Fantasy Authors, Tax Policy & Veil Piercing

Pat Rothfuss, author of the best-selling fantasy novel "The Name of the Wind," and an interviewee in my "Law and Hard Fantasy" series, has a post up on his blog ruminating about tax policy and incorporation.

Up until this year, I've always gotten money back because I've lived well below the poverty line. This year, I got to give them money. It was, as they say, more fun than getting kicked in the throat. Mostly.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against taxes. Everyone loves to bitch about them, but taxes pay for schools, and roads, and snowplows, and sewage treatment plants. My friends have a son who is autistic, and the government helps them by bringing in well-trained people.

These things are important. If that's all my taxes went toward, I would pay them gladly. I would sing a song while writing out the check.

However, we all know that's not the case.

So, under the advice of several wise people, I've decided to start a corporation. This is supposed to prevent the government from taking quite as big a bite out of my ass for next year's taxes.

It doesn't seem right, honestly. The corporation is just me: I own it. And this corporation (let's call it Me-corp) will be employing me. That, apparently, is different from being actually self-employed. Sorry? What? How does that work?

I guess what it comes down to is that the government is really, really dumb. Dumb enough so that if I put on sock on one of my hands and use it as a puppet, it will be convinced that the puppet is actually paying the taxes, not me.

But I'm not above exploiting a loophole in the system. So all that remains is to figure out what to call this corporation. I having trouble picking a name. Names are important things, you know. They tell you a great deal about a... a corporation.

I'm not an expert in tax law, so I'll leave discussion of the income-sheltering aspects of this structure to the experts, but I know something about corporate veil piercing. And I'll just say that calling a corporation a "puppet" would seem to make it less likely that a court would consider it a bona fide entity for the purpose of shielding a shareholder's personal assets in any suit against Me.corp.

Posted by Dave Hoffman at 10:02 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

The Culture of Cynicism Eats Its Own

Americans, so we have been told endlessly by the media, hate politicians. . . and their natural henchmen, lawyers. The press fearlessly confronts official misdeeds, subtly educating the populace about the rottenness of its elected leaders. And once wasteful lawsuits are finally cleared out of the courts, captains of industry will be free to exercise the innovative genius that can make the country great again.

Yet this acid cynicism about politicians and lawyers, like a sorcerer's apprentice, is tough to control. And it now appears to be blowing back onto the very journalists and business leaders that have deployed it so successfully over the past few decades.

Consider first the backlash to the backlash about "bittergate." Having "exposed" Barack Obama's unforgivable hauteur, the media exhibited its own in the process. For example, here's Frank Rich on tribune of the people Lou Dobbs:

However out of touch Mr. Obama is with “ordinary Americans,” many Americans, ordinary and not, have concluded that the talking heads blathering about blue-collar men, religion, guns and those incomprehensible “YouTube young people” are even more condescending and out of touch. When a Washington doyenne like Mary Matalin, freighted with jewelry, starts railing about elitists on “Meet the Press,” as she did last Sunday, it’s pure farce. It’s typical of the syndrome that the man who plays a raging populist on CNN, Lou Dobbs, dismissed Mr. Obama last week by saying “we don’t need another Ivy League-educated knucklehead.” Mr. Dobbs must know whereof he speaks, since he’s Harvard ’67.

And Hendrik Hertzberg:

If Gibson and his partner, George Stephanopoulos, had halted their descent at the level of the fatuous, that would have been bad enough. But there was worse to come. In the seven weeks since the previous Clinton-Obama debate, the death toll of American troops in Iraq had reached four thousand; the President had admitted that his “national-security team,” including the Vice-President, had met regularly in the White House to approve the torture of prisoners; house repossessions topped fifty thousand per month and unemployment topped five per cent; and the poll-measured proportion of Americans who believe that “things have pretty seriously gotten off on the wrong track” hit eighty-one per cent, a record. Yet for most of the next hour Gibson and Stephanopoulos limited their questioning to the following topics . . . .

You've heard them all before; no need to reprint them here. But there's always room for Thomas Frank's skewering of the populist pretensions of the media elite:

[Consider] Sam Walton, [an] . . . enemy of workers' organizations . . .Didn't he have a funky Southern accent of some kind? Surely such a mellifluous drawl cancels any possibility of elitism.

It is by this familiar maneuver that the people who have designed and supported the policies that have brought the class divide back to America – the people who have actually, really transformed our society from an egalitarian into an elitist one – perfume themselves with the essence of honest toil, like a cologne distilled from the sweat of laid-off workers. Likewise do their retainers in the wider world – the . . . pundits who lovingly curate all this phony authenticity – become jes' folks, the most populist fellows of them all.

Where's it all leading to? Here's one clue from Floyd Norris, discussing Steven Fraser's book on the story of Wall Street:

“By the time of the American Revolution there was already a robust plebeian resentment of the aristocrat as parasite, a privileged nonproducer living off the hard labor of those he lorded over,” Fraser writes. It has not helped that the financial lords have not always been subtle about their superiority, as when Jay Gould, the robber baron who ran railroads in the late 19th century, boasted he could hire one half of the working class to kill the other half.

It is one thing to be seen as venal but brilliant, and another to be seen as both greedy and stupid. That is the risk Wall Street now faces.

As Fraser says in writing about the aftermath of the 1929 crash, “Wall Street had proved itself not only ethically challenged and dangerously omnipotent but, more damning than that, omni-incompetent.” And he continues: “During the boom years of the 1920s, the white-shoe world of J. P. Morgan had accepted credit for the nation’s good fortune and been portrayed as a conclave of wise men. Now, under the new circumstances of economic ruination, that same world was treated as criminally irresponsible, pathetic even, an object not only of censure but of mockery. And there is perhaps nothing more fatal for the life expectancy of an elite than to be viewed as ridiculous.”

Both Wall Street and the press appear to be at risk of suffering the same fate as the politicians they've undermined.

UPDATE: Scott H. Greenfield of Simple Justice asks (apropos of Dobbs): "Since when did being smart turn into a deficit, a failing to be ridiculed?"

Posted by Frank Pasquale at 12:23 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

False(?) Etymologies

I love a word with a good story, especially one with a plot twist. One such word is Neanderthal. Many years ago, my father told me of a dainty German scholar named Joachim Neumann, a theologian and hymnist with special interest in the ancient Greeks. Joachim considered “Neumann” a coarse and ugly name, ill-befitting a man of his refinement, so he changed it to the Greek for “new man”: Nea Ander, or Neander. With his new surname, Joachim became a beloved figure in his little German town, and eventually the entire valley (or dale, or thal/tal in German) was named in his honor: Neander Thal. Later, of course, early human remains were found in that same valley. So today, when we think of Neanderthals, we think not of refined scholars or classical Greek ideals but of hairy stooped brutes. The first time I tried to verify the story, I couldn’t find anything, and I worried that this lovely etymology would turn out to be false. A quick internet search today, though, suggests that my father didn’t make this up—or if he did, he’s not the only one spinning this yarn.

In Leviathan, Thomas Hobbes makes another intriguing word claim: that deliberation is the opposite of liberation. The sum of our desires, aversions, hopes, and fears is called deliberation, Hobbes says, “[a]nd it is called Deliberation, because it is a putting an end to the Liberty we had of doing, or omitting, according to our own Appetite, or Aversion” (Leviathan, ch. 6). Hobbes sometimes wrote in Latin, so I thought he’d know his Latin etymologies. Deliberation as an end to liberty—that would be a great word story. The implications for proponents of deliberative democracy! I eagerly consulted the Oxford English Dictionary for more details…

…and discovered that Hobbes apparently made the whole thing up. According to the OED, deliberate comes not from libertas or liber (the Latin roots of liberty), but from libra—the balance, or scales. To deliberate is not to end liberty, but to balance or weigh. How sensible. How plausible and predictable. How disappointing.

