[8.0/10] Tolerance. Forgiveness. Understanding. These are foundational principles in Star Trek. And despite starting out as a Federation skeptic, Kira Nerys has internalized them. And despite being a true believer of the Bajoran faith, she is surprisingly ecumenical. She accepts and even loves her colleagues, regardless of their different beliefs. And as the opening scene underlines, different paths to spirituality are all still valid in her eyes.
But everything has its limit.
What I like about “Covenant” is that it’s a test of those principles. The Federation is a bastion of tolerance. But does that ecumenical spirit extend to the Bajoran equivalent of a Satanic cult? The franchise is littered with stories of redemption and granting even bitter foes the opportunity to change. Does that absolution extend to Deep Space Nine’s most persistent and sinister villain? Star Trek preaches understanding and accepting others’ perspectives. Does that respect extend to those who would wage war on your gods or join a death cult led by your mortal enemy?
Franchise stalwart writer René Echevarria and company find an interesting vehicle to explore those questions. In truth, it’s a little convenient to have Kira’s childhood Vedek use Dominion long-distance transportation technology to beam her directly to Empok Nor, where Gul Dukat has set up camp. But my minor qualms on plausibility are dwarfed by the intrigue of our first follow-up on Dukat since his Pah-wraith possession and murder of Dax and the reveal that he has become the leader of a sect of the very Pah-wraith-worshippers that Kira already disdains.
What could be more of a trial for Kira? The combination of a man she loathes at the head of a religion that is, by its very terms, antithetical to hers. It’s easy for the audience to feel much the same way. We’ve seen Dukat betray our heroes, retake the station, unleash the Pah-wraiths, and murder Jadzia. We’ve seen the Pah-wraiths hold innocent bystanders like Keiko and Jake hostage, and shut down the wormhole. It’s easy to see both Dukat and his new gods as pure evil separately, let alone together.
And yet, what I appreciate most about “Covenant” is that it makes a compelling case for both of them.
When it comes to the Pah-wraiths, Dukat asks a legit question. Where were the Prophets during the Occupation of Bajor? It’s a question many in the Jewish community wrestled with in the wake of the devastation of the Holocaust, and Kira’s “the Prophets work in mysterious ways” answer isn’t necessarily a satisfying one. She’s been devoted to her religion from the time she was a child, but it’s easy to see how others, even her childhood Vedek, could turn away from it in the shadow of that difficult question. The questioning and renunciation tracks with real life responses to epochal horrors.
To the same end, we’ve learned not to trust Dukat’s justifications and bending of the truth to suit his own needs, but he makes a solid argument for the Pah-wraiths on their own terms. As Odo once observed, the Prophets have been maddeningly opaque and inscrutable at times. The notion that the Pah-wraiths’ sins were simply wanting to take a more active role to help Bajor, the kind of activism that could have thwarted the Occupation, is plausible. And his point that history is written by the victors accounts for the ancient texts' warnings about them. You kind of have to ignore the malevolent gods we’ve seen interact with our heroes thus far, but on paper, you can see how the Pah-wraiths could simply be a worthy alternative cosmology saddled with bad PR.
Then there’s Dukat himself. Despite being the most unctuous Cardassian Kira has ever had to cross paths with, there’s a plausible story that being touched by the Pah-wraiths changed him. In a strange way, it's a story not unlike Sisko’s. He too was skeptical of these wormhole aliens until his direct experience with them convinced him that there was something more at play. It changed him. It changed his behavior. It shifted his beliefs and attitudes. Why couldn’t the same be true for Dukat?
Hell, he seems different. He expresses regret over the Occupation. He accepts that he may have hurt Kira’s mother with their dalliance. He accepts responsibility and evinces a desire to be cleansed of his sins. There’s the same condescending tone, and the same sense of the iron fist in the velvet glove. But the truth is that so many of our religious stories are of sinners who become saints. Dukat has a checkered history, to put it mildly, but if you’re a true believer like Kira, the idea that someone , even Dukat, could see the light (or at least, a light) and become their better self is all but hard-wired into your values.
