Redefining the Future, part 2

 

Image description: Hugh, the Borg drone who begins regaining humanity in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "I Borg." Although Hugh only features briefly in this post, the image of him examining Picard's lionfish with new eyes really puts me in mind of what I want to discuss in this sequel to a post I did last year. As I discussed then, we tend to have very limited views of the future and so sometimes our futuristic portrayals are severely limited. Therefore, I want to examine some more ways we can try to redefine our concepts of the future and tell better stories in the process.

Almost exactly one year ago, I did a post called “Redefining the Future,” centered on the idea of how futuristic media (chiefly Star Trek) treats concepts such as romance, sex, marriage, having children, etc. For as much as sci-fi and fantasy media like to portray the future as an enlightened place that has transcended certain cultural limitations, as an aspec viewer, I’m often dismayed by how much they still fall into the same traps of the present when it comes to these issues, and my post centered on the ways this plays out. However, I knew I’d only just scratched the surface – and indeed, had quite a bit of material I hadn’t even been able to fit in that first post. So of course, a second post exploring how we view and portray the future would be required. Since my first post, I’ve gathered even more examples of why I feel this is important, and the many ways I think our portrayals of the future are severely limited by our current attitudes.

As with the first post, this is going to be extremely Star Trek focused, but I think these examples apply to any futuristic stories, especially ones that portray a rosy vision of the future. These optimistic futures are more than just escapism; they actually inspire people to make the world a better place and because of that, I think it’s essential that we look at them with a serious eye. Whenever we try to create fantastic worlds, we’re inevitably somewhat limited by our present and our own experiences. But it’s important to point out their failings when they happen so we don’t continually import the tropes of the present day into these outlooks for tomorrow. So, with that said, here is yet another look at my own opinion of how we might be able to redefine our idea of the future.

Spoiler warning! 

Star Trek: The Original Series ("The Apple")

Star Trek: The Next Generation ("Brothers", "I Borg", and others)

Star Trek: First Contact

Star Trek: Insurrection

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (various)

Star Trek: Voyager ("The Q and the Grey", "The Raven", "Message in a Bottle", and others)

Content warning: Discussions of Aphobia/Asexual Discrimination

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How the Future Views Non-Humans

The concept of how futuristic media often conflates alien races and the concepts of being non-sexual and/or non-romantic is something I’ve been interested in for a while. As I’ve stated many times before, this can be a bit of a slippery slope; if media only portrays these attitudes as something alien or otherworldly, it can send the message that aspec identities are not human. However, if portrayed well, these could be first steps towards helping people understand these concepts in our time and place, and could be used as valuable representation. But, as I’ve also mentioned many times, it’s extremely rare that non-sexual or non-romantic alien races are ever portrayed well, or at all.

Looking at Star Trek specifically, I’ve long since tried to find decent examples of these things and almost always come up empty. For instance, I’ve previously discussed the Vaalians – a race of ostensibly aromantic asexual aliens who are only this way because their god Vaal, an evil supercomputer, is keeping them in slavery; of course, when Vaal is destroyed, they’re then able to have “normal relationships” – which are explicitly stated to be heteronormative romantic and sexual ones. The Vaalians appear in “The Apple,” an episode of The Original Series, so it might be tempting to assume that this type of bad portrayal is exclusively the product of an older time. Unfortunately, that is not the case. Throughout Star Trek, there are many other examples of asexual/aromantic alien species and almost all of them are portrayed in less than stellar ways (no pun intended).

Deep Space Nine gives us several examples of asexual alien species, but a large majority of them – such as the Vorta or the Jem’Hadar – are antagonists. In the case of the former, the Vorta are a species that shows no interest in sex, but this is largely because they’re a race of genetically engineered clones whose lack of sexual interest is used to make them loyal. In the case of the latter, they’re likewise genetically engineered, designed to be a one-gender species of ruthless killers and controlled using a specific drug. DS9 also gives us several examples of alien species being called “sexually repressed” and, although this is often said by other alien species, it’s still not great to see entire races of people be called sexually repressed even so.