Posted by Alice Ristroph at 06:53 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

The Neuroimaging of Persuasion: Selling Babies

I've argued (here, here, & here) that there is a gap between how jurists generally imagine that consumers behave (and should be protected) and the technological tools available to clever marketers. The slogan I've come up with is total persuasion: "a society in which most speech that you hear is designed to persuade you to consume."

Today's W$J offers an interesting article along this line. According to researchers at Oxford, we're hard-wired to respond to baby faces in positive ways:

Using a technique called magneto-encephalography that measures brain signals, the Oxford researchers found that a baby's face can seize our attention in milliseconds, activating an unusual mental organ called the fusiform gyrus that responds to human faces. Moreover, these distinctive infant features, unlike the mature features of an adult, trigger a sense of reward and good feeling in a seventh of a second. Picture Bambi's saucer-size eyes or those of Mickey Mouse.

And from later in the article:

Through brain-scanning experiments, researchers have located the neurochemical essence of our face expertise in a strip of temporal-lobe tissue about two inches long and three-quarters of an inch wide. Studying this face recognition area in macaque monkeys, neurobiologist Doris Tsao at the University of Bremen, Germany, reported in Science that the tissue consisted almost entirely of neurons that responded just to faces.

To understand how the tissue develops, Yoichi Sugita at Japan's Neuroscience Research Institute raised infant monkeys for two years without ever showing them a face. Lab workers wore hoods. When faces were finally revealed to them, the monkeys could readily tell them apart, Dr. Sugita reported in January in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

"It is mind-blowing," Dr. Kanwisher said. "If you had to bet, you would bet it is innate."

What can/should the law do about these findings, which, after all, confirm common intuitions. See Steven Jay Gould's A Biological Homage to Mickey Mouse, in The Panda's Thumb.

Posted by Dave Hoffman at 02:11 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Torture for Tots

Readers of Larry Solum’s Legal Theory Blog might have noticed yesterday abstracts for several new papers from heavy hitters in the legal academy. My favorite of these April 1 abstracts was the Cass Sunstein-Adrian Vermeule paper on “Unrestricted Interrogation of Minors Not Yet Shown to Have Engaged in Culpable Behaviors.” “Given our assumptions, there is a moral obligation for the state to engage in the torture of innocent children.” Download that while it’s hot!

A good April Fool's joke has to be plausible, and I think this abstract fits the bill. The same arguments that have been advanced to argue that executions might be morally required and that torture is at least permissible, if not required, can be used to require torture for tots. All you need is the right hypothetical.

And yet, I think Larry Solum is right that torture for tots is a proposal that most will view as a joke. Indeed, it's a prospect that might help test the claim that we torture when, and if, and only if, necessity demands it. In a seminar discussion a few months ago, I suggested that contemporary support for torture might be driven by a presumption that those who are tortured deserve to be treated thus. Some of those present resisted this characterization, claiming that the arguments were based strictly on necessity, so I offered a hypothetical in which the only way to find the location of the ticking bomb is to torture the terrorist’s innocent young child. As I recall, none of my fellow seminar attendees wanted to defend torture under those circumstances.

A previously unreleased torture memo penned by John Yoo became available yesterday. Marty Lederman links to Part 1 and Part 2 and discusses the memo. David Luban addresses torture for tots, and other weaknesses of ticking bomb arguments, in a new paper available here. And in "Professors Strangelove," available here, I offer some thoughts on torture, national security tough talk, and one of my favorite movies.

UPDATE: My soon-to-be colleague Frank Pasquale points out this Salon piece, which includes a link to a fascinating Youtube clip on the question of torturing children.

Posted by Alice Ristroph at 11:37 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Sartorial Exclusion

April is the criminalest month here at Co-op. Thanks to the regular bloggers for the invitation to visit; I’m pleased to join other criminal law professors as a guest. With so many criminal law specialists on board, perhaps no one will mind if I stray from the criminal law and say something about top hats, ascots, and immigration policy.

Sunday’s New York Times featured a story about Sebastian Horsley, a British author and self-proclaimed dandy who was recently denied entrance to the United States on the grounds of moral turpitude—and possibly, for wearing a ten-inch top hat. A customs spokesperson cited Mr. Horsley’s past arrests for drugs and prostitution. But Mr. Horsley’s attire also attracted attention.

To Mr. Horsley, who has in the past entered the country without incident, the recent fracas arose less from his past indulgences than a current one. In short, his very tall top hat.

“It’s a stovepipe,” he said, referring to the subspecies made famous seven score and seven years ago by Abraham Lincoln. “They asked my girlfriend, ‘Why is he wearing that hat?’ And she told them, ‘Because it wouldn’t fit in his suitcase.’ ”

Back home in England, he noted dryly that he had refrained from wearing his usual makeup and nail polish on the flight so as not to attract undue scrutiny — merely a three-piece suit by the Savile Row tailor Richard Anderson, a pink-and-gold-braid tie, a black velvet topcoat and fur-trimmed black leather gloves.

The NYT article wonders who needs to be protected from whom: U.S. citizens from Mr. Horsley, or Mr. Horsley from U.S. citizens who might fail to appreciate his eccentricities?

Though recent discussions of immigration policy have focused on what to do with undocumented persons already on U.S. soil, exclusion at the border is also an issue of interest. Moral turpitude might be the basis on which the U.S. has denied entry to shady characters such as Amy Winehouse and Sebastian Horsley. But intellectual turpitude is also grounds for exclusion. During the Cold War, the United States practiced “ideological exclusion,” denying visas to dangerous persons such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Doris Lessing, and that Communist conspirator in pyjamas, Pablo Neruda (scroll down here for my preferred translation of "Lone Gentleman"). At present, the U.S. is denying entrance to Dora Maria Tellez, a Nicaraguan historian and former revolutionary who had been invited to teach at Harvard; Tariq Ramadan, a Muslim scholar and Fellow at Oxford; Adam Habib, a South African professor of political science; and other scholars. The ACLU, which represents PEN American Center and others in legal challenges to some of these exclusions, has an interactive feature that allows the viewer to browse “passports” of famous persons excluded for their political associations or statements. One of my favorites was Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, whose arrest in Moscow for throwing a snowball at a Stalin statue didn’t win him enough credit to prevent the U.S from excluding him for Communist sympathies. Or was the problem aesthetic turpitude? After all, Trudeau was a known fashionista, criticized in his own country for wearing a yellow ascot to the House of Commons.

Posted by Alice Ristroph at 05:28 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

How Far Should Safety Ads Go?

I was struck (pardon the pun) by these new safety ads by the Metropolitan Washington Council of Governments's (MWCOG) Street Smart program. In addition to the vivid ads (above), there's also a radio spot that begins with the sound of a screaming pedestrian getting hit by a car. You can download the ads at the Street Smart website.

According to the Washington Post:

[O]n average more than 80 people die and 2,000 people are injured a year in pedestrian accidents in the Washington region. . . .

"The idea of the campaign is to get to the core of the issue. It's a life-and-death situation," said Jim McAndrew, vice president of Design House, the firm responsible for producing the ads.

D.C. Assistant Police Chief Patrick A. Burke said risks have increased in recent years because pedestrians and drivers are often distracted by cellphones and text-messaging. "We've got to get people's attention back on the road and the street," he said.

The ads are put up on bus and transit shelters. The poster at the top of this post is a version of the ad that goes on the side of buses. The purpose of the ad is to shock people into being more careful. Effective? Or too vivid?

Hat tip: DCist blog

Posted by Daniel J. Solove at 11:32 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

21 Accents

This is a rather amusing video of an actress performing 21 different accents.

Hat tip: Google Blogoscoped

Posted by Daniel J. Solove at 12:16 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

Houses and Homes

There is nothing like being both a buyer and a seller in the current housing market to focus one’s attention on the avalanche of housing news available these days (current status: national market down; local market down; my micro market stable). Within this informational bounty, however, I have found few news articles as thought provoking as this NY Times piece.

