Star Trek Voyager’s “Tuvix” Is More Than Just a Thought Experiment: It’s a Human Story
The human element at play in the sci-fi tale of a combined being is just as important as its ethical quandary.
Fans remember “Tuvix” for its moral dilemma, and for good reason. Star Trek: Voyager offers as fantastical and compelling a twist on the famous Trolley Problem as you’re ever likely to find. A classic transporter hiccup combines two different men into one singular being. And in the time it takes to find a solution, that person has scratched out a life for himself aboard Voyager.
So do you choose to act and end his life, in the hopes of recovering the two souls lost by his creation? Or do you instead choose to keep the new status quo, in the name of not snuffing out this new life?
The question has led to endless debates among fans and philosophers alike. I tend to believe more in utilitarian ethics (broadly speaking, the belief that morality hinges on the consequences of our actions) than in deontological ethics (in general, believing morality hinges on following the proper ethical rules). So when it comes down to it, I think Captain Janeway made the right call here, however difficult it may be.
Nevertheless, the beauty of “Tuvix”’s premise, like so many great Star Trek episodes, is that it’s reasonable for viewers to be on either side of the issue. The gray areas at play prompt us to contemplate how we might handle this type of hard call and to debate the issue in the same way the characters do.
But revisiting the infamous episode, I find myself less drawn to the space age thought experiment, and more engrossed in the human story of a new life coming into being. The challenge of everyone on the ship adjusting to the loss of old friends in Tuvok and Neelix, and to the arrival of the eponymous Tuvix in their place, is just as worthy as an element of the plot.
The best Star Trek episodes don’t just throw out the cool, high concept premise-of-the-week and then let an academic debate unfold. Instead, they find a personal connection to the problem du jour, exploring the human complications that make reaching a clear moral choice trickier than simply finding the right ethical rubric to apply.
So beyond the big philosophical debate of the hour, this episode asks what I’d ultimately contend is the more interesting question. What would it be like to suddenly be two people at the same time, at once familiar to, and yet utterly alien to, everyone around you? At the end of the day, Tuvix himself is the story.
To the point, Tuvix’s journey is more interesting than his destination. The way he feels great affection for Captain Janeway, for his beloved Kes, for an entire crew whom he considers family, as they initially bristle but eventually warm to him, is one of those strange but very humanistic stories that only science fiction can tell.
For the moral dilemma to have emotional force, though, you need the audience to like Tuvix, to consider wanting him to stick around in the same way the crew might. Seeing the way he relates to his reluctant friends and goes through a personal trial in the process, makes that possible.
Guest actor Tom Wright portrays Tuvix and deserves a ton of credit on that front. He cuts the perfect figure of a midpoint between Tuvok and Neelix: at once gregarious and reserved, friendly but measured, with a tone and a presence that legitimately sells him as the combination of two familiar players. The character is well-written to be sure, but this is a tricky concept to sell. Wright not only finds the right notes to hit so as to evoke the performances of his two fellow actors, but also gives Tuvix a gentle, likable quality on his own that makes the character endearing in his own right.
Hell, I like the boldness of the idea that this peculiar hybrid individual might even be a better crewman than either of the two men who constituted him. Tuvix’s ability to trust a hunch and speak his mind seem to make him a better officer than the talented but overly doctrinaire Tuvok. And his ability to restrain himself and observe a little tact seems to make him a better chef and morale officer than Neelix.
Tuvok and Neelix remain two great members of Voyager’s cast, and I wouldn’t want to lose them. But even I came around to seeing how Tuvix makes a strange sort of sense aboard the starship, to where you could see the producers making a tough call of their own at some point.
And yet, part of what makes the character endearing is how he, and others, struggle with this monumental change at the same time Tuvix is becoming an indispensable member of the crew. He calls Kes “sweetie” but keeps a respectable distance once he realizes she’s still in mourning for Neelix. He’s deferential toward Captain Janeway but speaks up in senior briefings with good ideas.
In short, Tuvix becomes a true friend to those aboard Voyager, one who struggles to adjust a little to being two people at once, but who comes with their warm feelings for friends and partners, and a synthesis of the best qualities of each of them, that helps him get along.
I particularly appreciate the way the episode dramatizes how uncomfortable and yet inviting his presence is through Kes’ perspective. She’s not necessarily my favorite character on Voyager, but she makes perfect sense as a conduit for those mixed feelings about Tuvix’s existence, as someone with personal connections to both Neelix and Tuvok.
