Terminator and Philosophy: I'll Be Back, Therefore I Am (34 page)

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Authors: Richard Brown,William Irwin,Kevin S. Decker

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Why Me?
 
If appeals to the social contract, to the divine, and to utilitarianism fail to provide us with good reasons for John Connor to agree to lead the human resistance against the machines, is there
any
way of grounding an obligation for him to do so? One possibility that strikes me as particularly compelling is an account that roots John’s obligation to save humanity in the very conditions of meaningful human existence itself.
 
John’s rebirth as a leader is signaled by his symbolic resurrection at his mother’s pseudo-grave (the empty tomb, recalling Christian symbolism, and a uterine symbol) with the help of a pseudo-father (the T-101) sporting a massive pseudo-phallus (the machine gun). First entering the coffin after a pseudo-strangulation (the death of his old self), John emerges from his mother’s box, reborn as a fighter to be reckoned with.
23
 
At the outset of this process of rebirth, when John asks the Terminator, “Why me?” the Terminator responds simply by saying, “You are John Connor.” On one level, this response simply affirms the facts of history. On another level, it can be understood as the Terminator instructing his pseudo-son in a fatherly way through a life lesson. Were the Terminator more of a talker (and a philosopher), it could have also said something like: “Because now you exist, and you are a human being for whom moral life is meaningful. Other people face similar obligations, and others might be able to lead the resistance, but what we know about the future indicates that you are our best hope.” In fact, what the T-101 and John don’t share—the conditions that make possible common moral life—is precisely what should motivate John. Here’s why I say this.
 
Our meaningful human existence is inescapably moral. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s fellow Austrian, the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951), said in his famous book
Philosophical Investigations
that there can’t be a purely private language accessible to only one person. That’s because, according to Wittgenstein, the correct use of concepts and words can be maintained only socially, through interactions with others. Later, inspired by Wittgenstein, philosopher Stanley Cavell argued in
The Claim of Reason
(1979) that meaningful language is not only inescapably social; it is also inescapably moral. Meaningful language by its very nature involves people’s making basic moral
claims
upon one another. In conversing with others, we make claims upon them to listen to us, to take us seriously (or at least,
appropriately
), and to respond in meaningful ways.
 
We can extend Cavell’s point and argue that the very possibility of being a human being existing in the world in a meaningful way (rather than, say, in a comatose or pathological state) requires that we confront moral claims made by others upon us and that we make moral claims upon others. On the level of language, again, this might just mean something like making claims upon others to attend properly to our words, and in return that we attend to the claims others make upon us when we speak. But we humans also face more expansive moral claims, claims that might be described generally as calls to others to consider our interests and well-being—and vice versa. In John’s chairotic moment the situation is even more acute. John faces not simply a particular moral choice but, rather, the choice of whether to maintain the possibility of moral life at all.
 
Moral naturalists like Francis Hutcheson (1694-1746) and David Hume, as well as more recent evolutionary theorists, have argued that the human body and mind are naturally set up to include capacities for sympathy and moral feeling. In the view of these “naturalists,” we are simply built to be morally responsive beings. Rousseau, along these lines, maintains that our natural capacity for pity binds us together prior to the social contract or utility calculations. Moral life, for these philosophers, one might say, is part of the fatality of our natality.
 
But in addition to what these philosophers have maintained, whatever our biological and emotional constitution may be, on a conceptual level the very
possibility
of existing in a morally meaningful way requires the moral acknowledgment of others. So, to refuse without any consideration the claims of every other existing human being would be from a moral point of view the most basic kind of immorality. More pointedly, to aspire to an amoral, “nonclaim” kind of existence, existing in a neutral way, beyond the moral claims of others, free of them, is simply not a morally acceptable possibility. In effect, this would be aspiring to escape having a meaningful human life, in a sense aspiring to escape humanness
per se
.
 
This sort of rendering of the basic conditions of human moral life helps make sense of the chairotic moment John Connor faces in the bowels of Crystal Mountain, and it answers the utilitarian impasse we faced. If John can ignore the call or refuse the moral claim all of humanity makes on him there, he can do so only at the cost of his humanity. Simply because he is a human being meaningfully immersed in a world of others, a morally neutral response is just not possible for him, and to respond negatively to the call to save not just an individual human being but humanity in its entirety would be not only deeply immoral but also inhuman.
 
One might even say that refusing the moral claims of others in a situation like this is self-subverting in a logical way. Just as it would be self-refuting for a solipsist to argue that no one else exists by means of language that can be meaningful only in a shared world populated by others, it would be morally self-subverting to maintain that the morally right choice is to deny the claims of others when the very possibility of making moral choices depends upon acknowledging and honoring their claims.
 
Under other circumstances, perhaps, John could acknowledge the claim of humanity upon him but refuse it in order to honor some other more compelling higher claim. But in circumstances like this, where the very
existence
of humanity and moral life itself is at stake, no higher claim can be made. To refuse the claim of human beings under these circumstances, John would have to position himself as something either less than or greater than human.
24
 
Now it’s possible, as we’ve seen, that Kate and John could survive on their own and, like a new Noah and his wife, preserve both humanity and the possibility of moral life. But, again, there’s no reason to think that there is even a possibility for survival down that road. Nor, again, do we know that there’s a better chance for his personal survival down the road of the resistance.
But
we do know that a call has been made and that other living human beings have made a claim upon John. John could, yes, opt for moral self-subversion, and even existential self-subversion by ceasing to exist. His threat to kill himself at the campground in
T3
indicates his recognition of this possible way out. Indeed, as we saw earlier, by some interpretations a utilitarian calculation might even recommend it. But annihilating or even merely accepting the annihilation of the very conditions that make moral conduct possible can’t itself be a morally permissible thing to do. Because choosing not to respond with a yes to the call when it comes would be to consent to the eradication of the very possibility of moral action, there can be only one morally acceptable option for John, the one he does make—the one each of us even on ordinary days must in our own way make—namely, an affirmative answer to the call of others.
 