The article explores how the new no-money down, interest only, adjustable rate loans encouraged a subtle but distinct change in how we think about the homes we live in; a shift from buying homes as homes to buying houses as investments.

For decades, Americans bought homes. Doing so signaled the buyer’s middle class status and commitment to his or her community. The housing market was relatively stable, so most long-term owners would eventually see a tidy profit on their purchases. But their homes were first and foremost places to live. In the midst of the recent housing bubble, that changed. We still, of course, lived in our houses, but rapidly escalating prices and the lack of other savings encouraged owners to start viewing their houses first and foremost as investment vehicles.

This shift is obvious to anyone who, like me, is an HGTV addict. Rarely do you see an HGTV host praise a homeowner’s decision to paint her house purple because it is her daughter’s favorite color. On a recent episode, one woman tried to explain to the host that while she and her husband had probably “overinvested” in their beautiful backyard, they valued outdoor living and thought the decision was worth it - even if they did not recoup the money on the resale. The host looked at her as if she were speaking Klingon.

This shift – from houses as homes to houses as investments – raises interesting public policy questions. Should the government subsidize (through the mortgage tax deduction) this type of investment? The mortgage tax deduction for owner-occupied residences now costs $430.2 billion and is projected to be the fourth largest federal tax expenditure in 2007-2011. Subsidizing home ownership this way may have been a reasonable public policy choice when such ownership brought with it the type of investment in and care for a community that increased property values and quality of life for entire neighborhoods, but does it makes sense in light of an investment mentality that may be encouraging (or forcing) people to “walk away” from purchase choices gone bad?

And what of the social phenomena that promotes home ownership as an essential part of the American dream? If achieving home ownership requires the type of high-risk loans that contributed to our recently burst bubble, is it time to start rethinking our national mantra extolling the virtues of ownership for all? If so, how can we change our public dialogue so home ownership is no longer viewed as an essential element of a middle-class life? The current housing crisis offers us an opportunity to think about these types of underlying issues.

Posted by Lori Ringhand at 04:09 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

Battlestar Galactica Interview Transcript (Part I)

We are very pleased to be able to present a transcript of our interview with Ron Moore and David Eick, the creators, producers, and writers of the TV show Battlestar Galactica. Joe Beaudoin, Jr., the project leader of the Battlestar Wiki, transcribed the interview for us. We edited the transcript, but the bulk of the work was done by Joe. The transcript is also posted at the Battlestar Wiki, which has a ton of great information for fans of the show. In editing the transcript, we took the liberty of cleaning up grammatical errors and eliminating "ums" and other distractions in order to make it more readable.

In this interview, we explore the legal, political, economic, and social ideas raised by the show. If you prefer to hear to the interview, click here to listen to the audio files.

Below is the introduction to the interview and the transcript for Part I, which explores the legal system, morality, and torture. I couldn't fit the entire transcript into one post, so Parts II and III are contained in another post. Part II examines politics and commerce. Part III explores the cylons.

In the interview, Daniel Solove, Deven Desai, and David Hoffman ask the questions. We would like to thank Professor John Ip for suggesting some of the torture questions.

Our goal was to explore some of the themes of the show in a deeper manner than many traditional interviews. Ron and David graciously agreed to give us an hour of their time, and we had a fascinating conversation with them.

The new Battlestar Galactica, which premiered initially as a miniseries in 2003 on the SciFi Network, is only loosely based on the earlier show by the same name during 1978 and 1980. The new Battlestar Galactica is breathtaking science fiction, and it has widespread appeal beyond science fiction fans. Numerous critics have hailed it as one of the best shows on television. Time Magazine, for example, listed it as one of the top television shows and described it as "a ripping sci-fi allegory of the war on terror, complete with religious fundamentalists (here, genocidal robots called Cylons), sleeper cells, civil-liberties crackdowns and even a prisoner-torture scandal."

The show chronicles the struggle for survival of a small band of humans who escaped a devastating genocidal attack by intelligent robots called cylons. The humans created the cylons for use as slaves. The cylons rebelled and a war erupted between the humans and cylons. But a truce was reached, and the cylons disappeared. But forty years later, the cylons launched a massive surprise attack, destroying the human society (called the Twelve Colonies) with nuclear missiles. Only a small group of humans aboard spaceships survived.

Battlestar Galactica depicts the humans’ difficult fight for survival and the tough choices they must make along the way. The cylons have developed technology to allow them to take human form, and some of the humans within the group of survivors are really cylons. The show is heavily influenced by modern events, especially terrorism, war, and torture.

Battlestar Galactica was honored with a prestigious Peabody Award and twice as an official selection of the American Film Institute top television programs for 2005 and 2006.

Because the show explores so many interesting issues so deftly, it has attracted a large group of fans in the legal academy. We know of many law professors who count Battlestar Galactica as one of their favorite shows, and this is why we thought it would be fascinating to speak with the creators and writers of the show -- Ron Moore and David Eick.

Ron Moore is a co-creator, executive producer, and writer of Battlestar Galactica. Previously, Ron wrote or co-wrote 27 episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, including the two-hour series finale "All Good Things," for which he won a Hugo Award in 1994. That same year, Ron was honored with an Emmy Award nomination and was eventually promoted to producer. In 1994, Ron joined the writing staff of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine as supervising producer and was elevated to co-executive producer the following year. Ron spent five seasons on the series until the end of its successful run in 1999. In the fall of 2002, he was named show-runner and executive producer of HBO’s critically-acclaimed one-hour drama Carnivale. In 2006 Ron was nominated for an Emmy Award for Best Writing in a Dramatic Series for his work on Battlestar Galactica. Ron studied political science at Cornell University, and he lives in California with his wife and three children. He has a blog, which he started during the Writer's Guild Strike.

David Eick is also a co-creator, executive producer, and writer of Battlestar Galactica. Prior to his involvement in Battlestar Galactica, David was Executive Vice President of USA Cable Entertainment (USACE), where he was the company’s point person to the creative community and oversaw all aspects of the division, which developed, financed and acquired product for initial exhibition on USA Network and SCI FI Channel. While there, the studio produced USA Network’s critically lauded drama series Touching Evil, as well as the hit series Monk. Prior to his network experience, David spent six years at Renaissance Pictures, where he held a variety of positions and produced the hugely successful syndicated series Hercules: The Legendary Journeys. David also co-developed and launched its successful spinoff, Xena: Warrior Princess. Additionally, David also produced many others shows. He recently developed The Bionic Woman for NBC. David graduated from the University of Redlands in California with a BA in political science. He resides in Los Angeles with his wife and three children.

For readers unfamiliar the show, you should catch up by watching the DVDs of the first few seasons. Currently, the show is about to start its fourth and final season on Friday, April 4th at 10PM Eastern.

Additionally, you can watch the movie Battlestar Galactica: Razor, a made-for-TV movie that premiered in fall 2007.

PART I-A: LEGAL SYSTEMS

Daniel Solove: Greetings, this is Professor Daniel Solove of the blog Concurring Opinions with professors David Hoffman and Deven Desai.

We're delighted to have the opportunity to speak with Ron Moore and David Eick, the creators of the terrific television show, "Battlestar Galactica", on the SciFi network. "Battlestar Galactica" chronicles a small group of humans that survived the mass destruction of their society by a group of machines they created. The machines are known as the Cylons.

As "Battlestar" enters its fourth and final season, it enjoys tremendous stature. The show has been one of the most critically acclaimed TV shows. It raises many fascinating legal, political, economic and social issues. And we're here right now with Ron Moore and David Eick, the two writers, co-creators, producers of the show, to talk about some of the issues with them.

Ron and David, thanks so much for being here with us today.

Ron Moore: Well, thank you for having us. It's a pleasure to be here.

David Eick: Absolutely.

Deven Desai: Fantastic! So this is Deven Desai, and I wanted to kick off with a somewhat general framing question. At a very simple level--but from the mental level -- I’m trying to get at exactly what role the law plays in the show. And I think the real question there is: Is it fair to say that "Battlestar" examines what happens to a social and legal system under extreme stress, and maybe even questions whether there is law at all in those circumstances?