Because none of these alien races are real, it might seem like a stretch to treat these incidents as important. However, the fact that these races aren’t real is exactly what presents the problem. Because these races, their attributes, and how other races react to them are coming out of the mind of a human writer in our own time period and society, I feel these portrayals leave us to wonder how these writers would choose to portray real non-sexual or non-romantic people, or how they would choose to treat these types of people in the real world. Although it’s likely unintentional, these things seem to reinforce the attitude that it’s okay to treat certain people a certain type of way, and that is the real issue here.

Image description: Several Jem'Hadar and the Vorta known as Weyoun in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

In other instances, these portrayals feel like modern-day limitations being imposed on the future, a product of writers and audiences alike struggling to conceptualize alien races that don’t have sex as we know it. Even if these races don’t actually experience intimacy through sex, their mating rituals are often played as if they are sexual, as is the case for the Q mating ritual seen in Voyager, where it’s meant to be humorous. The idea that every species has to have sex or a sexual stand-in doesn’t feel very futuristic, and at other times even feels confusing because of the way modern people force their understanding of intimacy onto these alien species.

A few months ago, when I discussed Odo from Deep Space Nine, I briefly touched on the Changeling concept of “linking,” a concept which can’t seem to decide what it wants to be. At times, it seems like a communal ritual. Other times, an act of communication. And, when it’s convenient for the story, it’s very obviously treated as a sexual stand-in. I’m planning to discuss the Changelings in more detail in a future post, so I won’t belabor the point here, but the short version is that linking does not have to be used as a sexual stand-in at all, and indeed it only seems to be sexualized to make it – and, by extension, Odo – seem more “expected” or “normal” to the audience.

This to me is one of the worst parts of these portrayals, because they do not stop at non-human races as a whole; rather, they extend to many non-human individuals as well. Throughout Star Trek, non-human characters are frequently othered by the humans around them, treated as different and less than. For certain characters, this is related to romance and sex/sexuality in very un-futuristic ways that devalue their experiences and personalities. Just like many of the races I’ve discussed here seemingly must be portrayed as sexual in order to be accepted, many of these characters are too, and I find that deeply incongruous with the optimistic future Star Trek teaches us to expect.

How the Future Views Sex, Continued

For an example of this, let’s look at Data the android from The Next Generation, a character who strives to be seen as human, but often struggles in that goal. Although he finds acceptance and friendship from the crew of the Enterprise, it is nevertheless a very common plot point that Data is maligned and treated as “less than,” because that’s exactly what people consider him. Even when he makes his own decisions or follows his own path, it is not respected as something he’s choosing to do as an individual. For example, in the episode “Brothers,” Data meets Dr. Soong – his creator and thus father – who seems disappointed that Data became a Starfleet officer because it was Starfleet officers who first found him; thus, he says that Data is just “emulating his emancipators.” Although he joined Starfleet because it was something he wanted and something that is valuable to him, there are many times where this decision is not honored, ostensibly because people believe that he, as an android, cannot possibly want or assign value to things in this manner.

This attitude extends to plenty of other non-human characters throughout Star Trek. In Voyager, for instance, we see this extend both to the ships’ holographic doctor and to ex-Borg drone Seven of Nine, both of whom are routinely disrespected, sometimes leading to their human crewmates making decisions for them. These attitudes become especially problematic because – as most of you probably know – these characters all have some attributes to them that can be recognizable and identifiable from an aspec perspective. I’ve discussed all of these characters at length before, so again, I won’t belabor the points here. But there are many instances in which these characters seem to be gatekept from true humanity until they attain more “normal” relationships, even when it doesn’t entirely make sense. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with any of these characters having romantic and/or sexual relationships, the idea that these things are required parts of humanity (or that humanity itself is even a required metric of their life or development) is not a very enlightened attitude for a franchise that is supposedly built on that foundation.

