Questioning science and genre

Introduction

Through its nine year run, The X-Files (1993–2002) engaged many of the facets of dangerous science fiction (SF): imagining another world that exists alongside the mundane, obscured by an unwillingness to see or deliberate efforts to conceal; the familiar made unfamiliar by the suggestion that appearances could be dangerously misleading; and political critique. Moreover, The X-Files challenged dominant genre tropes of the time, so much so that Chris Carter had sought to distance his creation from the SF label. Another ‘dangerous’ aspect of the series, and the main focus of this article, is its complicated articulation of the role of science in dealing with the unknown. During its original broadcast, The X-Files was viewed as dangerous for its potential to inculcate irrational or even antirational views in audience members. While certainly not presenting the stark bifurcation of science and belief that is often claimed, The X-Files did frequently present narratives in which the utility of scientific knowledge was brought into question. Such a critical exposition may be seen as especially dangerous for a genre that is sometimes characterized by its integration of science.

Dangerous to SF

Although the series is readily imported into discussions of the genre, and often features in edited collections about SF television, there is a generic indeterminacy that hangs over The X-Files. ¹ While the internal evidence of this will be examined later, the way that the series has been framed by creator and show-runner Chris Carter provides the first and perhaps most explicit of its challenges to the notion of SF. While David Nutter (quoted in Garcia and Phillips, 2009: 376), the director of several episodes, describes The X-Files as ‘an intelligent science fiction show’, as Delasara (2000: 63) correctly notes, ‘Carter denies his show is a science fiction text’. Reflecting on the series several years after its conclusion, Carter states:

I never thought of it as a science-fiction show to begin with, even though it was labeled as science fiction, because I wanted it to be in the realm of speculative science, the kind of what-if, taking hard science and applying an unexplained quality. (quoted in Phipps, 2008)

At first glance, this description is unlikely to conflict with what many people understand as SF. Indeed, outside of texts that can be classed as hard SF, much of the genre engages with ‘what if?’ scenarios and speculative science. The most distant point from SF is the ‘unexplained quality’ which Carter alludes to. This will be discussed in more detail below, but at this stage it warrants mentioning that this concept of the unexplained is closer to common notions of fantasy than SF. Carter’s account also highlights the problems associated with deploying SF as a term. Due to its multitude of potential applications, the inevitable result of diverse theorizations and vernacular suppositions, ‘science fiction’ can potentially hold too little descriptive value and fail to signify the particular textual features in question, or even contain unintended implications. Providing an academic counter to Carter’s distancing of the series from SF, Vest (2007: 106) argues that The X-Files’ ‘reliance on extraterrestrial life forms, alien spacecraft, and scientific mystery cements its debt to SF concepts and contexts’. Further elaborating, Vest contends:

In a March 8, 1996, Denver Post article titled ‘Resurgent Sci-Fi Shows Find Fresh Ideas, Complex Themes,’ Carter rejects the SF label in favor of positioning The X-Files as a program ‘more in the realm of the extremely possible’ … The notion of extreme possibility, which actor David Duchovny also embraced as a way to distance The X-Files from its SF roots, fits quite nicely within the parameters of science fiction. Carter and Duchovny may have resisted identifying The X-Files as science fiction because of the mediocre reputation that SF television series have received since the medium’s inception. (Vest, 2007: 126)

Vest’s postulation that negative perceptions of SF television were responsible for Carter’s hesitancy to align his series with the genre is at least partially valid and provides an example of the unintended implications cited above. Much of that reputation stems from the perception of SF television as inferior in comparison to the spectacle and grandiosity of SF film. By the time of The X-Files, SF television was not wholly maligned, with at least Star Trek (1966–9) ² having established a space for mature and cerebral content. However, the growth of the franchise with Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987–94) did not spur immediate production, according to Booker (2004: 111), because Star Trek was viewed as idiosyncratic, and therefore it was not until The X-Files and Babylon 5 (1994–8) that SF television expanded and began to achieve a better reputation more generally. This serves to show the importance of The X-Files as a series that was perceived to be within the genre irrespective of some of the claims made about it by Carter and Duchovny. Demonstrating that the same kind of positioning can nevertheless still occur, the remake of Battlestar Galactica (2004–9) was also explicitly distanced by its creators and lead actors from SF as part of efforts to identify the series as ‘quality TV’ (Porter et al., 2008: 37). That discourse includes a false dichotomy which regards SF television as in some way inherently opposite to quality television. In addition to what Vest supposes, there are other potential reasons that can be put forward. Perhaps Carter was more concerned with the limitations implied by being labelled SF than whether or not that was his genre of operation. Given the sometimes quite simplified view of SF that still persists despite the genre’s complex and varied history, Carter may have desired creative scope while also acknowledging the importance of science to the series.