Moore: Yeah, I think that is a fair way to put it. I think from the very beginning, one of the things we wanted to examine in the show is what would happen in a circumstance where civilization as we know it was literally wiped out, and you and a bunch of other survivors would gather together. What elements of the existing society would you choose to continue? What are the things that you would leave behind? What are the things you would try to retain?

It's called "Battlestar Galactica," so it has a very strong military component to it, but I felt very strongly from the get-go that there are other remnants of the civilization here, and [we needed to know] how they organize themselves, what kind of government they have. What the role of law was in that circumstance [post-apocalypse] was one of the key ideas we wanted to start talking about right from the mini-series.

In fact, in the mini-series you'll see that one of the first questions that comes up is the line of succession for the presidency -- what role the president has in that circumstance versus the military. By the end of the pilot, they settled into a bit of compromise between Laura [Roslin] and [Commander William] Adama.

President Laura Roslin

Eick: Right. It is also important to point out that [the military vs. government issue was] one of the things, I thought, Ron's script for the pilot (the mini-series) [addressed] so well. In fact, [it] really intuitively circumvented some of the things that befall a lot of so-called genre sci-fi pieces when they try to examine or postulate legal precedents or refer to laws.

There was a show called "Century City" on a while ago which was a law show about the future. And I was friendly with some of the executives who made it. Not to pick on "Century City", but I remember saying at the time: “You know, guys, the joy of a law show -- I know a lot of people who watch law shows (I don't) -- and not that "Battlestar" is -- but the joy of these [shows] is to match your wits against the characters in the piece.” [The joy of law shows is] to be able to go to yourself, "No, no! Brown vs. Board of Education you idiot, or whatever... [It is] to be able to have a common frame of reference. And the thing that I thought Ron's script did so well was to essentially say their world is our world. And we're not literal about that necessarily, but what I think we try to do is avoid the trappings of contrivance and deus ex machina to justify a story point when it hits against the reality of: "No, in our culture that wouldn't be allowed, we have a law about those kinds of things." We have things like freedom of speech and freedom of expression, and there are certain basics of the show that are essentially just transplants [from our society] that allow us to play fair with the storytelling and with the audience whenever a story point comes up that involves the law or the issue of morality or ethics.

Desai: Right. And I think, if I hear you right, that explains why there are remnants of the older legal system, but there are still -- because of the stress -- the military tribunals, there are criminal trials and civil actions. And it seems like lawyers lurk behind some of this. If I remember correctly, Adama's father [Joe Adama] is a defense attorney, and then you later have Romo Lampkin. And I'm wondering, how do the lawyers and these ideals play out with those characters? And are you exploring what pieces of the legal culture and system you keep or don't keep in developing a society that's perhaps reinventing itself?

Moore: Well, for Adama, we gave him the backstory that his father was a defense attorney who specialized in civil liberties, primarily because I wanted to say that about the character of Adama. Typically the military commander in a fictional world comes from a long line of military commanders, going back to the [American] Revolution or something, and I wanted to set him apart from that tradition. This is a man that believes in a lot of the ideals that the uniform stands for, and [he] approaches it from a slightly different point of view [than Laura Roslin], and I wanted to set him up in a different way than Laura. Laura came to this position through a different process, and her ideas of the law and how she would wield authority would come from a very different place as a character.

I think that the lawyers in the show, [such as] Romo Lampkin [whom] we've used, and the lawyers, laws, and things [we allude to], are in service of the idea: Okay, this society is destroyed, [and] it's very important for society to have a rule of law, to have a system that governs people lives -- even in this circumstance -- that they can rely on. There are ideas of justice and fairness within the society, but there's still picking and choosing which laws they're going to adhere to. We had a line in an episode that actually got cut: there was a press conference early on in season one where Laura's assistant, Billy [Keikeya], was fielding various questions from the press about all kinds of things, and someone actually asked about income taxes and whether they were going to be filing returns.

We played it as a joke -- you know, we'll get to that later, but it was an interesting notion because it was symbolic of the [idea] that if we're hanging on to this form of Republican government, and we're not trying to hang on to all the things we used to have, how far does that go? How far is the point where it becomes absurd, given the circumstances that they were in? But the notion was that we're going to try to hold on to as much of this democratic society as we can, that this was one of the founding beliefs of this culture. [It was] really, really important to them -- to hold on to this form of government and hold on to as many of the forms and rituals (and symbols of it) as possible because it defined them as a people. It defined them in terms of how they chose to view themselves.

The trial of Gaius Baltar

Desai: So as a follow up then, when you talk about how they choose to view themselves, it seems like there's a real contrast in terms of evolution of society. In [the episode] "Litmus," you have these early almost Crucible-like interrogation boards or inquiry boards, and later on you get to [Gaius] Baltar's trial and the acquittal, which reminded some of us of South Africa's truth and reconciliation commission -- where you examine something without prosecuting it. Obviously, as you develop stories, sometimes things take on their own life, but was there an evolving plan for these sorts of crucial moments of the story? Were the characters getting to these, "How are we really going to do it when we're up against the wall here?" [moments]?

Moore: Yes. There was a certain evolution in our thinking of the culture within the show, and I think it just grows out of the fact that, in season one, soon after the apocalypse and the destruction of their world, it's sort of like everything is up for grabs at that point. Everything is possible. Tribunals can go far astray. Laura can pretty much rule by dictate.

A lot of it has to do with observing of our society in the post-9/11 aftermath, and how everyone was willing to do a lot of things that the government asked them to do in those early days without real question. So we wanted to reflect that into the show, but as time went on you start to settle in and say "Ok we're not going to do that anymore" and "Wait a minute, maybe this was too far" and "Let's really re-gather and decide what the rules of the society are." And that happened in the writer's room, as well as on the show. [When] we're [no longer] a few months after the attack [and] a few years have gone by, and here's a former president of the Colonies [Baltar] up on treasonable charges, [we] feel that this has to be examined in a different context than the earlier sort of tribunal-type formats would have permitted.

Eick: It's funny you know, and this sounds to be more political than it is, but [in] the episode "Pegasus" in season two, a long lost ship [found the] small fleet and [was] helmed by an admiral [Helena Cain] who outranked Adama and who, as the story wove on, was a war criminal, basically, and was someone [to whom] human rights were utterly meaningless in the face of war and [who just] did what [she thought] needed to be done. And I felt like that epitomized a lot of what was going on with the culture [in America post 9-11]. There was a certain, "Whatcha gonna do about it?" that seemed to be in the culture. It isn't so much to say, “Well gee, look at what our real life administration did” as much as it was to say, "What could it do? Where would the line be drawn? Would one be drawn?” There was this feeling of recklessness in the air [post 9-11], and I do think that it served [to some degree as a starting point]. [But] we said on a number of occasions that we don't rip headlines to serve as starting points for storytelling. We're not "Law & Order." We're not looking to do literal metaphors necessarily, and yet it was impossible to dodge the sense of what was creeping into our culture.

So [let’s] get back to your question, “Where did you decide to adhere to the strictures of our modern, contemporary legal system? Where did you decide to deviate?” It was more about: What would you buy? What feels real? What feels like: "Gosh, that kind of feels contemporary, that kind of feels resonant with what's happening today"? I like a show where you're making it up as you go, and you’re able to pull solutions out of your hat whenever you want because you made the rules up anyway. [But] this [attempt to be contemporary and resonant with current events], I think, maintained enough of a sense of reality and a connection to our culture that we didn't feel allowed to do that. That there were repercussions, even in a situation like the tribunal, where the nature of the discussion was: "Well, hold on a second. You can't do that." And a part of you goes, "Well, why not? We've already done this!" And that seemed to reflect what was going on in the culture anyway. So in that way it felt real.