NOTES
 
1
The Greek word “καιρóς” is also often spelled in English as “kairos,” sometimes as “xairos.” Chairos is often contrasted against “chronos” (χρóνoς), which is used to indicate time understood quantitatively.”
 
2
You remember Meatloaf’s song, “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” don’t you?
 
3
Although the film was released in 1991, the action takes place on June 8-9, 1995. The action of the first film was March 13-14, 1984; the first T-101 and Kyle Reese were sent back from 2029.
 
4
For more on issues relating to time travel and whether we can change the future, see Kristie Lynn Miller’s chapter in this volume, “Changing the Future: Fate and the Terminator.”
 
5
Apparently some of Dyson’s notes were salvaged and used by General Brewster in his work, with Skynet as the result.
 
6
The encounter with the deer accomplishes more than giving John a reason to go looking for painkillers. The filmmakers might have just as easily had John suffer a blowout (perhaps a better device since it would have exhibited the unreliability and dangerous quality of machines). Instead they stage John’s accident so that it exhibits the way he responds when the life of a living, sentient thing is at stake. In addition, Kate is configured as someone who responds to the claims of moral action by her working at a veterinary clinic.
 
7
During his conversation with Kate about Mike Kripke’s basement in the back of the veterinary clinic’s pickup (pun?) truck (and later at the campsite), John seems to infer that he has been fated to pair up with Kate, that it’s not a coincidence that they’ve crossed paths again. And, FYI, Saul Kripke (b. 1940) is one of the greatest logicians and philosophers of language of the last century. Kripke’s notions of meaning and ambiguity are discussed in detail in Richard Brown’s chapter in this volume, “Terminating Ambiguity: The Perplexing Case of ‘The.’”
 
8
“T-101” is short for the “T-850 Model 101.”
 
9
Milan Kundera,
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
(New York: Harper & Row, 1984).
 
10
Like the T-1000 at the end of
Judgment Day
, but unlike the T-101 in any of the films, the T-X loses its temper as it realizes it has lost—something a machine of this sort would not do, though a “bitch,” I suppose, would. For some related musings, see Thomas B. Byers, “Terminating the Postmodern: Masculinity and Pomophobia,” in
Postmodern Narratives
, a special issue of
Modern Fiction Studies
41 (1995): 5-33.
 
11
Why is it that the female terminator is called the T-X rather than something more consistent with the preceding models like, say, the T-3000? Is it because women have two “X” chromosomes? Or does the X refer to her alluring XXX sexuality? Perhaps it refers to her being, in the silly parlance of our times, X-treme?
 
12
The scene today looks chillingly like that of the flag raised over “The Pile” at the site of World Trade Center shortly after its towers were destroyed.
 
13
As we learn later in
T3
, John will die, as national founders John Adams and Thomas Jefferson did, on July 4.
 
14
Perhaps Skynet’s escaping from human control is a metaphor for the way the modern state has escaped human control and has in many cases turned around and harmed the very people it was invented to “protect and serve.” Some have calculated, for example, that more people died at the hands of their own governments during the twentieth century than at the hands of others. See R. J. Goslop,
Confronting War
, 4th ed. (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2001), 19.
 
15
Perhaps uncomfortable with the way the
Terminator
films portray holocaust-producing evil with an Austrian accent, the bonus disc sold with
T3: Rise of the Machines
contains a short segment explaining that the T-101 was first modeled on a human American soldier, Sergeant Candy—a character whose goofy southern accent exhibits prejudices of its own.
 
16
See Thomas R. Flynn,
Sartre and Marxist Existentialism: The Test Case of Collective Responsibility
(Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1984); Hannah Arendt, “Collective Responsibility,” in
Amor Mundi
, ed. J. Bernhauer (Dortrecht, Neth.: Martinus Nijhoff, 1987), 43-50; Richard Wasserstrom,, “The Relevance of Nuremberg,”
Philosophy and Public Affairs
1 (1971): 22-46.
 
17
Article 33 of the Fourth Geneva Convention (1949) concerning the treatment of civilians during wartime, for example, reads: “No protected person may be punished for an offence he or she has not personally committed. Collective penalties and likewise all measures of intimidation or of terrorism are prohibited. Pillage is prohibited. Reprisals against protected persons and their property are prohibited.” The additional Protocol II of 1997 also forbids collective punishment.
 
18
Note that contract theorists suggest other sources of obligation in addition to the social contract; but for our purposes here, let’s focus on contractarian grounds.
 
19
For more on Skynet’s “motivations,” see Josh Weisberg’s chapter, “It Stands to Reason: Skynet and Self-Preservation,” in this volume.
 
20
Using terms like “judgment day” and “salvation” and a hero whose initials are “J.C.,” these films, of course, play off the Christian narrative, though arguably in a blasphemous way. In addition to the terminological similarities, like Christianity, salvation in the
Terminator
films (so far) comes to humanity through redemptive violence. Strangely, however, salvation via J.C. is positioned to arrive
after
Judgment Day. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to call
T4
,
Armageddon
? It may have been too much to name John Connor’s spouse Martha or Mary, or even Judith or Joan, but calling his mother “Sarah” positions him, of course, not as Jesus Christ but as Isaac—someone as a sacrifice offered but not taken.

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