The ease of manner from this new soul, and the clear discomfort despite lingering affection within Kes makes for complicated emotions all around, and Voyager laudably leans into that emotional complexity. What I like best about the episode is that it takes the time to delve into what this strange situation must feel like for everyone involved, not just the technobabble solution or moral quandary at hand.
To that end, Kes’ late night confessional with Janeway over their struggles to accept Tuvix may very well be the best scene in the show to this point. There’s such an authenticity to their conversation that makes it shine.
Janeway speaks plainly but movingly about holding onto the hope that someday they’ll all be reunited with their loved ones, while fighting the lurking voice that says it’s time to accept their great loss and move on. The honesty between her and Kes, the understated direction and approach to the presentation, and the way it ties to Kes’ specific situation with Tuvix, works as a metonym for the whole crew’s predicament of being stranded light years from home, and is downright masterful.
It leads nicely to the crux of that ethical dilemma. When the Doctor and Harry figure out a way to split Tuvix back into his constituent parts, Tuvix himself objects. Both sides offer plenty of fascinating arguments in the process.
Tuvix maintains that it’s not the captain’s decision to make, but his and his alone. Janeway responds that someone has to consider the interests and rights of the two people who aren’t in the room right now. For his part, the Doctor refuses to participate in the procedure without Tuvix’s consent, in deference to his Hippocratic oath. Each perspective is valid. There are no easy answers here, and the show embraces the complexity and emotional fraughtness of the whole thing.
It also refuses to chicken out of forcing Janeway to make a tough call either way! I’ve often compared Voyager unfavorably to Star Trek: The Next Generation. But one of the TNG tropes I came to dislike is how the show would wrestle with some similarly thorny ethical dilemmas, only to regularly feature some convenient, external intervention that would keep the protagonist from ultimately having to choose between two impossible options.
But “Tuvix” doesn’t sidestep its tough decisions that way. Janeway decides to split Tuvix, and as the man himself puts it, she’ll have to live with that. There’s courage in having your main character make the hard choice, and I think it’s part of why this installment has lingered in the fandom’s consciousness for so long.
But again, what’s no less compelling is the effect that choice has on everyone in the crew. Kes has grown the closest to Tuvix in the time since the transporter accident. And yet, she’s not able to let go of Neelix or accept his loss. Tuvix asks her to intercede on his behalf, and instead she breaks down and all but begs Captain Janeway to bring her partner and her dear friend back. Right or wrong, it’s hard to blame her for wanting that, and another choice that reveals the beating heart of this story.
For her part, Janeway seems stoic, even cold, when carrying out the grim task to deconstitute Tuvix. There’s no apologies, no gentleness, just a quiet respect and dignified sense of carrying out her duty, right down to administering the injection to Tuvix herself, even knowing that it’s a prelude to effectively ending his life.
She projects the image of calm rectitude, until the doors of sickbay close behind her and, for a brief moment, you see the unavoidable weight this decision saddles her with. Her stoicism is a front, a measure to reassure the crew. But inside, with a single glance, you can see she’s as pained by this as anyone.
Well, almost anyone. Tuvix himself has a dignified but harrowing end. Even if, like me, you think that ultimately Janeway made the right choice, it’s hard not to see Tuvix as a martyr.
Supposedly, the writers originally tossed around the idea of Tuvix simply volunteering to be split for the good of the crew. But I like this creative choice -- to have him resist vociferously in word and in deed -- much better. It’s bolder. It puts the psychological costs of even defensible moral choices front and center. And it makes us feel his pain, as the people he thought of as his dearest friends and family sit silently, outwardly indifferent, to the end of his existence.
That is heavy, but also affecting. I still agree with Janeway, but it’s hard to watch Tuvix escorted to what is basically death row to save the lives of two others who we, and the crew, know and love no less. Therein lies one of the harder things to disentangle from our moral choices. It’s one thing to know what’s right, or accede to doing what our ethical principles tell us must be done; it’s quite another to carry the psychic weight of actually doing it.
In that, “Tuvix” remains a striking ethical thought experiment, brought to life with vivid characters and lived-in, complicated relationships that can only exist within the bounds of such a fantastical story. But it also brings home the personal costs, the hope and hardship, that come with navigating the morality of life and death decisions in fraught circumstances. That, as much as the thorny moral dilemma, has kept this episode such a vivid part of the inveterate Trekkie’s imagination.
If you’re excited for more Tuvix riffing, check out my review of Star Trek: Lower Decks’ brand new tribute to this very episode, cheekily titled “Twovix”, at The Spool!