Admiral Cain aboard the Pegasus

PART I-B: TORTURE, NECESSITY, AND MORALITY

Solove: I'd like to explore some of the issues involving the show's depiction of torture, which occurred at several points during the show. It's obviously a huge area up for debate after 9/11. How did the United States experience of torture affect the way that you chose to depict it in the show?

Moore: It's interesting [because of] the fact that there was actually a question suddenly, which in the first time of my experience in this country was actually a subject of discussion. There was a notion that [torture] was permissible under some circumstances but not others, or at least we should have a public debate about it. And that alone just felt like . . . well, okay then, just by having it in our show we would touch into what's going on in America today. I think that given the circumstances of where they are, it was completely believable that people in different circumstances would choose to use aggressive, physical coercion on their enemies.

[This is] especially [true] in the circumstance [in the show] where we have the distinction [between humans and cylons.] [In the show,] Kara ["Starbuck" Thrace] and the rest of the Colonial officers did not view the Cylons as legitimate people. They were not accepted as [humans] -- they were not human, and they did not have the rights of humans, and they would not be accepted as anything other than machines. So when we approached the first episode that really dealt with this, "Flesh and Bone," one of the key concepts was: ”Well, it's a machine.” Is there anything morally wrong about beating a machine? And torturing machines? And making a machine go through all kinds gyrations? It's a thing, and if this thing in front of you screams and cries and bleeds, can you ignore that? Can you as a human being distance yourself from the visual, from the empathetic impulse, and say, "Oh, I have to keep reminding myself this thing is not real. It's just a really good simulacrum. It's a really good software program. It's designed to fool me into believing it's human"?

And we wanted to play with that [issue] in the show, and that no matter how much Kara told herself that, how much she told that to Leoben [Conoy], she couldn't help but have a human connection. She couldn't help but be affected by what she was doing within the show. I think when we approached that episode we were a little bit more interested in the dynamic between interrogator and subject -- how does the emotional response reverberate back and forth? -- than we were really invested at that point in legal questions. We took as a given that Kara could walk into that room and do whatever she felt she had to do. She could have probably chopped his arms off if she felt like she wanted to, because Adama essentially told her at the top of the show, "It's a machine, don't forget that. Don't get involved." But we were interested in this more character-oriented idea.

Kara tortures Leoben in the Season 1 episode "Flesh and Bone"

Eick: That episode remains somewhat notorious in that it probably represented the most extreme period of tension and disagreement between ourselves and the network. I know those stories are legion, and show people like to talk about how they weathered the storms, and put up a good fight, and saved the show from the cretins who've gotten their fingers. That has not been the case with this show at all. We've actually enjoyed a great deal of support and a lot of courageous spiritedness and boldness from this network.

However, in that particular case, there were drafts of the script that were pretty extreme in terms of what Kara was going to do to Leoben, and they were emblematic of what was going on at Guantanamo and places like that, and the connection to our own culture was probably a bit more literal and precise and less metaphorical than it had been [in other episodes of the show]. But as a microcosm, in and of itself, it serves as an example of what Ron was just talking about -- which is that we would find ourselves saying things like, "But it’s not a person, why are you telling us to cut the scene where she gouges his eyeballs out?! No, there wasn't that scene, but why are you giving us grief about this?” In a way, it became our argument because we were trying to take something real and force the audience to have the same trouble with it that the network was having. Anyway, it was just an interesting microcosm of everything you were saying.

Solove: I heard that the show's ethos is encapsulated by the line, "It's not enough to survive, one must be worthy of survival." As you both talk about the depiction of torture and how extreme it is, there are views such as, "Look it's just robots." But there are also times when [humans such as] Gaius Baltar get tortured [in Season 3's "Taking a Break From All Your Worries"]. To what extent did you want to portray [torture] in a way that got so extreme that in fact it earned the audience's sympathy, or got the audience to say, "Wait a second. This isn't effective," or "It is effective"? To what extent did you depict [torture] to try to illustrate certain points about torture, and its effectiveness or non-effectiveness, or the justifications for it, or the arguments against it?

Moore: I think our goal was to stay away from that, actually. We were sort of at pains in the story discussion room and at the script phase to not send [any particular] message [about torture]. We were trying not to say, "Hey, guess what, torture's bad!" or to go through the rationalizations of why it should be employed in certain circumstances. We really just wanted to put the audience in the room and make them really uncomfortable. We really wanted them to struggle (we like to do this a lot in the show) -- we wanted them to struggle with [the questions]: "Who am I supposed to be rooting for in this circumstance? Whose side am I on? I thought I was on her [Kara’s] side because [Leoben has] said he's got a nuke somewhere in the Fleet, and that's a pretty scary thing, and Kara, you better do what you’ve got to do to get the information out of him. . . . Okay, now I'm sitting here, and now I have to watch him be smacked around, blood flowing from his mouth, and watch him be, in essence, water boarded. And I'm starting to really feel uncomfortable with that. And I'm starting to feel like she's going too far and . . . wait a minute . . . whose side am I on?"

We just wanted to ask the questions. We really just wanted the audience to have to get in that room and really search their own souls for how they felt about this, and what's right and what's wrong. [We wanted] to just let it live in the ambiguity of the circumstance. That's something that television generally shies away from. Ambiguity is not something networks like. They like an answer. Give the audience an answer. Tell them who's the good guy, who's the bad guy. Let them root for justice and boo at evil.

Our show, I think, is at its best when you're just not sure, [when] you're just uncomfortable because you can't decide -- should Gaius Baltar get off the hook or not? -- when you’re struggling with these moral dilemmas. I don't think we [as writers] need to have the ego that says, "Hey, guess what, I've got the answer to torture in 44 minutes or less, and here it is." It was just like, "Okay, this happens, this is a real world circumstance. Here's the classic ticking-bomb scenario, and here's the guy [Leoben] who says he knows where it is. What are you going to do?" And here it happens, and he starts talking, and he [Leoben] gets into her [Kara’s] head. It just becomes this very complicated wash of emotions.

Solove: It's interesting too in that you, to some extent, avoided the issues that have plagued the show "24." There was a New York Times story about the politics of depicting torture in "24" and criticizing the show for the way it depicted torture. To what extent do you feel that you managed to survive that kind of criticism? Also, more broadly, to what extent do you feel pressure at all from the Left, the Right, or others in terms of how you depict certain hot topics such as torture?

Eick: You know, I'll just say briefly, that's the great thing about science fiction. Exactly that point. I don't watch "24," I don't know what their issues were, what kind of trouble they got into, but I would reckon that we'd probably be able to get away with exactly what they tried to do, and got in trouble for, in a different way because of the nature of sci-fi, and the fact that it tends to not, frankly, be taken as seriously. People can look down their nose at it, or say, "That's just a fantasy" or "That's just an escapist piece" -- with the exception, of course, of the people who actually watch shows like "Battlestar" and they realize that's not the intent. But I do think the genre has always served as an excuse or justification or a metaphorical way to talk about the issues of the day and what's happening in the culture without necessarily having to be subjected to the same kind of scrutiny [that is directed at] something that's doing it in a literal way.

Moore: One of the hallmarks of our success is that we get glowing reviews from The National Review [and also] from Salon. I think that just says a lot. We're not trying to play everything down the middle, where it's just neutral. There are ideas and messages and themes strewn throughout the show, but I think we always try to make it really ambiguous, and let the audience take away from it what they will. Some people will see exactly what they want to see in the given circumstances, and I'm sure there are people on the Right who watched the torture scenes and felt like, "Well, absolutely! She's justified in doing whatever she's got to do to get that information out of that guy." And there are probably people who on the Left felt like it was appalling and sympathized completely with him, and there were probably people on both sides who had their views challenged and felt vaguely uncomfortable about holding the position that they started with.

Solove: It's a great testament to the show it does have fans both on the Left and the Right, especially when it tackles issues that have been hot button issues on both sides where there's so little agreement. So I think that's quite a testament to the show.

