The Impossible Planet and The Satan Pit

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The two-part story comprising of 'The Impossible Planet' and 'The Satan Pit' was first broadcast on June 3 and 10, 2006.

'It's the biggest and most science fiction we've ever got, with a space-ship . . . flying through a black hole . . . but at the same time, it's the most mythological we've ever been, with a devilish beast tucked away in the heart of the planet.' (Russell T. Davies[1])

The TARDIS materializes inside a storage cupboard, inside a Sanctuary Base, clinging to an impossible planet, orbiting a black hole. The base is crewed by six humans and their genetically engineered Ood slaves who are digging their way towards a mysterious power source hidden in the heart of the planet. Chills aplenty ensue as the TARDIS is lost, the Ood begin saying that 'He is awake', one of the humans is possessed and the Doctor comes face to face with a being claiming to be Satan . . .

One of the major themes of The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit two-part story is confronting the apparently impossible. According to Russell T. Davies: 'The whole story's meant to be about heroic humanity, climbing Everest and going to impossible places.'[2] Variations on the phrase 'that's impossible' are used numerous times in this story. Part I is, of course, called 'The Impossible Planet' – impossible because it exists in close proximity to a black hole without being sucked in along with the debris of whole civilizations violently brushing past it. The strange writing discovered scrawled on the wall by Rose, which refuses to submit to the TARDIS's translation powers, is described by the Doctor as therefore being 'impossibly old'. The Doctor also opines that it is 'impossible' for the Beast in the Pit to have existed 'before time'.

However, as the story progresses, the point is made that what we class as 'impossible' is relative to our background beliefs, and our background beliefs may be open to revision in the face of new evidence. Hence, whilst hanging from a cable in the Pit, the Doctor muses that the very reason he travels in time and space is to prove himself wrong (a philosophical attitude reminiscent of Karl Popper's famous 'falsification' criteria for scientific theory-making).

If the Doctor already knew everything, if he'd been everywhere and done everything, what would be the point of travelling about the place in search of new experiences? After all, it is significant that, when faced with an apparently 'impossible' situation (the 'impossible' planet) or being (The Beast), the Doctor does not automatically discount his experience as some sort of a delusion. Rather, he begins with the assumption that his experience is genuine and quite rightly wonders whether there isn't a more mundane explanation than first impressions suggest. But he nevertheless remains open to the possibility that the background beliefs motivating him to search for such mundane explanations may themselves be wrong:

I believe I haven't seen everything. I dunno. It's funny isn't it, the things you make up, the rules. If that thing said it came from beyond the universe I'd believe it, but before the universe? Impossible. Doesn't fit my rule. Still, that's why I keep travelling, to be proved wrong. (The Satan Pit)

Doctor Who traditionally approaches the apparently supernatural or paranormal with the assumption that there must be a mundane or natural explanation. The constant story device of the apparently non-natural explained away as something natural (even when the 'natural' explanation is framed in hand-waving sci-fi 'gobbledygook') turns science fiction into scientism fiction. As Jackie Tyler complains to the Doctor in Army of Ghosts: 'You're always doing this; reducing it to science. Why can't it be real?'

The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit is a Doctor Who first in as much as the question of whether The Beast does or does not have a 'natural' explanation is addressed but left hanging (like the Doctor in the Pit).

In the end, the Doctor expresses agnosticism about the true nature of The Beast, and this represents a softening of Doctor Who's previous tendency to automatically assume a naturalistic outlook. The whole experience calls to mind sceptical Scottish philosopher David Hume's famous argument against the rationality of belief in miracles.

In his Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, David Hume introduced an influential argument against the credibility of belief in miracles: 'I flatter myself that I have discovered an argument . . . which, if just, will, with the wise and learned, be an everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion, and consequently will be useful as long as the world endures.'[3] In his own words:

1. 'A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature'

2. 'Firm and unalterable experience has established these laws'

3. 'A wise man proportions his belief to the evidence'

4. Therefore, 'the proof against miracles . . . is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined.'[4]

According to the 'hard' interpretation of this argument (adopted by nineteenth century liberal theologian David Strauss), Hume is arguing:

1. Miracles, by definition, are a violation of natural law

2. Natural laws are unalterably uniform

3. Therefore, miracles cannot occur

However, in this argument, 'Hume's definition of a miracle and his understanding of the laws of nature simply beg the question.'[5] Hume simply defines miracles as unobserved and impossible events. As C.S. Lewis commented:

we must agree with Hume that if there is absolutely 'uniform experience' against miracles, if in other words they have never happened, why then they never have. Unfortunately we know the experience against them to be uniform only if we know that all reports of them are false. And we can know all the reports to be false only if we know already that miracles have never occurred. In fact, we are arguing in a circle.[6]

