between the same type of robot, no? In theory, because there are various individual Cylons within each model, not all of the humanoids have to be sexual, but we rarely see ones that aren't. |
Furthermore, sometimes portraying these characters as sexual
is not only problematic from an aspec point of view, but simply hair-raising in
general. The female androids in “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” in Star Trek:
The Original Series, for example, are described as being programmed to
follow orders of a presumably sexual/romantic nature. As such, trying to
incapacitate one of them involves Kirk kissing her. We see this happen in
holodeck situations too, in which holograms are made specifically for the
purpose of sex. And yet plot points surrounding characters like Data and The
Doctor are all about how androids and holograms should be treated with the same
rights as humans. Therefore, the idea of taking someone who should have the
same rights as a human and then programming them to exist simply for sex is
extremely disturbing. And yet, when Data is programmed with sexuality over
emotion, it is treated as completely normal.
The paradoxical challenges that robots, aliens, and others
present are not insurmountable, however. But these problems will only be solved
when these characters are respected and allowed to be what they are without being
changed. In the very last episode of The Next Generation, the omnipotent
character Q describes humanity’s destiny by saying, “that is the exploration
that awaits you… charting the unknown possibilities of existence.” As we do
that – and as we watch new and diverse characters of all kinds do that in our
media – I hope we can come to learn that that is an accomplishment and a
purpose in itself. I hope we can come to understand that, as we chart those
possibilities, it is possible to have non-sexual characters of all kinds help guide
the way.
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