I'd like to shift a little bit to a related issue, which is the issue of necessity and morality. Throughout the show there seems to be a tension between instrumental necessity and moral principle, and we see characters doing things that they often find contrary to their own morality and principles. Examples would be Roslin trying to rig an election, people turning into terrorists to fight the Cylons [on New Caprica], the destruction of a ship [the Olympic Carrier] in "33" with over a thousand people on it. To what extent do you think these decisions have effects on the people that make them and on the human society? And how have you've chosen to depict those effects?

Moore: I always think it's interesting when people run up against practical circumstances [and are forced] to try to go against things they've believed in their whole lives, and they find themselves doing that which they abhor, or that which they've sworn that they would never have done. I think it affects them in profound ways, and on some level it just brings in simple guilt and brings in a lot of self-loathing about certain actions, but it also makes them strive to over-compensate in some ways and to be more heroic next time.

I think the show is always interested in these barriers that people set up. "These are the bounds I will not step over. This is what defines me as a human being, and I'm going to hold that banner up high, no matter what, and I’m never stepping over this line . . . until I've got to step over this line." That's just human. To me, it's always what people perceive as human failings. In a lot of ways, our defeats and our failures tell us more about ourselves as human beings than our victories do.

Solove: One thing the show often does is present us with situations where the military leaders have to act and make some very tough and sometimes very ugly decisions. I think the show is about these hard choices that people have to make. On the one hand, the show demonstrates the importance of deference to the military leaders. But on the other hand, there are also instances where there are objections to [the military leaders’] decisions. Lee Adama often engages in acts of civil disobedience, and we also have Colonel [Saul] Tigh's rather unwise military decisions (as compared to [Commander] Adama's mostly wise decisions). What do you think the appropriate level of deference to afford military judgments is? How do you depict the tension between the respect and understanding that should be given to their judgments versus the questioning that should be [given] to their judgments?

Eick: Were you asking about whether we feel a responsibility to depict it in a particular way?

Solove: Mainly just what your aims are, rather than your responsibility. Is this a question you thought of? Is this an issue that you think of as you present these choices?

Moore: Well, I think David and I are both students of history. In particular, I'm a student of military history, and I have always been fascinated by the fact that the military attracts a lot of different kinds of people in different eras and in different circumstances, but they're all people. It always seems like there's this tendency in popular culture or popular media when you’re doing a piece about the military. It splits into two broad categories. There's this “put them all on a pedestal” [depiction] -- that [military people are] just wonderful, amazing, heroic people. Even when they do terrible things they're still doing it for the noblest of causes, with everyone's best interests in mind. Or, [in the alternative depiction,] they're committing the My Lai Massacre, and they're degenerates, and they're bloodthirsty, and they're the cavalry guys in "Dances with Wolves" that can't wait to kill those Indians. And it just seemed like the cliché -- the truth is somewhere in between. There's a lot of conflicting currents and cross-currents that happen in military service. In a time of war, a lot of actions are taken in very specific circumstances by very specific people. You have to have a lot of broad play there to try to understand what they're doing and why, and it's always permissible to question that. It's always permissible to say, "Is this the right thing? Is this what we really want to do? Even though this is the smartest tactical move, is that the step that we as a people are willing to take?"

It seems to me the show wants to continually ask that question. I didn't want the show to be a military piece about military people who just make all the decisions, and they're unquestioned throughout. Typically, in TV if you were doing something like this, the military would. . . . Well, they did this in the original ["Battlestar Galactica"] actually. In the original show, the military was in charge, and there was a titular civilian government, but whenever they spoke up they were essentially just straw men. They stood up and said, "Hey, we don't think that you should do that Adama!" And they were invariably wrong. They were always wrong. They were always out of line, and they were always portrayed as just fools or naïve, or something really stupid. The military was always the wiser, more paternalistic organization. I felt like that's not really my society, I don't want that to be my society. There's a balance between trying to win and trying to win in a way that is worthy of winning. There are competing interests here. The military is an arm of politics, like the old saying goes, and it's all about [this]: If you try to achieve a certain end, what means are you willing to go to do that? Just because destroying the village might be the smartest way to get from A to B, is it really worth it to get to B?

Eick: Ron was just talking about the human story beneath whatever the military issue might be. For sure, I think we're about to see when the political season really gets going, a story about one of the candidates is going to be all about personal perseverance despite an abject military fuckup. That's something we relate to, that's something [like John McCain's story]: it's not [about] John McCain the solider, it's about John McCain the policy maker. It's not John McCain the field general, it's John McCain the survivor who, in spite of what was perpetrated on him, in spite of the illegitimacy of the war he was in the middle of, [or] in spite of the failings of his commanding officer, was able to eke out a survival and return home a hero. That's just a story we as a people relate to.

Solove: Thank you so much. These have been fascinating answers. We're going to conclude this first part of the interview and shift in the second part to looking at some issues about politics and commerce in the Colonies.

Click here to read the transcript for Parts II and III of the interview.

Posted by Daniel J. Solove at 10:09 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Battlestar Galactica Interview Transcript (Parts II and III)

This post contains Parts II and III of the transcript of our interview with Ron Moore and David Eick, the creators, producers, and writers of the TV show Battlestar Galactica. Joe Beaudoin, Jr., the project leader of the Battlestar Wiki, transcribed the interview for us. We edited the transcript, but the bulk of the work was done by Joe. The transcript is also posted at the Battlestar Wiki, which has a ton of great information for fans of the show. In editing the transcript, we took the liberty of cleaning up grammatical errors and eliminating "ums" and other distractions in order to make it more readable.

Our interview explores the legal, political, and economic dimensions of the show. Part II (see below) examines politics and commerce. Part III (see below) examines the cylons. Daniel Solove, Dave Hoffman, and Deven Desai pose the questions to Ron Moore and David Eick.

Click here to read Part I of the interview transcript, which examines the legal system, morality, and torture.

PART II: POLITICS AND ECONOMY

Dave Hoffman: I'm going to explore with you some of the political and economic themes in the show. Just like the [topics of the] legal system and torture that we've been talking about, [let's discuss] the [Colonials'] political and economic systems under severe stress. I wanted to talk a little bit about the economy to start.

So in the [season two] episode "Black Market," we learn that their current economic system looks like Soviet-era Russia with a state-run distribution of economic goods, supplemented by a black market [with] luxury [items] and medicines. [Earlier], in [season one's] "Bastille Day," we learn that the Fleet has engaged in forced labor in the past. Finally, we know from [season three's] "Dirty Hands," and maybe after "Dirty Hands," that there's a work rotation in place. All these systems imply an absence of a market economy. We know very little, however, about how the economy is supposed to work. Was this a deliberate dramatic choice?

David Eick: Before either of us answers, I just want to say that I'm sorry that [Dave] mentioned "
Black Market." I meant to sent a memo before this that no one was allowed to bring that up.

Hoffman: What's wrong with "Black Market"?

Eick (laughing): Oh nothing!

Ron Moore: Not one of my favorites.

Hoffman: Ah. . . .

Moore: [Regarding] the economic system, we started from the assumption [that] the Colonial society that was destroyed was very analogous to our own [American society]. It was a capitalist society; it was a democratic society. The culture was very similar [to our own]. We wanted all those touchstones. We assumed that there was an economic system very similar to that in which we operate now. We then started thinking in broader terms: Okay, there's Twelve Colonies. Each one is on its own planet, [and] they probably have a lot of variation [between] them. Probably more than the states [in the US] do between them, but maybe not [as much] as nations do between them. [The variation among them is] in some sort of middle ground between the two, [with] a certain amount of autonomy to each Colony, but they were in some federal existence.

Also, [they were] in some kind of trade partnership with one another [with] some commonwealth [like] notion. Then, after the apocalypse and the exodus from the Twelve Colonies, now [the people are] just in space, in just these ships. At that point, you had the top-down system. "Okay, we've got to distribute; we've got to divide up the supplies; we have to ration certain things; we have to make sure everyone is getting fed, everyone is getting clothed, everyone has fuel for their ships." It just felt like there had to be this very strong hand of authority from above.