Charles Taliaferro and Anders Hendrickson highlight, 'a significant parallel between Hume's stand on white supremacy and on miracles.'[7] On miracles: 'Hume's concepts of miracle, laws of nature, and violations of such laws, make naturalism a foregone conclusion.'[8] Whereas, 'if one has reason either to be neutral in background assumptions or, if one has some reason for thinking theism is true . . . circumstances change.'[9] That is, they change such that one is open to following the evidence wherever it leads. On white supremacy, Hume asserted that there has been:

a uniform and constant association of whites and superior intelligence, nonwhites and inferior intelligence. He acknowledges reports of exceptions . . . but dismisses this talk in light of his view of the regular, uniform, exception-less character of nature . . . Hume ends up assuming that to expect black intelligence is as unreasonable as to expect a miracle.[10]

Hume was of course well aware of widespread reports of intelligent non-whites (such as Francis Williams from Jamaica, who held a degree from Cambridge University, headed a school and was know for his Latin poetry), just as he was well aware of widespread reports of miracles throughout history. However, in both cases: 'What Hume's racism and anti-supernaturalism bring to light is that if one is already entrenched in one's (negative) convictions about supposed intelligent nonwhites and a divine intelligence, then one will systematically take a highly skeptical stand on reports to the contrary.'[11] In both cases, Hume's skepticism begs the question: 'The fact that racism is morally outrageous certainly secures the serious consequences of Hume's line of reasoning . . .'[12] Indeed, Hume's racist assumptions play a role in his argument against miracles: 'It forms a strong presumption against all supernatural and miraculous relations, that they are observed chiefly to abound among ignorant and barbarous nations [i.e. non-white nations] . . .'[13]

Modern day naturalist Richard Lewontin openly admits:

It is not that the methods . . . of science somehow compel us to accept a material explanation of the . . . world, but, on the contrary, that we are forced by our . . . adherence to material causes to create . . . a set of concepts that produce material explanations, no matter how counterintuitive, no matter how mystifying . . .[14]

How does Lewontin's a priori endorsement of 'counterintuitive' and 'mystifying' material explanations (if they are the only way to avoid supernatural explanations) differ from Hume's a priori endorsement of racist explanations? 'In Jamaica indeed they talk of one Negro as a man of parts and learning,' wrote Hume of Francis Williams; 'but 'tis likely he is admired for very slender accomplishments like a parrot, who speaks a few words plainly.'[15] Both cases consist in the attitude: I've made up my mind, don't confuse me with the facts. But as philosopher of science Del Ratzsch observes:

The scientific attitude has usually been characterized as a commitment to following the evidence wherever it leads. That does not look like promising ammunition for someone pushing an official policy of refusing to allow science to follow evidence . . . no matter what the evidence turns out to be . . . it commits science to either having to deliberately ignore major (possibly even observable) features of the material realm or having to refrain from even considering the obvious and only workable explanation, should it turn out that those features clearly resulted from [supernatural] activity . . . any imposed policy of naturalism in science has the potential not only of eroding any self-correcting capability of science but of preventing science from reaching certain truths. Any imposed policy of methodological naturalism will have precisely the same potential consequences.[16]

Of course, if naturalism is true, then a policy of methodological naturalism (doing science as if naturalism were true) cannot possibly subvert the truth seeking intent of science. Likewise, if white supremacy were true, Hume's racism would not have run the risk of blinding him to the achievements of non-whites. But perhaps philosophical naturalism – like white supremacy – is not true; and perhaps science should operate without making any assumptions that risk forcing it to ignore reality. Likewise, the Doctor decides in The Satan Pit that he should face the universe without any assumptions that would force him to ignore reality.

Hume's argument has also been interpreted as arguing not that miracles are impossible, but for the incredibility of accepting miracles. This 'soft' version of Hume's argument runs as follows:

1. A miracle is by definition a rare occurrence

2. A natural law is by definition a description of a regular occurrence

3. The evidence for the regular is always greater than the evidence for the rare

4. A wise man always bases his belief on the greater evidence

5. Therefore, a wise man should never believe a miracle has happened

Norman L. Geisler comments that on this 'soft' interpretation of the argument: 'the rationality of belief in miracles is eliminated, since by the very nature of the case no thoughtful person should ever hold that a miracle has indeed occurred.'[17] However, as John Earman argues: 'An epistemology [theory of knowledge] that does not allow for the possibility that evidence, whether from eyewitness testimony or from other source, can establish the credibility of a UFO landing, a walking on water, or a resurrection is inadequate.'[18] Likewise, we might say that a theory of knowledge that does not allow for the possibility that evidence – e.g. the fact the TARDIS cannot translate the writing discovered by Toby the archaeologist, the fact that The Beast can possess people, or the fact that he has massive telekinetic and mind-reading powers – might establish the credibility of The Beast's claim to have existed 'before time', is inadequate.