Furthermore, none of these characters really need to be sexual, and yet the shows they’re featured in often go out of their way to draw attention to it when they are. For instance, Data is shown to have the ability to have sex in literally the second episode of TNG and the fact that he does so is not just shown off in this episode, but referenced in others, even as far ahead as the film First Contact. But ostensibly, there’s no reason why Dr. Soong should have included a “sexuality program” into Data’s programming in the first place, especially if he can’t even trust him to make his own decision about what his job should be and questions whether Data is just copying what he sees rather than actually making valid choices.

Image description: Data with Dr. Soong in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Brothers"

In the case of Seven of Nine in Voyager, she neither needs nor seems to want many of the relationships the show throws at her, and instead they are used to normalize her to the crew and to the audience. This is especially rich when you consider the fact that the crew – and by that, I really mean the writers – will often go from treating Seven as Borg when it suits them to suddenly treating her as entirely human as they require. If they want her to act in a way that is more palatable or recognizable to them, or, conversely, if they want her to stop doing something they consider unpalatable or less recognizable to them, they will often shame or shun her until she behaves in a more expected way. Naturally, this includes sexuality and romance, as we see in episodes like “Unimatrix Zero” and “Human Error,” where romance is considered a “deeper” relationship for which she should be striving.

As an aspec fan who loves the optimistic future portrayed in Star Trek, I’d like to think the 24th century respects that people may not have sex or romance, and that these things aren’t essential elements of life, individual happiness, or maturity. And yet, the way these characters are treated and often infantilized is something I’d expect from day-to-day life in this century, not from the far-off future. These portrayals seem to reinforce the idea that being non-sexual and/or non-romantic means you are inherently missing something in life, and that’s a problem. In many of the instances I’ve discussed so far, it also leads to the implication that these same types of people cannot make decisions for themselves and can be treated like children – again, something that is baffling when you consider what the future would mean for the course of “normal” life or “normal” life metrics such as adolescence and adulthood.

How the Future Views Children and Adults

If you are living in a future where the human lifespan has been extended, health technology makes most diseases obsolete, and you regularly interact with alien species with various lifespans as well, you would think the concept of what it means to be young may be slightly different than what we have now. However, a lot of sci-fi media tends to still treat “being young” as having certain innate qualifications to it. In many cases, becoming an adult is framed as a maturation process that often includes things like sexual maturation, finding someone to “settle down with,” or becoming a parent. Again, while there’s nothing inherently wrong with any of these things, there is definitely something wrong with the attitude that these things are essential parts of adulthood, and that not having these things means someone may be treated as incomplete or immature.

The idea of a “young,” “innocent,” or “inexperienced” person maturing through sex and sexuality is a basic trope in a lot of things, and something I’ve discussed extensively on this blog in the past. But as I said in the previous paragraph, it’s especially strange to me when non-human characters remark on it, or when this attitude is prevalent despite differences in alien cultures. Star Trek gives us various examples of this, such as when The Doctor refers to the newer Emergency Medical Hologram model he encounters in Voyager episode “Message In a Bottle” using some of these terms. There is absolutely no reason why an ageless hologram who was never a child to start would refer to themselves as being more mature over another hologram; but the show introduces these plot elements as dividing lines between The Doctor (who by this point in the story has had romantic and sexual relationships) and the newer EMH (who has not “exceeded this limitation.”)

Of course, many people do experience sexual maturity as the thing that clearly divides their adolescence from their adulthood. But the idea of sexuality being the chief thing that makes us adults is inherently problematic for people who don’t have sex; similarly, youthfulness or adolescence being defined by the prevalence of sex, sexuality, or sexual attraction can be likewise problematic. For instance, in my first “Redefining the Future” post, I briefly mentioned a specific plot point in the film Star Trek: Insurrection that I’d like to elaborate on in this post. In this film, the crew of the Enterprise must help the people of an Eden-like planet with rejuvenating properties and, while on the planet, the crew themselves experience these rejuvenating effects.

