Redefining the Future, part 3

 

Image description: The conclusion of "Blink of an Eye," one of my favorite episodes of Star Trek: Voyager. It's an episode that deals with how history and culture evolve, what influences them, and how we can be a part of that - all of which are topics that I not only love but which I think are very relevant to my continued examination of the future, especially the future portrayed by Star Trek and media like it. All images in post obtained from TrekCore.

Recently, I was having a conversation with a coworker who was lamenting the limitations of our modern world. Another coworker and I – both of us Trekkies – told him that he would love the world as portrayed throughout Star Trek, a utopia where humanity is at peace and has moved past many of the things that trip us up in the modern day. As a lifelong fan of the franchise, Star Trek’s idyllic future has always been what I picture when I think about the future, a beautiful far horizon to always strive for. However, any reader of the blog knows that there are limitations in this optimistic future too, ones that I have pointed out countless times on the blog, but especially in the posts I have dubbed “Redefining the Future.”

I will always love the future as portrayed by Star Trek and deeply admire the way this vision of a better future has inspired generations of people to create change and growth in the real world, but there are definitely places where this vision has fallen down. Because the series inspires so many people to believe in the possibilities of a better world and encourages them to make these dreams a reality, I think it bears discussing and analyzing how that optimistic future does not yet include everyone. As I said, it’s a topic I’ve frequently discussed through my aspec lens, and yet there is so much more to uncover, which is why I am resurrecting this topic again in order to cover the ground I’ve yet to cover.

While there are many visions of the future, I will be focusing specifically on Trek, as I often do, since – as I said – its vision of the future is the one that appeals to me the most throughout sci-fi. I also believe it is valuable to focus this analysis on Star Trek because its utopian model is so full of diversity and equality, making it all the more important to point out places where our modern day writers fell short of that goal. So once again I will be reaching for the stars as I critique this version of the future and try to make space for people like me (no pun intended) to also be part of this glorious dream. Only by looking at how the future treats people like me can we ever hope to create a better path.

Spoiler warning! 

Star Trek: The Original Series (various)

Star Trek: The Next Generation ("Booby Trap," "Galaxy's Child," etc.)

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (various)

Star Trek: Voyager (various)

--------------------------------

How the future views people who are “not normal”

At the risk of belaboring a point I often make on the blog, it’s somewhat ironic that utopic versions of the future are almost always built around the idea of accepting people of all kinds, only to demonstrate to us that that is rarely the case in practice. Sometimes, of course, this is the entire point of a piece of media and the story centers around these cruel truths. But other times, these ironies seem to be entirely lost on the characters of a utopic world, usually because it seems like these same ironies were entirely lost on the writers who brought the piece of media to life in the first place. Star Trek has this problem in spades, and while this can lead to fascinating stories where people of various kinds explore and celebrate the things that make them different, this isn’t always the reality for everyone or every race throughout the galaxy.

This functions in a variety of ways. For instance, although the world of Star Trek is proud of having left behind certain stereotypes and forms of bigotry, such as racial or gender discrimination, sometimes these things are replaced with new forms of bigotry, such as against alien races. For a series that is rooted in the mission “to seek out new life and new civilizations,” this has always struck me as odd. For instance, throughout the franchise, human characters will express dismay and frustration with the Vulcans they encounter, and while there are plenty of examples of great Vulcan/human friendships, the discrimination the Vulcans are subjected to is nevertheless present enough that it makes me question why this is a factor in the series at all.

This, of course, happens to various alien races throughout the franchise; in fact, this attitude extends to many characters in general, and anyone who isn’t “normal” by our 21st century standards seems to face scrutiny in the 24th century as well, despite the notion of this “enlightened” future. Naturally, this is something that is especially pronounced when dealing with groups or characters that are routinely misunderstood and misrepresented in modern media, and a huge staple of my blog over the years has been analyzing how non-sexual and/or non-romantic characters are “othered” by the franchise and subjected to often terrible portrayals.

For instance, despite a diverse roster of alien races, no species we’ve met in the show is allowed to be asexual in any type of meaningful way. From The Next Generation’s portrayal of the Lyaarans (who have no concept of love and thus can’t understand it) to Deep Space Nine’s brief portrayal of the Arbazan (calling them a “sexually oppressed” race), there is very little acceptance extended to these races or characters who are a part of them. They are almost always portrayed very briefly, portrayed very poorly, or used as a joke or a throwaway line. Sometimes races that have no reason to be sexual are portrayed as such, or else are given sexual stand-ins even for otherwise asexual mating rituals. Sometimes they are portrayed as villains, and their lack of sexuality or “understanding” of love is used to highlight that fact, all of which paints a problematic picture of what the writers believe asexuality and aromanticism would look like, even among an otherwise diverse and expansive galaxy.