The discourses of possibility that surround SF can be usefully incorporated here as a way to reacquaint The X-Files with the genre. Speaking in terms of the extremely possible implies that the narrative elements are not regarded as ventures into the impossible. Franklin (2009: 23) points out that notions of the impossible are associated with fantasy whereas ‘SF’s domain is the possible’. We need, however, to look more closely at the nature of possibility as it is understood in relation to SF. On this point, Gunn writes:

‘Possibility,’ of course, suggests subjectivity: one reader’s possibility may be another reader’s ridiculous fantasy. By ‘possibility,’ however, I mean that which is presented plausibly and which the reader is supposed to accept as real for scientific reasons, not as a willing suspension of disbelief. (Gunn, 2005: 84–5)

In practical terms, one person may subjectively accept the existence of ghosts, genies, and vampires (all of which appear in The X-Files), while another person may consign these figures to the realms of folklore and regard their existence as impossible. Gunn and others present alterations to science as the factor which renders narrative elements either plausible or not and thus gives to them an objective sense of possibility. Acceptance is thus not contingent on the fact of the narrative being fiction but rather on its use of scientifically styled explanations. The concept of the extremely possible fits into this framework as it would be an extreme possibility (or look such from our current intellectual vantage point) to overturn present scientific knowledge and admit faster than light travel, time travel, or certain other phenomena as possibilities. Kaku explores this notion in his Physics of the Impossible (2008) where he assesses the likelihood of various SF concepts, assigning them a place on a scale proportionate to their possibility in light of current science. As such, the concept of possibility within SF need not be excessively conservative.

The inclusion of science as a means of giving his fiction a sense of being possible is visible in both Carter’s recruitment of a science advisor as well the series itself. Supplementing his own lack of scientific education, Carter invited then Professor and Associate Head of the Department of Biochemistry and Molecular Biology at the University of Massachusetts, Anne Simon, known through his family, to act as science advisor. Carter (1999: 14) explains he ‘wanted to take a scientific approach to the subject, both psychological and genetic’, structuring his ‘extended story line’ around ‘accepted theories and fact’ for which Simon was essential as ‘a careful script reader who would call me on inaccuracies in the science’. Whether or not Simon was responsible for (or checked) all of the various scientific elements of the series, these are prominent traits within many episodes. As Delasara argues:

[The X-Files] uses science or the appearance of science to make its fantasy elements more believable … Theories and hypotheses, lab data, official records, formulas and discoveries, electronic gimmicks and gadgets in an unending stream are an integral part of every episode. (Delasara, 2000: 64)

Where problems arise in relation to whether The X-Files is participating in the kind of creation of the possible outlined above is with the fact that many of the scientific and scientifically styled aspects of the series are not attached to making departures from reality seem plausible. Fantastical creatures – including ghosts (‘How the Ghosts Stole Christmas’, 6.06), vampires (‘Bad Blood’, 5.12), and a genie (‘Je Souhaite’, 7.21) – are all introduced, but there are no naturalistic answers or scientific accounts of the creatures’ existence. This contrasts directly with the views of SF editor John W. Campbell (quoted in Gunn, 1986: 74), who stated, ‘Ghosts can enter science fiction, if they’re logically explained, but not if they are simply the ghosts of fantasy’. It is seemingly the ghosts, vampires, and genies of fantasy that appear in The X-Files. Lavery (2008: 287–9) uses Campbell’s sentiments to cast into doubt whether Lost (2004–10) can be regarded as SF given that it fails to ‘meet Campbell’s litmus test’. Much like its predecessor Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974–5), SF and fantasy genres exist alongside each other in The X-Files, leading to a blending of the possible and impossible. In some cases, miraculous abilities such as those belonging to the eponymous character in ‘Leonard Betts’ (4.12) are attributed to physical mutation, or genetic alteration as in ‘Alone’ (8.19). Other examples see speculations tentatively offered by Scully to account for what has happened, such as ‘Kaddish’ (4.15), where she attempts (unsuccessfully and unconvincingly in Mulder’s view) to rationalize the spontaneous combustion of a book of Jewish magic. However, nothing is said towards the end of that same episode about the nature of the golem creature apparently brought to life by the book’s magical spells. Moments such as this depict the seemingly magical, supernatural, and impossible. We can see in this how The X-Files challenges straightforward conceptions of the SF genre. It is also that absence of any scientific account of the series’ departures from reality which prompted direct criticism of The X-Files as challenging or undermining scientific and rational viewpoints.