In many cases, this is played for sheer silliness – such as when Klingon crewmember Worf experiences symptoms of Klingon puberty, such as getting a very obvious pimple. But even when it’s supposed to be humorous, this concept goes a bit sideways when the rejuvenation effects some of the crew’s libido. Although this is relatively mild for the most part, the comments that are made in this regard once again feel incongruous with the future we’re supposed to be in, to the point where the script actually makes fun of people supposedly not caring about these things in the 24th century. Scenes like these, although minor, are actually somewhat irksome for me, because they almost seem to indicate the creators of these supposedly utopic futures know what they could (or even should) be doing, but would rather do something more stereotypically “recognizable” in modern terms instead.

Beyond just these notions of youthfulness, however, Star Trek also seems to have an odd relationship with treating characters like adults versus treating them like children. Again, these are stories that take place in a world where alien races of all kinds exist who mature at different paces and through different metrics. Thus, it seems somewhat problematic to put modern human notions of maturity and development onto non-human characters – an issue I’ve noticed on many occasions in sci-fi and fantasy media, both in Star Trek media and beyond. Again, Seven of Nine is a good example of this, and it exists in some of her earliest episodes.

For instance, “The Raven” takes place about two months after Seven’s separation from the Collective, and in it we see the crew of Voyager are still teaching her how to come to terms with her new humanity. This includes teaching her things I can actually get behind – such as imagination, creative expression, and the value of relaxation rather than the endless work of a drone. Unfortunately, they also help her remember more basic skills like how to eat, which feels odd from an aspec perspective because it feels a bit like infantilization, and is just odd in general. While it does make sense that Seven’s human organs returning would require her to be cautious when eating, she wasn’t assimilated as a baby, but as a child. Would she really have forgotten how to eat, the way the show wants us to believe?

The notion of liberated Borg being childlike is something we see with other characters. Later in Voyager, the crew takes on some actual Borg children, one of whom stays on the ship permanently – Icheb, who forms a wonderful mentor-mentee relationship with Seven. While Icheb is technically still a child, he’s older than the other Borg children and is arguably wise beyond his years. Even so, there are many instances in which his lack of social awareness leads to him being portrayed as childlike. This also happens in TNG with the character of Hugh, whom the Enterprise finds as the sole survivor of a crashed Borg ship. Being cut off from the Collective in this manner means he begins feeling and thinking as an individual again, and begins exploring the world around him in a very childlike manner. Hugh is also a younger Borg, and so it’s possible that he too was assimilated as a child, which explains some of this behavior.

Image description: Hugh from the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "I Borg"

Hugh, Seven, and Icheb would all naturally have some fundamental gaps in how they relate to the world around them, but I do have to wonder if they would be as childlike or ignorant as these episodes seem to want to portray. Again, by portraying non-human characters as childlike, we allow other characters to make decisions for them, and portray this as “guidance.” In the case of the ex-Borg, I think this portrayal exists primarily to play with the dichotomy between the horrifying nature of the Borg and the recognizably innocent nature of de-assimilated Borg being like children, and in examples such as Hugh’s, it can be rather effective. But that doesn’t change the fact that treating these characters as children opens up an entire host of problematic tropes and attitudes that feel like they shouldn’t exist in the future, when humanity has supposedly evolved past making such judgments against people.

Now, I’m not saying that the future portrayed in media should be perfect. But although I’m not asking for perfection, I do hope that modern writers consider the world they’re writing, and realize that if it’s supposed to be a utopic place full of diversity, acceptance, and tolerance, those things need to exist for all kinds of people. I believe it’s a mistake to exclude non-sexual and/or non-romantic people from this, to pretend identities like asexuality, aromanticism, and their related identities couldn’t possibly exist, or to actively try and tamp down these portrayals if they begin to crop up, as we see with many of the examples in this post. And yet this is precisely what we see happening and it’s part of the reason why I think we need to question how we portray these worlds.