Now look, this can only go so far. Even if he’d fully reformed, Dukat kidnapping Kira to be at his side and making her his prisoner is not exactly pious behavior. The mass of Bajorans who worship him, giving him the gratitude and admiration he always craved, is unsettling at best. And the Pah-wraiths are not abstract watchers who occasionally intervene in cryptic ways; they’re active players who’ve done some terrible things. We, like Kira, can anticipate that the other shoe will drop sooner or later here.
But “Covenant” does just enough to make the case that maybe, just maybe, Dukat and his followers should at least be left alone. Kira’s right to want no part of it and to be granted her freedom, but the gods you worship don’t have to be the gods others worship. She may not want anything to do with Dukat, but everything in Star Trek’s ideals and western religion provides for the possibility of reform and redemption. The retrograde strictures like vows of celibacy and special dispensation to reproduce seem draconian, but he’s not the first religious figure on the show to want to take Bajor back to “the old ways.”
The episode does enough in its first half to say, look, you the audience, like Kira, have every reason to mistrust this. But if you believe in religious tolerance, if you buy that, whether this mythos is real or not, Dukat and his followers are true believers, if they’re not hurting anybody, then isn’t it our responsibility as enlightened citizens of the world to accept them? To let them worship in peace? To give them a chance to live and commune and pray as they would?
This is Star Trek, so you can imagine the back half of the episode isn’t going to be Kira, Dukat, and the gang singing kumbaya for twenty minutes. But still, everything Kira sees to that midpoint is a test of those principles, and it’s hard to avoid acquiescing to the idea that Dukat’s sect deserves tolerance, if not acceptance, and that the man himself deserves the chance to atone for his sins and make a change.
And then a child is born with those damn Cardassian ridges.
That really gives up the game, doesn’t it? For all his faux-magnanimity, his protestations of having seen the light, Dukat is up to his old tricks. There’s a young Bajoran woman under his power, and he cannot help taking advantage of the situation to sate his urges. And rather than own up to the violation, he paints it as a miracle, a sign of the Pah-wraiths consecrating this unique Bajoran religion led by a Cardassian. The illusion of the penitent convert is erased, and in its place is the same old self-serving, dissembling Dukat.
In the first half of the episode, what we see is a test of Kira’s faith and principles. But in the back half, it’s a test of faith for Dukat’s followers. Vedek Fala believes what he’s told, because the alternative is having given up the religion you devoted your life to in order to follow a charlatan. Mika squirms in the presence of Dukat, plainly aghast at what everyone must think, especially her husband. And Benyan, the supposed father, remains outwardly steadfast but is plainly torn up inside over the obvious conclusion as to what occurred. Suddenly, “Covenant” transforms from a story about extending grace and forgiveness to one of recognizing a wolf in sheep’s clothing, no matter what earring it might be wearing.
My favorite choice in “Covenant” is the fact that, in his own way, Dukat remains a true believer. The easy thing to do would be to make this all a lie, a scheme, a plot from the beginning. You could buy the idea that Dukat never fully bought in, but that having a cadre of faithful, adoring Bajorans who finally gave him the respect he deserved was too much to pass up. Hell, getting to hold court on a Cardassian ore refinery, even if it’s not his, helps scratch the itch that remains over being evicted from DS9 not once but twice.
Instead, Dukat asks the Pah-wraiths for help, for guidance, for aid in cleansing of a weakness he recognizes within himself. True to form, he is not craven or openly callous in his actions, but rather deludes himself into thinking that this is all the right thing to do. He is religious now, sure, but religion is just a new outer casing for the same self-justifications and cruelty he’s shown in the past.
I’m reminded of Lisa Simpson’s recrimination to Mr. Burns: “You’re still evil, and when you’re trying to be good, you’re even more evil.” There’s a certain Alec d’Urberville quality to Dukat here, having made his supposed religious transformation, but falling more and more into his old brutal and lustful patterns when he can't deny himself his wants even in the throes of his supposed piety.