Dangerous to science

At the height of its popularity The X-Files was criticized for being anti-rationalistic. In the view of Beyerstein (quoted in Garcia and Phillips, 2009: 374), ‘[The X-Files] feeds a trend toward conspiratorial thinking and belief in magic. If that thinking really takes hold, it diverts people from the kind of tough analysis and hard work that we really need to tackle some of the problems facing us today’. Probably the most famous antagonist of the series was Richard Dawkins who, in his 1998 populist book Unweaving the Rainbow: Science, Delusion and the Appetite for Wonder, claims, ‘The X-Files systematically purveys an anti-rational view of the world which, by virtue of its recurrent persistence, is insidious’ (1998: 28). In the 1996 BBC Dimbleby Lecture given by Dawkins, he similarly assailed the series by asserting:

[S]oap operas, cop series and the like are justly criticized if, week after week, they ram home the same prejudice or bias. Each week The X-Files poses a mystery and offers two rival kinds of explanation: the rational theory and the paranormal theory. And, week after week, the rational explanation loses. ³

The views of Dawkins in particular have been subjected to scrutiny. Responding to Dawkins’ implication that The X-Files could perniciously influence mass audiences, William B. Davis (2007: x) – who both completed a philosophy degree and portrayed The X-Files’ Cigarette Smoking Man – countered by stating, ‘Proponent of science that he is, [Dawkins] has offered no scientific evidence that the show actually influences the way people think’. Whether it does or not is largely a question that extends into reception and audience studies, placing that particular contention outside the scope of this article. More important to the current examination is how well these views accord with The X-Files itself. After pointing out the lack of evidence of such anti-rational action among ‘X Philes’ (some of the series’ most ardent and vocal fans), Kowalski (2007: 7–8) draws attention to the discrepancies between Dawkins’ simplification and the greater overlap of rationalistic inquiry that is evinced by both Scully and Mulder. The textual analysis of the series that takes place below will further explore and substantiate this aspect of The X-Files by challenging popular conceptions of the two agents as simplistic polar opposites. At present it is sufficient to note that the juxtaposition of the characters is not as basic or categorical, and thus not as suggestive of a certain bias as Dawkins claims.

It is worth looking more closely at what Dawkins implies about the series through the phrase recurrent persistence. These two words together denote something that presents the same perspective and has a constantly reoccurring presence. With regards to the latter quality Dawkins is apparently alluding to the fact that The X-Files is a television series with episodes appearing on a consistent basis during broadcast. Dawkins’ contention is that each of these episodes propounds the same anti-rationalistic perspective. This claim would be more convincing if The X-Files were just another program which kept largely to the series structure of repeatable situations and characters. However, it is a well-cited example of television fiction that incorporates serial elements, with narratives building over the course of multiple episodes and seasons, and served to instantiate a hybridized structure that has been called the series-serial and also complex television (Mittell, 2006). The serial and changing quality of The X-Files will become central to the following analysis of the series itself where it is clearly shown that neither Mulder nor Scully simply replicate the same exchanges and results in the perpetuating way Dawkins describes.

Arguments about the anti-rationalist stance of The X-Files are correlative to descriptions of the series as postmodern. According to Kellner (1999: 171), The X-Files presents ‘an epistemological blurring of boundaries that reflects the postmodern turn’ marking the series as ‘a postmodern undoing and questioning of the boundaries and distinctions characteristic of modern culture and rationality’. Kellner (1999: 167) is more equivocal than Dawkins when observing, ‘In many episodes it is not clear whether the rationalist or the supernaturalist explanation is more salient, mysteries are not unravelled, [and] the resolving of problems often creates new ones’, thus leaving a sense of uncertainty, which Kellner sees as a ‘postmodern ambiguity’ and ‘blurring of the boundaries’ with regards to not only genre but also occult/normal, natural/supernatural, and reason/belief. Similarly, Booker (2002: 123) claims ‘the general epistemological uncertainty surrounding the investigation … provides one of the most postmodern elements of the show’. However, these claims fail to demonstrate that the uncertainty is in fact epistemological. For this to be the case there would have to be a challenging of the ways to gain knowledge. An ontological uncertainty is definitely present but the processes deployed, even behind the questioning of accepted beliefs, occur within a rationalist epistemology where evidence, testing, and critical evaluation are still significant. In contrast to Booker and Kellner, Reeves, Rogers, and Epstein argue:

The X-Files is almost militantly anti-postmodern. Many other cult TV shows are contaminated by the tedium of postmodern irony in which cynicism passes for artistry, nihilism is ‘cool’, sincerity ‘sucks’, and truth is always already an illusion … The assertion that ‘The Truth is Out There’ runs counter to postmodernism’s doctrine of disbelief … the hermeneutics of faith practiced by Mulder and the hermeneutics of suspicion practiced by Scully provide a bifocal outlook that is characterised by a sincerity that stands in stark contrast to the mockeries of Twin Peaks, Mystery Science Theatre 3000, and Beavis & Butthead. (Reeves et al., 1996: 34–5)

Within their account is another bifurcation of particular viewpoints and approaches between the two (original) protagonists of the series. One additional statement from Kellner is significant for both the fact that it echoes Dawkins and provides a rejoinder to the singling out of the series’ search for the truth:

[The X-Files] makes its audiences suspicious of established government and ways of seeing … Distrust in the face of science, technology, government, and conventional attitudes forces an individual to penetrate beneath the lies and illusions … to seek the truth … while seeking and articulating the truth is a modern ideal, The X-Files suggests that modern methods (science, rationality, and documentary evidence) may not be adequate to the job. (Kellner, 1999: 170)

Although conceding that it is ‘undecidable’ if the series ‘promotes the supernatural or a crucial scientific naturalism’, Kellner (1999: 172) is clearly suggesting that rational thinking is undercut by the lack of any straightforward endorsement. Much like the claims of Dawkins, these take us back to the series itself in search of whether it supports the claims made about it.

Before going into the textual evidence from The X-Files, it is necessary to look at some of the counterpoints already offered in secondary accounts. For Millman (2002), The X-Files ‘left plenty of room for smart viewers to weigh the respective merits of Mulder’s open-mindedness and Scully’s skepticism’. Millman implies that the show was not pushing one view over another but rather allowing a space in which these could be considered. Suggestion of a space left for audience consideration touches on another possible reason why full explanations and accounts of strange phenomena were not offered within The X-Files. As Johnson (2005: 67) notes, deliberate indecisive resolution facilitates ‘audience engagement and debate’ with the series. Moreover, Geraghty (2009: 100) describes revelation as a ‘dilemma faced by the series’ creator and writers’, observing, ‘reveal too much, and fans would be disappointed with the outcome; reveal too little, and audiences may get bored and turn it off’. One can presume that the disappointment might stem from only a single possibility being validated, potentially one which segments of the audience might dislike. ⁴ As such, one need not assume from uncertainty that The X-Files was endorsing the supernatural or acting as an exemplar of postmodernity. Bearing in mind that the passage was written in 1996 and only addresses the first three seasons, Lavery, Hague and Cartwright nevertheless provide a useful overview of the early narrative contending:

The X-Files always refrains from passing any final judgement on the issue of alien abduction and seems to validate Mulder’s state of ‘ontological shock’ more frequently than Scully’s scientific–reductionist theories … Mulder’s intuitions and experiences are always open to question: did he actually witness his sister’s abduction during ‘Little Green Men’ or was she merely ‘taken’ by human agency because her father preferred Mulder to her, as we learn in ‘Paperclip’? Who abducted whom in ‘Jose Chung’s From Outer Space’? By always suggesting a possible human agency behind ostensible extraterrestrial encounters and (in ‘Jose Chung’) parodying the non-generic alien narrative, Carter leaves all his options open and avoids sending anyone into ontological shock. (Lavery et al., 1996: 12)

Just like the series, the authors take the phrase ‘ontological shock’ from John E. Mack’s, Abduction: Human Encounters with Aliens (1994). Mack (1994: 44) describes ontological shock as the experience of being confronted with a reality at odds with what one has been ‘raised in’. Although Mack is treating abductions as categorically real, and asserting that these prove the existence of extraterrestrial visitors, his basic concept still holds as a clash between existing beliefs and the outcome of new experiences or findings. Given the rapid changes that often act as foundations for SF narratives and occur within them, we might say that ontological shocks are a frequent occurrence in the genre. Without definitive closure, narratives can be as open for those who reject extreme possibilities as for those who, like Mulder, want to believe. Perhaps the best summary comes from The X-Files’ science advisor Anne Simon who writes:

What the critics of the show [who see it as anti-science] have lost sight of is that The X-Files is science fiction. If Scully’s mundane explanations were correct more often, it is doubtful that the series would have lasted into its second season, let alone achieve its current cult status. (Simon, 1999: 20)

With these words Simon highlights the role of the genre in extending the boundaries of reality, and allowing for the imaginative creation of new worlds and phenomena.