In fact, the opposite is often true – rather than allow some of the galaxy’s most unique races to be aspec, it’s instead far more common to see highly sexualized races or sexualized groups within larger alien races. The Deltans, the infamous “slave girls” who are part of the green-skinned Orion race, the Taresians from the Voyager episode “Favorite Son,” and even the empathic metamorphic race the Kirosians (see Kamala in TNG’s “The Perfect Mate”) have an inherently sexual element, just to name a few. In these cases, the future as portrayed by Star Trek seems far less interested in portraying these races as interesting and unique, but is far more interested in portraying them as sexualized just for the sake of it. Their otherness is used to make them sexually desirable, and the idea of them being different than humans is simply played for that sexual element.

Image description: A depiction of what Orion slave girls are like, this image comes from the very first pilot of The Original Series, the unaired episode "The Cage," which is proof this type of thing has been in Star Trek from the beginning.

There is also the strange implication that sex and sexuality must be the same throughout the universe. While there are a few throwaway lines through various pieces of Trek media that suggest otherwise, a large majority of the franchise treats sexual and/or romantic feelings as a default for everyone – to the point where even love potions, shapeshifting monsters, and space diseases assume everyone is sexual too. Whether that’s the weird way the shapeshifting alien from TOS’s “The Man Trap” tries to lure various members of the crew or the space illness in TNG’s “The Naked Now” – responsible for Data’s first sexual encounter – these plots are uninventive and unimaginative for a series that has so much to work with.

As mentioned earlier, the same is true for individual characters who have aspec and aspec-adjacent tendencies. These characters are routinely subjected to scrutiny and are often treated as needing to conform to human standards of sexuality and/or romance specifically, even if they themselves are decidedly not human – perhaps, it could be said, especially if they’re not human. Throughout my blog’s history, I’ve discussed characters like the former Borg drone Seven of Nine, the shapeshifting Changeling Odo, Voyager’s holographic doctor, or Data the android, all of whom are not sexual and/or romantic when they start their journeys, and most of whom are expected to conform to mandatory sexuality and compulsory romance eventually. Although their individual journeys are very different and all of these characters go through various struggles in addition to these romantic and/or sexual subplots, the shared undertone is obvious: all of these characters are different and they are expected to conform one way or another.

This conveys the idea that, even in an enlightened future with diverse aliens, incredible technology, and a newfound sense of peace and togetherness, aspec identities will still be considered too bizarre. This is deeply disappointing when you consider the things Star Trek has been able to accomplish over its rich history. People of all genders, races, and ethnicities have been inspired by watching the show from its earliest days and the show has done so much important work when it comes to representation, and yet it constantly misses the mark every time it has an opportunity to potentially tell an aspec story. This is frustrating because it makes it impossible to have characters to even headcanon as aspec, since these stories are so focused on making its characters sexual rather than allowing them to be who they are.

The idea of sexualizing these characters always seems to contain an obvious through line, regardless of series: it is the act, whether intentionally or unintentionally, of changing these characters so they become more recognizable and more acceptable to both the other characters and to the audiences watching these shows. These characters are not human, but they are treated as if they must be or else are ostracized. Data from The Next Generation is a very clear example of this, for as an android, he looks human, but lacks human attributes. This lack of human experience and/or emotion is something even played for laughs, something which is jarring when you consider he often can’t control these things, making it so that the thing that makes him different is not celebrated, but rather used to “other” him.

Seven of Nine from Star Trek: Voyager, a character whom I discuss frequently on the blog, is also an interesting – if not paradoxical – example of this situation. Seven is technically human, and the show explores this fact as well as the act of regaining her humanity after being rescued from the Borg. In fact, it explores this fact over and over and over again in various episodes across various seasons. Yet at the same time, the other crew members on Voyager don’t hesitate to repeatedly refer to Seven, the woman they forcibly liberated from the Borg, as a Borg drone despite this. They remind us she’s Borg, talk about her Borg-ness, and discuss the non-human things her status as a former drone allow her to do, while also deriding how un-human she is, even as they attempt to make her more human. In essence, they find her Borg attributes useful, but off-putting, and would much rather she be more like them.

Of course, in the case of all of these characters, the thing that is used to make them most relatable to their human or humanoid crewmates is for them to eventually embrace romantic and/or sexual relationships. These plot points always bother me not only because they negate these characters’ aspec vibes in wholly unnecessary and often derogatory ways, but because they ignore other instances in which these characters embraced unique elements of humanity. Seven learns to see the Voyager crew as her family, Data learns how to paint, The Doctor develops an interest in music, Odo forms bonds of deep friendship with people who understand and cherish him, and yet none of these things are seen as the pinnacle of these characters’ and their stories; sex and/or romance are.