In some ways, I don’t need the escalation. Yes, it’s unforgivable when he would rather suffocate Mika than admit the truth about his impropriety and abuse of his position. Yes, it is damning when he would use his religious authority to dupe his followers in committing suicide en masse, Jonestown-style, in the name of transcending their physical bodies to help the Pah-wraiths, while conveniently sparing himself such a demise. It underscores how little Dukat has changed despite all his protestations, and perhaps how he’s become worse and still more mad than when we last saw him.
But by then, the bubble has been popped. Kira saves the day and the people who were swayed by this fraud. She loses the Vedek who taught her in the grim crest of the aftermath. She saw through the charade from the start. And if the audience (read: me) could at least provide for the possibility of a genuine religious conversion and a reasonable basis for belief, that evaporated the second it was revealed that Dukat had once again taken advantage of a young Bajoran woman in his employ.
As easy as it is to be skeptical of the yarns Dukat spins from the start, it’s also easy to think that Kira is biased. She has a personal revulsion toward him for justified reasons both personal and professional. She may believe in an inclusive view of spirituality, but it’s one thing to accept Klingons worshiping Kahless and another to accept your fellow Bajorans worshiping your devils. It would be defensible, interesting even, if this was a story about Kira’s close-mindedness in a way that breaks the limits of her own transformation, from understandably hateful terrorist to high-minded leader and diplomat.
Instead, it’s a story about how the chapter and verse of tolerance and understanding can be abused and even weaponized in an attempt to launder bad acts and insulate bad figures from their ramifications. They can be used as an excuse to allow dastards and charlatans to lead good people to ruin. They can mask the same underlying selfishness and cruelty that consumed the worst of us, with or without a holy cloth to drape oneself in.
As always with Deep Space NIne, the values and ideals that Star Trek has been founded upon for decades are made to account for the fault lines with the real world, where not every villain can be reasoned with and not every redemption is real. It’s not a happy thing to recognize that some malefactors will take advantage of your kindness and compassion. It cuts against the idealism at the heart of the franchise. But even for our enlightened heroes, and those of us at home who aspire to forge the world Star Trek envisions, it is hard, but necessary, to recognize that no matter the package, some actions are craven, some people are disingenuous, and some things simply cannot be tolerated.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2024-06-06T06:03:49Z
[8.0/10] Tolerance. Forgiveness. Understanding. These are foundational principles in Star Trek. And despite starting out as a Federation skeptic, Kira Nerys has internalized them. And despite being a true believer of the Bajoran faith, she is surprisingly ecumenical. She accepts and even loves her colleagues, regardless of their different beliefs. And as the opening scene underlines, different paths to spirituality are all still valid in her eyes.
But everything has its limit.
What I like about “Covenant” is that it’s a test of those principles. The Federation is a bastion of tolerance. But does that ecumenical spirit extend to the Bajoran equivalent of a Satanic cult? The franchise is littered with stories of redemption and granting even bitter foes the opportunity to change. Does that absolution extend to Deep Space Nine’s most persistent and sinister villain? Star Trek preaches understanding and accepting others’ perspectives. Does that respect extend to those who would wage war on your gods or join a death cult led by your mortal enemy?
Franchise stalwart writer René Echevarria and company find an interesting vehicle to explore those questions. In truth, it’s a little convenient to have Kira’s childhood Vedek use Dominion long-distance transportation technology to beam her directly to Empok Nor, where Gul Dukat has set up camp. But my minor qualms on plausibility are dwarfed by the intrigue of our first follow-up on Dukat since his Pah-wraith possession and murder of Dax and the reveal that he has become the leader of a sect of the very Pah-wraith-worshippers that Kira already disdains.
What could be more of a trial for Kira? The combination of a man she loathes at the head of a religion that is, by its very terms, antithetical to hers. It’s easy for the audience to feel much the same way. We’ve seen Dukat betray our heroes, retake the station, unleash the Pah-wraiths, and murder Jadzia. We’ve seen the Pah-wraiths hold innocent bystanders like Keiko and Jake hostage, and shut down the wormhole. It’s easy to see both Dukat and his new gods as pure evil separately, let alone together.
And yet, what I appreciate most about “Covenant” is that it makes a compelling case for both of them.