Character contrasts: Mulder

Portrayals of the two original protagonists as representing opposing viewpoints have already been encountered in the preceding analysis. However, their actual depictions within the series complicate such simplistic portraits. To demonstrate this it is first necessary to examine the character sometimes regarded as the apotheosis of the credulous and willing believer: Fox Mulder. Even in the series’ first episode – ‘Pilot’ (1.01) – the representation of Mulder is multi-dimensional. As Division Chief Scott Blevins (Charles Cioffi) is informing Sully of her assignment to the X-Files, he asks if she knows of Agent Mulder. She identifies him as ‘an Oxford-educated psychologist who wrote a monograph that helped catch Monte Propps in 1988, generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section’. To this she adds, ‘He had a nickname at the academy: Spooky Mulder.’ When Scully enters his basement office, Mulder self-deprecatingly refers to himself as ‘the FBI’s most unwanted’. This scene offers the first aesthetic representation of Mulder and it proves to show the same duality as Scully’s description: he looks like the typical clean-cut FBI agent but is surrounded by paraphernalia that hint at why he is called ‘Spooky’, including the famous ‘I want to believe’ poster.

One comment in particular resonates with discussions of SF as turning the fantastic into the possible via scientific or technological artifice. After she dismisses the potential presence of extraterrestrials on earth, Mulder asks Scully, ‘When convention and science offer us no answers, might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?’ Although the statement may initially seem like a rejection of science, it is better understood as responding to a specific image of science (as a body of established and accepted knowledge). It is unclear whether the statement is directed at allowing the impossible or meant to signify that the seemingly impossible has become the possible. Kowalski offers the following insightful account of Mulder’s attitude toward science:

Mulder isn’t a straightforward supernaturalist … [his] default position (especially once the character is established) seems to be that Scully’s naturalism often isn’t inclusive enough. If aliens exist and if they somehow account for life on this planet, then Scully’s stockpile of current scientific wisdom must be revised and expanded. Thus Mulder isn’t antiscience (even if he sometimes comes off that way) so much as he is sceptical of how science rules out phenomena by fiat merely because they don’t accord with what scientists currently know. (Kowalski, 2007: 4)

Because the agents encounter phenomena that do not correspond to current scientific findings or conclusions, Mulder can be described as arguing against views that what they experience can be accounted for within present knowledge. The lack of correspondence between present assumptions and what he and his partner discover is read as a need to revaluate existing knowledge and the limits of what is possible. In other words, the phenomena are not intrinsically outside of science or the natural world, only outside of what the natural world is thought to encompass. Furthermore, as Kaner accurately observes:

Conventional wisdom about The X-Files sees Scully’s approach as rational and empirical, fitting a trained scientist, and Mulder’s approach as intuitive and imaginative, fitting a brilliant eccentric … But the neat contrast between them is complicated almost immediately. Mulder’s skills of empirical observation cannot be denied. (Kaner, 2007: 233)

Mulder frequently employs rationalistic methods to test the potential truth of even some of the extreme possibilities he raises. One example is ‘Lazarus’ (1.15), where Mulder employs logic and rationality to test his belief that a killer’s consciousness has been somehow psychically transferred into another man’s body. We can see that the starting hypothesis is one that may appear irrational. Even so, Mulder does not simply accept his own speculation but cautiously pursues his suspicions, validating them through a series of calculated tests to establish the man’s true identity. Mulder’s search for his sister provides another case of this where initial suppositions are placed into question by his investigation. Short (2011: 71) claims that such a process ‘undermines our heroes’ quest’. This is only the case if Mulder’s ‘quest’ is to prove the prior assumption that aliens abducted his sister. Contrastingly, Mulder apparently wants to find out what happened to her. He believes it to be an alien abduction but several alternate ideas are tested through the series, including the possibility that a paedophilic serial killer was responsible (‘Paper Hearts’, 4.10). Interestingly, when that possibility is raised, Mulder seems to opt for the more prosaic and naturalistic explanation of events at first, believing that the killer was actually there rather than speculating on the more extreme possibility that his knowledge of the night comes from a psychic link to Mulder (as, apparently, turns out to be the case). These events do not undermine his quest, because the quest is a search for truth. They merely challenge a presupposed version of events. Burnett is right to note:

Mulder continually searches for proof of his theories in an effort to convince others that his view of the world is the correct one. Not only does Mulder want to believe, he wants to be believed – he needs to be believed. And therein lays an important point for consideration when examining The X-Files. (Burnett, 2007: 194)

While Mulder’s ‘view of the world’ is a reasonably open-ended one as shown above, viewers are aware that he is often correct: there exists both a governmental conspiracy and multiple strange creatures, some of them the basis for folkloric beings (if not actually those beings). ⁵ By showing diegetic characters that deny or disbelieve in Mulder’s claims and suppositions, the series focuses our attention on how we come to accept something. It does this especially by removing the truth of such things from the equation – people believe in things that are not true and discount others that are, meaning that the veracity of a phenomenon is not its most convincing attribute.

Although there are always rationalistic traits in Mulder’s approach and his past acts as a criminal profiler, this is an aspect that grows as the character engages with Scully. Mulder directly acknowledges that he is taking on the burden of proof due to Scully’s influence in ‘Little Green Men’ (2.01). Scully tries to reassure him by stating, ‘But Mulder … during your time with the X-Files you’ve seen so much.’ To which he replies, ‘That’s just the point, seeing is not enough. I should have something to hold onto – some solid evidence. I learned that from you.’ Another crucial aspect of their engagement is that Mulder calls on Scully to help him find evidence (especially the sort of empirical evidence that she is qualified to obtain via her medical background) and appeals to her reason. If it were true that Mulder was, or represents, anti-science and anti-rationality, then it would be more likely that he would reject Scully’s input and probably dismiss the need for scientific evidence. This is not to say that Mulder sticks assiduously to scientific or even rationalist methods of investigation and standards of proof. Adding a rejoinder to his earlier observations on Mulder’s default position, Kowalski writes:

[Mulder] occasionally eschews sound investigative modes of enquiry, typically by not carefully considering competing hypotheses to his ‘extreme possibilities’ mentality … It often causes strife between Mulder and Scully … Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that somehow they were successful in blending two respective approaches to seeking the truth. This is what we would expect from two intelligent truth seekers engaged in honest dialogue. The goal takes precedence over the idiosyncrasies of the individuals engaged in reaching it … [and they become] united without completely giving up their preferred mindsets. (Kowalski, 2007: 5)

Dialogic interaction is, again, the means through which the texts operate. Here we see communication being a crucial factor. What is significant for the present examination is that Mulder never fully occludes the role of scientific inquiry and that his exchanges with Scully produce not only a mix of perspectives for the audience to observe, but also a change in Mulder. This demonstrates how even their dialogic interactions proceed through a serialized progression rather than embodying any recurrent persistence. The fact that more intrinsically naturalistic SF television shows such as Stargate: SG-1 (1997–2007) or the various incarnations of Star Trek include phenomena such as possession, psychic transfers, and the like demonstrates that The X-Files is less adversely impacting science or SF as it is demonstrating some of the same traits of the genre wherein such new occurrences are situated within ‘what if?’ narratives.

Character contrasts: Scully

It is not only Mulder who is substantially more complicated than he is often depicted, but also Scully who deviates from the simplistic images put forward of her character. Astutely picking up on Blevins implications, Scully asks if she is there to debunk the X-Files, to which he replies, ‘We trust you’ll make the proper scientific analysis’. Later, this analysis turns out not as Blevins had expected. To the frustration of those who brought her into the project, Scully does not simply find fault or seek to disprove strange phenomena. Wildermuth (1999: 152) recognizes this in observing, ‘[Scully’s] dialogue with Mulder helps her create an open, productive loop that … avowed skepticism would have denied her’. In the communicative act there exists less a blending and more a combination that fuses Scully’s scientific practice and approach with the content of Mulder’s openness to the extraterrestrial, the occult, and the unknown. While this certainly does not result in Scully validating Mulder in the vast majority of cases, it also fails to do the opposite when she is unable to account for what has happened. That kind of inconclusive verdict and refusal to simply conjure up explanations as implausible as Mulder’s (despite being naturalistic) also helps to preserve the integrity of Scully’s scientific approach. Reflecting on a real-world UFO case where the alternate explanations of sceptics were proven to be as mistaken as those of believers, Pigliucci (2010: 75) keenly recognizes that scepticism ‘can easily turn into an arrogant position of a priori rejection of any new phenomenon or idea … as lacking in critical thinking as the one of the true believer’. If Scully witnessed or, as with her abduction, experienced mysterious phenomena but simply discarded any chance that these were other than what current scientific knowledge allowed then she would herself turn into a believer, albeit a different sort of believer to the one Mulder is perceived as being.