But as things went on [the] black market would develop. Naturally, there would be the impulse to return to capitalist systems [and] that the market would assert itself. There would be a tension. The idea of the episode, "Black Market" -- which was a little too complex for television (and certainly in the way we went about it) -- was to try to illustrate that tension. Okay, here Laura [Roslin] is trying to guide them back to a market-driven system and introduce a currency [in an attempt to] move them off of an authoritarian scheme, but the black market was already getting more and more powerful. It was starting to devolve into power bases, and ruthlessness, and killings, and all these other things. It was supposed to be an episode to try to say: "The market will be heard even in that place, and you have to make some accommodation for the fact that people will be people. They will always try to trade what they have, and they will always seek out what they don't have."

A scene from the episode "Black Market"

Hoffman: So you guys don't feel like that episode succeeded as dramatically as you hoped it would. Is that one of the reasons you haven't returned to trying to figure out what daily economic life looks like on a civilian ship?

Moore: Partially, but also we were scalded by the experience dramatically. ["Black Market"] failed dramatically as a character piece and as a story. I just wasn't satisfied with it. It's also limited by the fact that, in a production sense for the show, production constraints are such that we have a great difficulty setting episodes aboard other civilian ships. It's very, very expensive and requires a lot of resources. We've generally chosen to put those resources into other areas, instead of completely setting up civilian society and an economic system somewhere else and really explore it.

But we've done a little bit [in that regard]. In "Dirty Hands," we went over and saw conditions aboard the [tylium] refinery ship and [explored the issue of] labor. [Also,] we brought civilians aboard Galactica in season three and put them downstairs in the hangar deck [a.k.a. "Dogsville"]. We wanted this [civilian group] to be its own little socioeconomic sub-group, but it just never quite pulled the drama for us as storytellers. We just kept on finding other things to do.

Eick: As Michael Rymer (our producer [who] directed the mini-series and [our] most memorable episodes) likes to say -- he's Australian -- "when I do somethin', I do it prop'rly." It's very difficult to do stories like that "prop'rly" because, as Ron was saying, [we have limited] production resources. And you'd be surprised [at how difficult it is to] cram the density of stories like this into 40 minutes. (That's what an hour of TV is now -- 40 minutes.)

Since it's difficult, you find yourself left to make the decision to spend those resources [between] the areas [of]: "Let's build a new ship. Let's do this, let's do that." Then you get into the cutting room and the episode's 20 minutes too long. Guess what goes? All the stuff you spent your resources building because the reality of the show [is that it] ultimately wants to be about these people in the places that the audience has been accustomed to seeing them. [By spending your resources building unique sets and other trappings] it just becomes a luxury you can't afford either economically or time-wise. I think eventually we gave up trying to make that a staple of the show.

It's worth mentioning that in the selling of the show, we had to go to great lengths to assure the network that the show would not be war-culture rooted. [We had to assure the network] that we would be exploring the elementary school ship, the shopping mall ship, the Disney Land ship, and the nightclub ships. None of that ever really happened.

Hoffman: It seems like that in the first and second season there were more forays into [life on ships in the Fleet], like the meeting ship [Cloud 9] or the movie theater ship. [Transcriber's Note: Hoffman is likely referring to "Downloaded" when the Cylons are watching D'Anna's transmission in a movie theater, which is presumably on the Colonies and not set in a ship.] [And this] didn't really go through, [so the answer to my earlier question] is going to be no. You're not going to do an episode from the perspective of ordinary Fleet members.

Ron, you've [worked on] both "[Star] Treks" ([The Next Generation] and [Deep Space 9]), and there are often these [episodes that] once in a while [were] not [focused on the] main characters.

Moore: Yeah, but the trick on those episodes (even in Trek) [is] that the point of view is usually [of] someone [who] is a low-ranking crewmember who is already aboard the Enterprise [like TNG's "Lower Decks"] or on board the space station. You're just shifting the perspective slightly, but not literally taking it off the ship and planting it somewhere else.

Hoffman: Right. I guess the big question is: Why do people do any work on the Fleet? In the absence of economic incentive to do so, are they forced to work at gunpoint? Is everyone like the folks [on the tylium ship] in "Dirty Hands"?

Eick: We've had a lot of conversation about that in "33," which is the first episode of the one-hour series. I remember boiling it down to a particular moment in which a mistake that Dualla had made [in losing the Olympic Carrier] had cost them dearly, and Tigh, walking up and down the CIC, was yelling: "We're all here to do our jobs."

I remember looking at the footage, and everyone's exhausted. They haven't slept in days and days and days. They look like they're about to keel over, and there was a part of you . . . . (I can't remember, Ron, if we talked about this in the story phase or the script phase, or edit phase. . . I can't remember), but there was a part of you that was [asking]: "Why are they doing their jobs? Why don't they just say, 'Blow me!' and throw up their hands and walk away?"

I remember the answer being [that] particularly when people are in dire straits, when it is all about survival, it's surprising how they do take solace in having a purpose, in having a role to play in that community structure, in the idea that they're a smaller part of a greater whole. That's actually part of human survival, and we would talk a lot about things like [for example, the fact that the Jews in Germany] would still have Hanukkah in concentration camps [during World War II]. There were jobs. There was a social structure within even the most desperate situations.

It's a really compelling question to me because I know that was a big question for us very early on. We all just said: "You know, they do it because to not do it is to die on some level."

The tylium ship in "Dirty Hands"

Moore: There was an interesting line that [Tom] Zarek had in [season one's] "Colonial Day," where he's making his case for a collectivist approach to their government, and [arguing that] they should leave all the trappings behind [from] the old system. He was with some reporters, walking around on that ship that had a simulated outdoors [Cloud 9], and he pointed over to a gardener and said, "This guy gets up every morning and goes to work, and he gardens. Why? To what end?" He said, "It's like we [are] all just repeating the motions. We're just repeating these tasks we used to do. We have lawyers who are still pretend to be lawyers." There was a sense of inertia, at least in those early days, that they all were going to continue to try to just keep doing what they used to do, because to give up that identity (to give up your identity as "the gardener," to give up your identity as "the lawyer") was to essentially cast [yourself] into the abyss. You would have no identity. So there were those pressures on these people as well.

Hoffman: I get that, essentially in the early seasons. I get that with the military and other collectivist sub-cultures. But after they have the interim on the planet [New Caprica] and then they go back to the Fleet, the question I've always had was: "Why are there journalists still?"

Moore: The society does have to do things like propagate information, so it seemed like there was an incentive for the government to want to have a press, to want to have ways of conveying information. If you believed in a free press, and if you believed that it was fundamental to a democratic society, you would allow the journalists to continue to operate like that and not appoint your own minister of propaganda.

Hoffman: I understand why the government would want it, but what do the people (such as the journalists) get out of it?

Moore: Yeah, one of the things that we've skirted around a little bit is how they are compensated. We initially were going to dispense with the idea of money, that the whole thing was going to evolve to a barter system. That became very awkward just for dramatic purposes, to continually just barter for everything. You'll see some examples of that in the early days. Baltar bets his shirt in a poker [triad] game and et cetera.

We just defaulted to an idea that they're still going to use currency. We want to keep using currency in the show for dramatic purposes. Let's just assume that, somehow, the economic system has asserted itself. They still place value in money in some way, shape, or form. They all decided [to continue to place value on their currency], like we decide in this strange dream of a world where pieces of paper with dead presidents on it has real value. Somehow, they ascribe the same meaning to whatever form of currency they've got. It's still scarce; it's still buys you things; it still wants to make you accumulate it; it accrues wealth and status to you if you have it.

Once we've accepted that premise, it felt like somebody's paying somebody in some fashion we don't quite understand and we don't want to examine. We don't know what really stands behind it. There's nothing of intrinsic value backing up the currency, but let's just slide by that because if we look too closely to that aspect of the culture, it collapses and, darn it, we need them to be making bets in the poker game with something.