When it comes to the Pah-wraiths, Dukat asks a legit question. Where were the Prophets during the Occupation of Bajor? It’s a question many in the Jewish community wrestled with in the wake of the devastation of the Holocaust, and Kira’s “the Prophets work in mysterious ways” answer isn’t necessarily a satisfying one. She’s been devoted to her religion from the time she was a child, but it’s easy to see how others, even her childhood Vedek, could turn away from it in the shadow of that difficult question. The questioning and renunciation tracks with real life responses to epochal horrors.
To the same end, we’ve learned not to trust Dukat’s justifications and bending of the truth to suit his own needs, but he makes a solid argument for the Pah-wraiths on their own terms. As Odo once observed, the Prophets have been maddeningly opaque and inscrutable at times. The notion that the Pah-wraiths’ sins were simply wanting to take a more active role to help Bajor, the kind of activism that could have thwarted the Occupation, is plausible. And his point that history is written by the victors accounts for the ancient texts' warnings about them. You kind of have to ignore the malevolent gods we’ve seen interact with our heroes thus far, but on paper, you can see how the Pah-wraiths could simply be a worthy alternative cosmology saddled with bad PR.
Then there’s Dukat himself. Despite being the most unctuous Cardassian Kira has ever had to cross paths with, there’s a plausible story that being touched by the Pah-wraiths changed him. In a strange way, it's a story not unlike Sisko’s. He too was skeptical of these wormhole aliens until his direct experience with them convinced him that there was something more at play. It changed him. It changed his behavior. It shifted his beliefs and attitudes. Why couldn’t the same be true for Dukat?
Hell, he seems different. He expresses regret over the Occupation. He accepts that he may have hurt Kira’s mother with their dalliance. He accepts responsibility and evinces a desire to be cleansed of his sins. There’s the same condescending tone, and the same sense of the iron fist in the velvet glove. But the truth is that so many of our religious stories are of sinners who become saints. Dukat has a checkered history, to put it mildly, but if you’re a true believer like Kira, the idea that someone , even Dukat, could see the light (or at least, a light) and become their better self is all but hard-wired into your values.
Now look, this can only go so far. Even if he’d fully reformed, Dukat kidnapping Kira to be at his side and making her his prisoner is not exactly pious behavior. The mass of Bajorans who worship him, giving him the gratitude and admiration he always craved, is unsettling at best. And the Pah-wraiths are not abstract watchers who occasionally intervene in cryptic ways; they’re active players who’ve done some terrible things. We, like Kira, can anticipate that the other shoe will drop sooner or later here.
But “Covenant” does just enough to make the case that maybe, just maybe, Dukat and his followers should at least be left alone. Kira’s right to want no part of it and to be granted her freedom, but the gods you worship don’t have to be the gods others worship. She may not want anything to do with Dukat, but everything in Star Trek’s ideals and western religion provides for the possibility of reform and redemption. The retrograde strictures like vows of celibacy and special dispensation to reproduce seem draconian, but he’s not the first religious figure on the show to want to take Bajor back to “the old ways.”
The episode does enough in its first half to say, look, you the audience, like Kira, have every reason to mistrust this. But if you believe in religious tolerance, if you buy that, whether this mythos is real or not, Dukat and his followers are true believers, if they’re not hurting anybody, then isn’t it our responsibility as enlightened citizens of the world to accept them? To let them worship in peace? To give them a chance to live and commune and pray as they would?
This is Star Trek, so you can imagine the back half of the episode isn’t going to be Kira, Dukat, and the gang singing kumbaya for twenty minutes. But still, everything Kira sees to that midpoint is a test of those principles, and it’s hard to avoid acquiescing to the idea that Dukat’s sect deserves tolerance, if not acceptance, and that the man himself deserves the chance to atone for his sins and make a change.
And then a child is born with those damn Cardassian ridges.
That really gives up the game, doesn’t it? For all his faux-magnanimity, his protestations of having seen the light, Dukat is up to his old tricks. There’s a young Bajoran woman under his power, and he cannot help taking advantage of the situation to sate his urges. And rather than own up to the violation, he paints it as a miracle, a sign of the Pah-wraiths consecrating this unique Bajoran religion led by a Cardassian. The illusion of the penitent convert is erased, and in its place is the same old self-serving, dissembling Dukat.