Just as Scully influences Mulder as the series progresses, so too does she undergo a change of perspective. In testament to the alterations that happen over the course of The X-Files’ serialized narrative, Peterson observes:

As the series moves along, Scully begins to see what Mulder is seeing and eventually reverses roles when she meets her own earlier skepticism in the person of her new partner, Agent Doggett (Robert Patrick). Agent Doggett plays skeptic to Scully’s more evolved point of view just as Scully once played skeptic to Mulder. (Peterson, 2007: 30)

Effectively, her own sceptical attitudes are redirected upon themselves. This takes place through the insertion of a new character who, lacking the experiences of Scully and Mulder, still has an a priori doubt towards central aspects of the X-Files. While extreme possibilities do not lose their doubt-inducing characteristics, Scully becomes more open. She acts as a more measured advocate of extreme possibilities than Mulder had been, and the position of ‘believer’ is eventually filled with the addition of Agent Monica Reyes (Annabeth Gish) in ‘This is Not Happening’ (8.14). While Agent Doggett does not appear until season eight’s ‘Within’ (8.01), Parks sees a shift in Scully’s attitude much earlier:

Although initially assigned to ‘debunk’ the X-Files, Scully becomes increasingly sympathetic to Mulder’s position. Over time, she displaces her allegiance to scientific rationality and joins Mulder in his struggle to define ‘the truth.’ This shift in Scully’s character becomes particularly acute in an episode called ‘Humbug.’ After positing the somewhat outrageous theory that a man’s detachable, malformed conjoined twin committed a series of murders, Scully receives strange looks from local officials and Mulder quips, ‘Now you know how I feel.’ (Parks, 1996: 124)

A couple of points in Park’s commentary stand out. Firstly, she implicitly maintains the same juxtaposition of the characters, seeing Scully’s growing acceptance of extreme possibilities as a subversion of scientific rationality. To take that position one has to overlook the (diegetic) evidence which leads Scully to be more accepting. Secondly, Scully’s explanation and the ‘quip’ occur in entirely different scenes from ‘Humbug’ (2.20). It is worth taking a closer look at the episode as it provides a concise demonstration of both the interaction of Mulder and Scully as well as the partial reversal of roles.

Over the course of ‘Humbug’ we observe a shift in scepticism towards Mulder (shared by Scully and the town Sheriff) to doubt over Scully’s conclusions. Much of the episode is directed at the questioning of initial assumptions. Even the short, pre-credit sequence supplies a subversion of expectations: a mostly concealed being stalks a pair of young boys playing in a swimming pool at night, circling the surrounding yard we see from the being’s perspective, then a hand on a tree, then feet walking across the lawn and the being entering the pool unseen by the children. When the children are ‘attacked’ we discover this is actually their father, Jerald Glazebrook (John Payne) – ichthyosis sufferer and sideshow performer, ‘The Alligator Man’. Despite the initial subversion, expectations are nevertheless given fulfilment in an unexpected way: Glazebrook sends his sons inside and proceeds to swim only to be attacked by the actual monster of the week. Following the opening credits we are shown Mulder and Scully discussing the case with Mulder providing situational information about the murder being part of a string of similar cases.

While talking to the agents at a local diner, Sherriff James Hamilton (Wayne Grace) announces that the town was founded by sideshow performers and stresses that the populace are ‘as normal as anybody’ on the inside. Appearance and reality are given a rather simplistic contrast here. Scully relates that normality back to the illusory ordinariness of serial killers securing the point that appearance can easily deceive. Of course, as the exchange between Mulder and the manager of the trailer park (Michael J. Anderson) subsequently indicates, appearance acts as both an accurate and inaccurate means of identification, for Mulder wrongly assumes the manager to be a former circus worker (due to his height), while the manager rightly assumes Mulder to be an FBI agent (due to his clothing and appearance).