Hume's argument against miracles proves too much. One might expect an empiricist (someone who thinks all knowledge comes through experience) to argue that it is irrational to believe in a miracle (or a Beast) without sufficient evidence; but Hume argues that the evidence for a miracle can never be sufficient for rational belief even if a miracle has happened. Even if Jesus did rise from the dead (for example), and you were one of the people who actually met and talked with him afterwards, Hume says that you ought not to believe it! Likewise, Hume's assumptions would mean that the Doctor should refuse to believe that The Beast might be what he appears, whatever the evidence might be.

Hume says we should always believe what is most probable. Geisler observes that: 'On these grounds . . . we should never believe we have been dealt a perfect bridge hand (though this has happened) since the odds against it are 1,635,013,559,600 to 1!'[19] Sometimes the probability of an event based on past observation is low, but the evidence for the event is very good based on current observation and/or reliable testimony: 'if a number of independent probabilities converge upon an alleged miraculous event, and alternative naturalistic explanations are inadequate to explain the data . . . it becomes entirely reasonable to believe that this miraculous event has occurred.'[20] Geisler concludes: 'Hume's argument confuses quantity of evidence with the quality of evidence . . . The wise do not legislate in advance that miracles [or other supernatural claims] cannot be believed . . . rather, they look at the evidence to see if God has indeed acted in history.'[21] The same principle surely applies to the devil.

For the first time in Doctor Who, the Doctor agrees with contemporary philosophers like Geisler on this point. While the Doctor does not conclude that The Beast is anything other than a particularly old denizen of this universe with amazing but scientifically explicable powers, neither does he confidently assert that The Beast isn't what he claims. The Doctor doesn't deduce that The Beast must be a fake, regardless of evidence, on the assumption that his own worldview precludes The Beast being genuine. Rather, the Doctor sceptically concludes that there simply isn't enough evidence to support The Beast's claims – a position of agnosticism that leaves open the possibility that further evidence could warrant his taking The Beast at face value.

Personally, I think the Doctor is right. The fact that The Beast is eventually revealed as having his own body automatically counts against the idea that this is the real 'Prince of Darkness', since demons are meant to be non-physical beings. Besides which, in the biblical book of Revelation, the Beast is not Satan himself, but merely his chief emissary, the Antichrist. It is interesting to note that the more physical The Beast becomes the less scary it is – the most unnerving scene for my money is when The Beast first talks to Toby as a disembodied voice telling him not to turn around on pain of death. As a non-corporeal intelligence tempting Scooti out onto the impossible planet's surface, or the Doctor to jump into the Pit, The Beast is far more scary than he is as a red-horned muscle bound monster. The body in the pit could be some alien creature that Satan had previously possessed, if it weren't for the fact that when 'Satan' is possessing Toby the body in the Pit is left mindless rather than reverting to some non-Satanic character (as Toby does when not possessed).

Despite the fact that the creature in the pit claims to have originated 'before time', and despite the fact that it is capable of possessing humans and various impressive feats of telekinetic power (e.g. shattering a window by will-power, making the cable on the lift break), such an embodied being is clearly not the biblical Satan. Within the Doctor Who universe, The Beast is most likely the ultimate this-worldly 'myth behind the myth'. Within the real universe, whether or not we believe in a real 'Prince of Darkness' – or a real 'Prince of Peace' come to that - should depend upon the evidence rather than our assumptions.

Recommended Resources

BBC resources:

'The Impossible Planet' and 'The Satan Pit'

Doctor Who Confidential

Doctor Who – 'The Daemons' (BBC, 1971)

Other Web Resources:

Simon Bisley's Website (The look of the Beast was inspired by Bisley's artwork)

Sue Bohlin, 'Angels: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly'

Greg Clark, 'Angels in the Classroom'

William Lane Craig, 'Contemporary Scholarship and the Resurrection of Jesus'

William Lane Craig, 'The Problem of Miracles: A Historical and Philosophical Perspective'

Outpost Gallifrey, 'The Impossible Planet'

Outpost Gallifrey, 'The Satin Pit'

Norman L. Geisler, 'Miracles and Modern Scientific Thought'

Alvin Plantinga, 'Methodological Naturalism?'

Peter S. Williams and Steven Carr, Debate: 'Do angels such as Gabriel, Michael and Satan exist?'

Peter S. Williams, 'Angelology and Biblical Scepticism'

Books:

Steve Couch, Tony Watkins & Peter S. Williams, Back in Time: A Thinking Fan's Guide to Doctor Who (Damaris, 2005)

R. Douglas Geivett and Gary R. Habermas (eds.), In Defence of Miracles (Apollos, 1997)

Emma Heathcote-James, Seeing Angels: True Contemporary Accounts of Hundreds of Angelic Experiences (John Blake Publishing, 2003)

Peter Kreeft, Angels (and Demons) (Ignatius, 1995)

Peter S. Williams, The Case for Angels (Paternoster, 2003)

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