In the first half of the episode, what we see is a test of Kira’s faith and principles. But in the back half, it’s a test of faith for Dukat’s followers. Vedek Fala believes what he’s told, because the alternative is having given up the religion you devoted your life to in order to follow a charlatan. Mika squirms in the presence of Dukat, plainly aghast at what everyone must think, especially her husband. And Benyan, the supposed father, remains outwardly steadfast but is plainly torn up inside over the obvious conclusion as to what occurred. Suddenly, “Covenant” transforms from a story about extending grace and forgiveness to one of recognizing a wolf in sheep’s clothing, no matter what earring it might be wearing.
My favorite choice in “Covenant” is the fact that, in his own way, Dukat remains a true believer. The easy thing to do would be to make this all a lie, a scheme, a plot from the beginning. You could buy the idea that Dukat never fully bought in, but that having a cadre of faithful, adoring Bajorans who finally gave him the respect he deserved was too much to pass up. Hell, getting to hold court on a Cardassian ore refinery, even if it’s not his, helps scratch the itch that remains over being evicted from DS9 not once but twice.
Instead, Dukat asks the Pah-wraiths for help, for guidance, for aid in cleansing of a weakness he recognizes within himself. True to form, he is not craven or openly callous in his actions, but rather deludes himself into thinking that this is all the right thing to do. He is religious now, sure, but religion is just a new outer casing for the same self-justifications and cruelty he’s shown in the past.
I’m reminded of Lisa Simpson’s recrimination to Mr. Burns: “You’re still evil, and when you’re trying to be good, you’re even more evil.” There’s a certain Alec d’Urberville quality to Dukat here, having made his supposed religious transformation, but falling more and more into his old brutal and lustful patterns when he can't deny himself his wants even in the throes of his supposed piety.
In some ways, I don’t need the escalation. Yes, it’s unforgivable when he would rather suffocate Mika than admit the truth about his impropriety and abuse of his position. Yes, it is damning when he would use his religious authority to dupe his followers in committing suicide en masse, Jonestown-style, in the name of transcending their physical bodies to help the Pah-wraiths, while conveniently sparing himself such a demise. It underscores how little Dukat has changed despite all his protestations, and perhaps how he’s become worse and still more mad than when we last saw him.
But by then, the bubble has been popped. Kira saves the day and the people who were swayed by this fraud. She loses the Vedek who taught her in the grim crest of the aftermath. She saw through the charade from the start. And if the audience (read: me) could at least provide for the possibility of a genuine religious conversion and a reasonable basis for belief, that evaporated the second it was revealed that Dukat had once again taken advantage of a young Bajoran woman in his employ.
As easy as it is to be skeptical of the yarns Dukat spins from the start, it’s also easy to think that Kira is biased. She has a personal revulsion toward him for justified reasons both personal and professional. She may believe in an inclusive view of spirituality, but it’s one thing to accept Klingons worshiping Kahless and another to accept your fellow Bajorans worshiping your devils. It would be defensible, interesting even, if this was a story about Kira’s close-mindedness in a way that breaks the limits of her own transformation, from understandably hateful terrorist to high-minded leader and diplomat.
Instead, it’s a story about how the chapter and verse of tolerance and understanding can be abused and even weaponized in an attempt to launder bad acts and insulate bad figures from their ramifications. They can be used as an excuse to allow dastards and charlatans to lead good people to ruin. They can mask the same underlying selfishness and cruelty that consumed the worst of us, with or without a holy cloth to drape oneself in.
As always with Deep Space NIne, the values and ideals that Star Trek has been founded upon for decades are made to account for the fault lines with the real world, where not every villain can be reasoned with and not every redemption is real. It’s not a happy thing to recognize that some malefactors will take advantage of your kindness and compassion. It cuts against the idealism at the heart of the franchise. But even for our enlightened heroes, and those of us at home who aspire to forge the world Star Trek envisions, it is hard, but necessary, to recognize that no matter the package, some actions are craven, some people are disingenuous, and some things simply cannot be tolerated.