Juxtapositions of exterior and actuality feed directly into the murder investigation. Dialogue between the agents as they head to their rooms in the local trailer park displays a mutual scepticism, with Mulder challenging any ‘exclusive’ list of suspects, which would exclude his suggestion that the Fiji Mermaid was involved, and Scully giving a reciprocal warning: ‘don’t let the atmosphere of this town distort your list out of proportion’. After the third killing, Mulder suspects that one of the less exotic members of the community is responsible, and tells Scully not to ‘complain about banality’. We already know that the conclusion involves Scully offering the explanation that a conjoined brother’s deformed twin is behind the killings, leading to her being mocked by Sheriff Hamilton who equates the claim with Mulder’s earlier suggestion that the Fiji Mermaid was a possible suspect, and Mulder sympathizing. What is the significance of the change of position: is Scully just being lowered to Mulder’s status? Initially, the difference is that her claims are based on the evidence of the other primary suspect’s innocence, the disappearance of the twin, and its subsequent pursuit by herself and Mulder. Evidence and experience are behind Scully’s assessment, while Mulder’s Mermaid theory was pure supposition. Therefore the conclusion is, contrary to what Parks asserted, not a betrayal of science or rationality, but the completion of an open inquiry. Another point of distinction is highlighted by Mulder’s reaction: ‘Scully, you’re the medical expert, if you think the twin can disengage, I believe you.’ Thus, Scully’s position, training, and prior framing are used to add credence to her claims and, significantly, it is these factors which prompt Mulder’s own assent. After an unsuccessful effort to find the twin, the final moments of ‘Humbug’ see the sheriff make the noted comment to Scully. Just as Mulder is on many occasions, she is left with the right conclusion but lacking the empirical evidence to prove it to others.

Whether or not Scully can be easily cast as a ‘believer’ in science, she does evince one particular kind of belief that needs to be discussed here: religious belief. Scully is established to be a Roman Catholic from very early on in the series and this religiosity plays a prominent role in some episodes. In ‘Beyond the Sea’ (1.13) it is primarily her faith that keeps Scully from accepting the possibility that convicted serial killer and alleged psychic Luther Lee Boggs (Brad Douriff) is able to communicate with her dead father. Even so, she entertains the potential that he is telling the truth even more so than Mulder, who regards Boggs as a con man. Attributing the growing openness of Scully to her increase in religiosity, Hansen (2013: 56) contends, ‘Scully’s gradual acceptance that “the truth is out there” – both religious/spiritual truth and the truths about the paranormal insisted upon by Mulder … is at least in part a result of her return to Catholicism.’ This sits uneasily with the conflict between Mulder’s claims (framed as what he wants to believe, rather than what he has faith in) and what Scully comes to accept – a particular metaphysical and fantastical view of the world shaped around Catholic and extra-biblical sources. ⁶ Furthermore, it overlooks the fact that she herself has been involved in the process of discovering the paranormal, and that this again is not a matter of faith – belief without evidence – but a change of perspective brought on by the evidence itself. Another example worth considering is ‘Revelations’ (3.11). Commenting on the seeming incongruity between how Mulder usually treats claims of the paranormal and what he does in ‘Revelations’, Kaner asserts:

For a man who regularly risks his own career by taking unsubstantiated claims on faith, [Mulder’s scepticism] is an odd reaction. He is being harsher and more rigorous on matters of faith than even Scully herself usually is … Her desire to believe closely parallels Mulder’s own, suggesting that the object of that faith – whether God or aliens – is relatively unimportant. (Kaner, 2007: 242)

Conversely, it might be the very object that is significant. Indeed, Mulder himself makes a distinction between religious views and the paranormal, remarking in ‘All Souls’ (5.17): ‘Religion has masqueraded as the paranormal since the dawn of time to justify some of the most horrible acts in history.’ Here Mulder is suggesting that religion uses or usurps the paranormal for other ends rather than encapsulating the kinds of extreme possibilities he champions. While this separation gives Mulder cause to distinguish religiously-based beliefs from his own corpus of ideas, it also works in the opposite direction. Religion acts as the culturally sanctioned paranormal, something to which even a trained scientist might turn a blind eye. This is not nearly so much the case with the various objects which Mulder espouses, whose fringe nature and lack of gravitas in mainstream Western tradition makes them subject to widespread doubt and ridicule.

Conclusion

After considering both The X-Files itself as well as various criticism of the series, can it be considered dangerous to science and SF? Certainly The X-Files challenges limited conceptions of SF and those who would look to ignore the history of the genre. However, the series clearly engages with concepts of possibility and thus with some of the fundamental aspects of SF. Furthermore, while simplistic characterizations of the series and its chief protagonists suggest an antipathy to science, this is not evident in the actual text. Collectively these facets of the series, along with the debates they initiated, demonstrate The X-Files’ potential as a way to understand and imagine dangerous SF, as well as illustrating many interesting intersections of science and fiction.