Eick: The journalist thing is so funny. I can't remember what the first episode was that we introduced the press conference in, but I was on the set, and somehow or another, that question came up. It may have been Eddie Olmos who asked. He loves to provoke exactly this category of things. "Why would that do that!?" [And I would say], "Eddie, you're not in the scene." [And he would reply:] "I don't care, why would they [do that]?"

I remember saying to the director, "You see those people over there? Those 8, 16, or 20 extras that we have? They were journalists back in the day, before the attack. It's what they know." It's like what Ron was saying earlier: It's a way they have of maintaining their identity. "You see those 4 people over there? They always wanted to be journalists, but they couldn't get arrested before the attacks, and now here's their chance! And you see those three people over there? They fucking hate journalism and think the whole thing is a crock, and they've basically infiltrated the room because they can see if they can somehow undermine it."

Everyone went, "Ok, that works!" There was at least a system of logic, even though when you watch the episode there's no telling the difference between the three categories.

Hoffman: But one of them [D'Anna Biers] was a Cylon, as we learn later. . . And I guess that makes a good transition to [what] Deven's going to talk to you about the Cylons . . . although I can talk to you about the economy all day long.

PART III: CYLONS

Deven Desai: To loop back to some of the things we said earlier, you pointed out [one of] the liberating aspects of having Cylons is that you can explore things that [become a little more touchy] in other contexts [such as when just humans are involved.] In some ways it reminds me of Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream Electronic Sheep? and then the Blade Runner adaptation, where you seem to be playing with these ideas of implanted memories in Boomer, reminding me a little bit of Rachel [the Blade Runner replicant character]. The whole question out there is whether Decker is a replicant or not. At one level, it seems that you're also looking at this question of what is it to be human. How do we treat those whom we see as different? Is that part of the lens that you're playing with?

Moore (jokingly): First of all, what's Blade Runner? It figured into our discussions from Day 1. Very influential.

Eick: And yes, Deckard is a replicant, for the record.

Moore: You've really put your finger on it. That's something David and I have discussed from the moment we decided the Cylons were going to look like human beings. It raised all these questions which I just thought were fascinating. It just felt like that's really what the show's about. What is it to be human? What does it mean to be a person? The Cylons say they have souls. Can we say they don't? How do we grant them status as people? What does it mean to be human? What are the attributes of being human? How would you know if you're human [or] if you're a Cylon?

All these questions felt fascinating, and it felt like the deeper we got into the series the more they came up. The more the Cylons exhibited human traits and human characteristics, the deeper and tougher the questions [became]. In the pilot, [the Cylons are] mostly off-camera. We only really meet a couple of them -- they are pretty much the faceless enemy. They're the enemy from beyond. They come; they destroy; they kill; they're chasing [us]. They're just implacable, they're monsters. They're literally machines, and they're after you. There are hints along the way that there's something more than that: that they have deeper interests.

[Like] Number Six in particular: she wants to be loved, she expresses a faith in god. Then the punch comes at the end [of the miniseries] when one of the characters you come to know and love--Sharon--turns out to be a Cylon. As the series went on, we started to develop the Cylons more and more deeply. We started treating them as simply human. They were human in all but name. They had a specific cultural history. They were a new civilization that had only been around for about 40 years, and they had very different ideas of truth and justice. They had different ideas of the cosmology of the universe and their place in it. They saw us as the enemy. We just started to play those ideas off against each other.

A cylon, model number six

Desai: Right. It seems like [that has been the case] all the way through then. If I remember correctly, even when Leoben is ejected in space [in "Flesh and Bone"] you have Starbuck pray for him. It was a great moment, I thought. Once you come into direct contact with something you set up as other, it becomes harder to not think of it as such, especially when [Cylons] look so much like humans. [The show develops] this dichotomy [between a simple] ruthless civilization [and a civilization with something of value to offer, perhaps with some attempt to mimic human civilization]. Is the humans' belief system starting to have to construct the notion of: "Are our principles broad enough to encompass a group that is empirically not human, yet seems to mirror a lot of what humans are about?" Or are they going to be able to draw that line and say, "No matter what, that's the dividing line. Our principles don't apply. Our notions of what it is to be a sentient being that matters cuts off [at] this stage, because their spines glow red and they tend to wipe us out"?

Moore: I think that is the question of the show, which they've struggled with throughout. [William] Adama in particular has tried to draw a very bright line and say: "There are us, and there are them, and there's no crossing of [that line]." Like I was talking about earlier, Adama gets to a place where he accepts Sharon ["Athena" Agathon] as a person. He does it because of a human interaction he has with her in particular, and most of that occurred off camera (which is a bit of a cheat), but most of it occurred during the missing year [between "Lay Down Your Burdens, Part II" and "Occupation"] where the [Colonials] are on New Caprica. Our back-story was that Adama used to go down and sit in that jail cell with her because he had a lot of time on his hands. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what this being was, and he found himself confessing things to her, talking to her, listening to her. Over the course of time, he just, at some point, stopped thinking of her as a machine and started to think of her as a person.

If you asked him, he would probably say [that] she's different or something. He would probably not be willing to really extend that idea to them as a nation, because it just raises a host of other issues. It challenges some pretty basic assumptions. It challenges the ways they do business. It challenges the righteousness of their cause and how they view themselves.

Laura [Roslin] has to believe that [the Cylons] are just machines in order to contemplate in taking a genocidal act and even in that episode [season three's "Torn"], Adama's in a place where he's hesitating. He doesn't really want to do it, even though he can't come out and say, "Well, we can't do it because they're legitimate people, and they have souls like we do, and therefore we can't wipe them out." It doesn't feel right to him. His heart, his instinct as a human being [is that they] feel like they're about to cross a line. He himself is actually already crossed the line to accepting them as something more than he thought.

Desai: So on the Cylon side of that equation, they have their own culture and society. The religion seems to play a large role in their culture, in this rather unique and directed vision of what they're about. That seems to rub against the humans' vision of the world. I'm wondering what was happening with the Cylon perspective in terms of how they felt they had been treated by the humans, and whether or not there could be a peaceful solution to the friction. Or [was their view] "we've just waited until we're ready, and we [will] just come at you"? It seems as though their religion plays a part in that role, but is there something else at work in the Cylon society?

Eick: One of the subtexts of their agenda, and it did go back to the earliest conversation Ron and I had about this area, was that there would be an agenda to take the baton from humanity and pursue the next phase of evolution -- that it was the Cylons' time. Therefore, we could dispense with what typically seems to have accompanied antagonists in stories like [the old "Battlestar Galactica"], where they have an axe to grind, a bloodthirsty agenda, a grizzly destiny that they're trying to perpetrate -- and somehow [if] we can just get away from them, we'll be okay.

That all seems so old hat, and it felt like maybe you'd do that in a movie, but in a series you needed somehow -- we've talked a lot about this -- to emphasize with the antagonists, to feel that their point of view was justifiable, that it had legitimacy, that you could not only relate to it, but also sympathize with it. So we talked a lot about different cultures that found themselves faced with questions like that. How do we press on? How do we move forward? At one point, I remember we were talking about "Planet of the Apes" because [it] had that notion, that story about [apes vs. humans]. Human beings just sort of assumed that: "You guys [apes] are done. You had your time, and now it's our time." Then what would happen is that the apes just wouldn't go away. In this story, we're the apes. We're the ones who were not as evolved and who won't go away.

So I think in that regard, it always allowed us to continue to... It's not that we haven't depicted the Cylons as misbehaving. (laughter) We tend to maintain a sense of their having a reason for what they're doing beyond bloodthirst and ennui.

Moore: Another thing about what's happening on the Cylon side is that they're a very young culture. They really have not been around that long, but they're a full-blown society of sophisticated, thinking beings that are at a level of human understanding of what society is, and [they have] concepts of morality and philosophy. In some ways, they've evolved past us, but they've only been around for a few decades. </