Famed Science Fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke once noted that "any technology which is sufficiently advanced is indistinguishable from magic." For example, the first Native Americans to come in contact with Europeans probably thought their weapons a kind of enchantment. Thus, in the world of science fiction, this notion implies that advanced civilizations might have abilities which would seem almost "magical" from our perspective — time travel, teleportation, mental communication, honest government, functioning socialism, etc.

I've been watching the reboot of Doctor Who lately, and have encountered (and finally clearly understood) a new way this rule can be applied. Growing up, the few episodes of Doctor Who I saw (Tom Baker, mostly) seemed to be straight Sci-Fi: Doctor Who traveled in time, worked with a robot dog (and some carefully chosen eye candy), and generally battled beings which were part organic, part machine (Cybermen, Daleks, etc). While an element of that remains, a good fraction of newer episodes run Arthur Clarke's rule backwards: They present what appears to be nothing more than traditional occultic or supernatural tales, told in the usual way, and yet pretend — with little more than superficial hand-waving — that they're really telling a "science" or "science fiction" story.

For example, in "The Unquiet Dead", Doctor and companion find themselves in Charles Dickens' neighborhood, where zombies are being raised from the dead by spirits which can be contacted through a seance using the help of a maid with clairvoyant powers. The spirits ask to possess human bodies and do so — to malevolent effect.

This could be any traditional religious story about the dangers of contacting demons and allowing them power over humanity. But here it's science because the "demons" or "spirits" are really a race called the "Gelth", who are using a "rift in spacetime" to contact them, from another part of the galaxy. Why should a seance be the means of such contact? Do spacetime rifts respond especially the conditions of a seance — a darkened room, people joining hands? Can maids open such rifts by their permission? (Erm, um, it's because of some kind of "science" you wouldn't understand! Really!)

Later, in "Tooth and Claw" Queen Victoria, Doctor, and companion are menaced by a werewolf. The werewolf is really a human "possessed" by an alien intelligence, his change triggered by moonlight. The Doctor "figures out" (he read the script, apparently) that if a werewolf is created by moonlight, he can be killed by lots of moonlight.

Once again: What is so special about sunlight reflected off moon rocks that it could kill an "alien-possessed" human, when regular sunlight couldn't? How does an alien "possess" a human mind and body, anyway? And why, as mentioned in the episode, should the creature only be killed by silver bullets, not bullets made of other similarly weighty metals? Yet again, it's surely some kind of "science" that is much too complicated for us primitive 20th century humans to understand.

The list of such episodes runs on and on: In "Fear Her", an alien "possesses" a little girl and makes things happen by forcing her to draw pictures. (Why draw pictures? Why not just do each act directly?) In "The Satan Pit", a small group confronts what appears to be Satan. (The Doctor says his claim of existing before the universe is absurd — but then himself offers such a claim in a future episode.) In "The Shakespeare Code", three "witches" make things happen by incanting spells. (Why should mere sounds in the air have such effects? The Doctor explains by saying something poetic, but which makes no sense.) These witches can weaken you by naming your "real name" — an idea borrowed directly from popular demonology.

Such motifs and devices even show up in the more apparently "Sci-Fi" episodes: In "The Christmas Invasion", just as a voodoo practitioner can control others with a sample of hair, aliens somehow control the minds of humans by having a sample of a drop of blood. (Those with the same blood type are affected. As if you had a sample of a blond hair, and were thus only able to control the minds of blond-haired people.) In "The Idiot's Lantern", an energy-based alien exploits the coronation of Queen Elisabeth II to steal people's souls — and faces! (reminiscent of some primitive people's beliefs about mirrors and photos — and why not take their arms, or even buttocks?) — stealing them via (and storing them in) television sets. (Why not radios, which were far more popular? Or even auto starters, electric blenders, and washing machines?)

None of this makes much sense. Nor does it seem that the writers are even trying most the time, to offer up much of a pretense. Just tell a story about a ghost, demon, vampire, werewolf, voodoo charm, or witch, and add a quick quip, somewhere in the episode, stating "This is science!" and thus it shall be!

Certainly, others have toyed with such ambiguity before: Clive Barker blurs the line in his Hellraiser series (is it hell, or another dimension? — though the series is considered more horror than SF); CS Lewis told a religious story in SF garb in the Perelandra series (though Lewis's fictional words are typically considered fantasy); the "witches" in Madeline L'Engle's books were actually distant stars, presenting themselves in human form. (Though they never did anything very "witchy" — mostly, they served as interplanetary tourguides and taxi drivers.)

But what's surprising here is Doctor Who's turn: from straight SF to half-'n'-half occult stories, dressed up in materialistic, science fiction-y garb. These spiritualistic or occultic motifs aren't secondary to the story (as, say, the (non-)"witches" in L'Engle's works), more often they're the main focus.

I've always viewed materialism (atheism, ardent agnosticism) as a transitional form; scraping people off traditional religions, promising them "science" and "progress" (and that they're somehow "brighter" than the rest of that ilk) but often ultimately deposits many adherents in far stranger territory — New Age, occultic beliefs, contact with aliens, getting guidance from crystals, Gaia-worship, Marxism, etc. Consider Houdini, who spent the first part of his life debunking seances, and the last part of his life paying for them. Or Arthur Conan Doyle, who rose to fame on the cooly logical persona of Sherlock Holmes, but ultimately founded the London Psychic Society. Or (today) Sam Harris, the New Atheist who excoriates Christians but advocates Zazen-style meditation.

As Chesterton remarked (paraphrased:) when people stop believing in God, they don't end up believing in nothing — they end up believing in anything. Materialism doesn't ultimately satisfy the human hunger for transcendent meaning and spirituality. So we dress up Buddhism, Hinduism, or eighteenth century penny-dreadful spiritualism as "science" or "science fiction" to try to fill some of the gaps, put some of the richness back into our lives, and send a few chills up our bored materialistic spines.

But, beyond entertainment, those who adopt such a stance (and I've encountered it more often than I might have imagined otherwise) it's both bad science and bad religion — moreso since it doesn't even admit as much. Their belief in and longing for magic — being as advanced as they are — is just a form of science which has yet to be discovered.