How the Future Views the Present

Something I’ve noticed as a lover of sci-fi is the tendency of futuristic media to look back on “the past” – which is usually our present or our near future – and make fun of it. In fact, it’s something of a personal pet peeve of mine when Star Trek does this and chooses to refer to the events of the 2000s as “ancient history,” since ancient as we use it nowadays refers to things that happened thousands of years ago, not a mere four centuries. But perhaps the most annoying part of this is the fact that, although they may wish to view our present attitudes as deeply archaic, they nevertheless manage to reproduce them, even as they try to make fun of the present for its failings. As much as I love the optimism of Star Trek in believing we’ll have a better future and as much as I’d like that better future to be real, I sometimes wonder what the writers who pen these jokes expect that to actually look like.

It's a personal rule in my analysis that I never expect representation to occur in everything, nor do I expect every piece of media to include it. However, if a piece of media gives me seemingly aspec characters or if it concerns itself with representing different types of people proudly, then I tend to look at it with a more critical eye. This is why I hold Star Trek and other media that tries to portray an enlightened future to such a high standard. If you’re going to highlight the failings of the present and then try to portray a better version of things, I think it’s fair for people like me to be disgruntled when that future still views things through the same archaic lens you elect to poke fun at.

While I don’t think it’s entirely possible – or even productive – to shake off every present-day convention when writing futuristic media, certain tropes and limitations are glaring in these genres. It’s tough to swallow the notion that the 24th century would still tolerate things like calling non-sexual people prudes, even if it is from one alien race to another; but it’s especially hard to swallow the fact that this is a 20th or 21st century writer assuming those things would still be a part of a world four hundred years in the future. As I said earlier, I don’t believe futuristic media is required to feature aspec representation, but when it portrays a future where someone like me would still have to deal with all the tropes and stereotypes I have to deal with nowadays, I can’t help but be a little frustrated by this limited vision.

But that’s precisely why I think it’s useful to challenge the established definitions of the future. I believe people tend to default to what they know and what they themselves have experienced, and so if these definitions aren’t scrutinized, there is no way media can grow and become better. There will always be interpretations of the future – and here, in the year 2023, we even still have new Star Trek shows specifically – so it’s essential to point out the places where these portrayals can evolve into something better. And the best part is, this isn’t especially difficult. Just by stopping and realizing that there is no universal template for how people live life, even in our present day, I believe we can realize there is no universal template for how to experience the future either.

Image description: This picture features Tuvok (in the background) and Tom Paris (in the foreground) from Star Trek: Voyager, disguised here to try and blend into the 20th century. There is a bit of a running joke in Voyager that Tom loves "the past" but is often a little off about what it entails. In many ways, we who love sci-fi are a bit like Tom, only in reverse - we love the future but don't quite understand it. But maybe with a little more effort, we can get a bit better about learning these things.

I firmly believe that one of the quintessential things that makes us human – more than romance or sex or propagating the species – is having hope for the future. And, as I’ve said many times on the blog, I also believe it’s an inherent part of our human spirit that we long to tell stories. When you combine these two things, you have something incredible, unique, and wonderful. The ability to tell stories about our hope for a better future is a true gift, and one I don’t want to see mired by all the toxic tropes and harmful stereotypes of the present. Reproducing these things in our sci-fi media is a choice, and one we don’t have to make.

If writers stop and consider how they portray their characters – human and non-human alike – I’m confident we can create even better stories about the future. Star Trek serves as a great example of where these portrayals can go off the rails, but I think it also serves as a great example of the beautiful untapped potential of these stories. There is nothing stopping us from exploring strange new worlds where these tropes are truly a thing of the past and where people like me can see characters like us getting to explore, survive, and thrive. Although our vision may be limited to what we see and what we’ve experienced here in real life, sci-fi gives us the chance to cast our sights wider and to imagine what’s possible. And, through my own lens, I want to imagine a future where sci-fi media of all kinds is willing to let people like me have a chance to redefine the future too.