With just a handful of episodes left, Voyager digs up the rake marked “Indigenous Representation” and steps on it.
In fairness, I think Voyager‘s heart was in the right place. A shuttle accident introduces Chakotay and Seven to an uncontacted culture who were separated from their planetary mainstream by advanced aliens concerned that the “primitive” people would be exploited. Chakotay gets his anthropology on, Seven learns an important lesson about something or other, then there’s a dispute because — surprise! — the rest of the planet’s inhabitants do in fact still want to exploit the traditional people and their resources.
Conceptually, it’s solid Star Trek, and a story which is still relevant today. There are still a handful of uncontacted peoples in remote parts of the world. Some are remotely observed by cameras (which I find deeply uncomfortable); others are aware of the outside world and eager to be left alone (relatable).
The problem with “Natural Law” is that it falls into a handful of easily foreseeable traps: its depiction of the Ventu is racist, the story requires Chakotay to be slightly stupid, and you never get the impression that the writers actually believe in or care about the story they’re telling, or that they’ve done any research whatsoever into this issue.
Bringing out the racist pan pipes for the last hurrah
In fairness, the depiction of the Ventu could have been a lot more racist. They get better treatment than the primitive aliens of “Basics” part 2, to pick a random example. They get to be noble savages, with sophisticated herbal medicine that can cure broken bones, and lithe and curious young women who are only a little bit obsessed with touching Seven of Nine’s blonde hair. And sure, they’re in brownface, but isn’t it maybe more of an orangey tint…?
I’m not even being sarcastic. I do think this is a better portrayal of an “indigenous” culture than Voyager has managed in the past. The two Ventu we spend time with — Healer and Girl — are archetypes, but they’re written and played with a lot of dignity.
It’s just. You know. They don’t have names. Or voices.
Now, some real world Indigenous cultures do use sign languages — particularly in North America, where hand talk (Plains Indian Sign Language) was used as a lingua franca across a lot of disparate nations, and is still used today, though it is now an endangered language. I assume this was the inspiration for the Ventu’s language.
It’s not an intrinsically bad idea, but because we see it all through the eyes of Chakotay and Seven, our impression of the Ventu is necessarily simplistic. I think even a single scene where the Ventu use subtitled signs among themselves might have given them more nuance and sophistication — but I don’t think the idea of using sign language with subtitles was in the mainstream back then.
The problem really comes to a head in the conclusion, where Voyager decides to reinstall the barrier which isolated the Ventu without actually consulting with them. The Ventu get no agency at all.
Obviously, opening a dialogue with the Ventu, and giving them a choice in the matter, would make it a lot harder to wrap this story up in five minutes. Probably the Ventu themselves would be divided on the best option, and even if they somehow negotiated with the Ledosians to ensure their long-term well-being, how can we trust that the Ledosians would honour that treaty after Voyager left? You could get a whole season of modern Trek out of this concept if you dug deep enough. And I understand that the show wants us to feel like Voyager is warping away and not leaving disaster in her wake. But it’s an unsatisfying conclusion.
Chakotay is lucky that he’s pretty
‘Cos he ain’t smart.
I’ve talked before about how I like that Chakotay is an anthropologist/archaeologist/paleontologist. Two of these fields have long been used to objectify First Nations peoples, so having a First Nations anthropologist (etc) is a way of turning the tables, reclaiming that intellectual power.
Unfortunately, Voyager was written by white people, and I think it’s arguable that none of them had much of a background in anthropology.
In the nicest possible way, my man Chakotay is way too cavalier about making contact with the Ventu. It’s not just about contaminating their culture with new ideas, or having them mimic his tattoo and Seven’s implants — Chakotay, of all people, should be aware of the risk of introducing alien pathogens to people who do not have the medical technology to deal with them.
Like, we’re not supposed to think about Star Trek characters and toilets, but consider the bacteria in our gut biomes. It’s meant to be in our bodies, it keeps us functional, but one careless poop and you’ve accidentally done a genocide.
Chakotay’s also kind of starting a cargo cult as he trades pips for doodads. I don’t know what the appropriate behaviour in this situation would be, because I only did one semester of anthropology, but even in 2001, there were libraries, there were universities whose faculty a curious Star Trek writer could ring up, there were probably even easily-findable email addresses. But no one is thinking about any of that, and it shows.
Seven’s story is … fine
She has to walk through dense forest wearing high heels, which honestly feels like a workplace health and safety issue for Jeri Ryan. (I know it was just some potted plants on a sound stage, but still.) She investigates ponytails, which are a good look for her, and blankets. She makes friends with Girl, and learns an important lesson about appreciating scenery and respecting the intelligence of people who are not technologically advanced.
It’s all just fine. We’ve seen this before.
What’s new(ish) is that she’s interacting with Chakotay for the first time since we, the audience, learned she was using him for dating practice on the holodeck. That’s purely subtext here; despite being bound up in Voyager‘s Worst Arc, there’s no overt romance or attraction. There’s barely even friendship. Chakotay seems mildly fond of Seven, and Seven seems to more or less tolerate the real Chakotay.
Also, Tom has to have driving lessons
Imagine how much more deeply we could have explored the Ventu if we didn’t have this flimsy subplot!
Yes, it’s genuinely amusing, and also shows us how much Tom has grown, as he takes his lumps with grace. Yes, it finally ties into the A plot at the end, when Tom zooms in, beams the doodad away and fails his driving test. But did we need any of this? We absolutely did not.
Other observations
- I’m sorry, but the blanket that Girl (sigh) gives Seven is ugly, and it looks cheap. I’ve seen Native American fibre art, and Aboriginal fibre art, and Torres Strait Islander and Māori and Peruvian fibre art. A fuzzy brown blanket with a couple of dirty sequins on it is an insult.
- (Fibre art: it’s rad, actually.)
- Speaking of Girl, Autumn Reeser has a lot of presence in a role which requires her to be scantily clad and silent — I was not in the least bit surprised to see she has had a long career, and is still working now. Sometimes you see a kid in her second-ever role, and you just know she has it.
In conclusion
I don’t think this is a bad episode, and it’s barely offensive, but it’s also not good or inoffensive. Two and a half beads out of five.