Something else that’s important to note about these plot points is that they happen whether or not the characters in question actually want to be human. While Data, for instance, longs to be human, characters like Odo and Seven express no interest in being like everyone else, and The Doctor merely wants to be treated like an equal, not changed. However, their respective shows nevertheless make them conform to whatever standards their more stereotypically “normal” crewmates demand of them. When it comes to sex and romance, they are usually pushed into these situations, whether or not they express their disinterest in these subjects – and sometimes specifically because they do express disinterest. Oftentimes, these characters are actively not allowed to reject these things, which leads to some worrying implications, and which, I believe, represents another clear way this vision of the future is not always as idyllic as we like to think.

How the future views consent

When most people hear the word “consent,” they likely think about the absolutely vital and crucial first step of any kind of sexual intimacy – the act of obtaining permission. However, consent is a much more complex topic and has many more layers than just one essential “yes,” nor is consent only tied to sex or sexuality. Rather, consent is an integral part of many interactions and should form the backbone of healthy relationships of all kinds. I also believe it should be tightly woven into society on multiple levels and is an important part of building a better and more ideal world for all people.

For as much as I adore Star Trek and its optimistic view of the future, I have to admit that, as someone who is consent-obsessed when it comes to media, there are some blatant consent issues baked into its lore and worldbuilding that I can’t ignore. From the earliest episodes of the series, there is the odd implication that entire planets and races of aliens (or at least certain genders of those races) exist just for the sake of sexualization – from “pleasure planets” to slave girls to strangely sexist marriage schemes, there is far too many instances of the franchise relying on very regressive ideas about consent or lack thereof.

While of course not every alien species that Starfleet encounters shares their value system, the way the show portrays these things isn’t always nuanced, and sometimes the Starfleet crews themselves show shockingly little concern for the people whose choice is stripped away. Even worse, sometimes they too engage in activities that disregard good consent and show very little consideration for how problematic these behaviors are. This is a problem because it means, first and foremost, that the writers did not consider these things flagrant violations of good consent and its principles, or else didn’t care.

Sometimes, these things are decidedly sci-fi in their application, and the franchise attempts to use this fact as a sort of justification for otherwise uncomfortable plot points. For instance, in a previous post, I went on at length about the sex holograms of Star Trek: Voyager and how disturbing they are from a consent standpoint, especially when a large majority of The Doctor’s storylines involve encouraging his human crewmates to think of holographic beings as people. The implication is that it’s somehow okay to not care about consent simply because “it’s the holodeck,” which is already a disturbing attitude on the face of it, but becomes even worse when you consider what the holodeck can be used for.

I can’t help but think immediately about a few different plots in TNG. The one that chiefly comes to mind is a multi-episode plot where the ship’s chief engineer Geordi La Forge creates a holographic version of the doctor who designed the engine in the first place – Dr. Leah Brahms – to help him solve an engineering problem. Throughout the episode, Geordi becomes increasingly more attached to the holographic version of Dr. Brahms, feeling like they work perfectly as a team and that she is everything he could ever want in a romantic partner as well as a working one, describing her as warm, friendly, and brilliant. He feels confident this is her actual personality because, when the computer made the hologram, it used elements from her Starfleet record to create said hologram. And yet, when he meets her in a future episode, she is nothing like the hologram he became so attached to.

In theory, this concept could be taken in a few different directions, but instead the show does some incredibly questionable things from a consent and ethics standpoint in how Geordi interacts with Leah. Because he has seen her file and knows certain details about her thanks to his previous interactions with the hologram, he not only uses this inside knowledge to try and win her over, but throughout the episode seems convinced that he somehow knows her better than she knows herself. This would be creepy enough if Geordi was using subterfuge to try and woo a single woman, but it turns out that the real-life Leah is married anyway, which leads to Geordi sulking, as if he had somehow been entitled to Leah’s affections in the first place and that this was all some sort of cruel trick.

Eventually in the episode, the real Leah discovers the holographic one and is horrified. “I am outraged by this,” she says. “I have been invaded. Violated.” But Geordi is unapologetic, trying to insist his interactions with the hologram were strictly professional (which is a lie; in the previous episode in which the holographic Leah was introduced, he kissed her) and instead tells Leah how rude she’s been to him, something which is extremely mistimed in the moment. Rather than being contrite about the way he used her image for his own romantic fantasies, he is only concerned that the real Leah should be nicer to him, which is a strange reaction to have in the face of her understandable and justifiable outrage at being used in such a way.

Image description: The real Leah Brahms (in purple) is horrified to find the holographic copy of herself (in green) in the TNG episode "Galaxy's Child.

Admittedly, the episode does raise a lot of interesting points about how we see people versus how they really are and Geordi’s viewpoint is challenged masterfully by the ever-incredible Guinan. More than that, I think this episode, despite being made over thirty years ago, is more relevant now than ever thanks to the rise of AI and other such technology that can replicate human faces and voices, making this conversation all the more important. While the episode ends well enough for both characters and I’m pleased the pair has a more pleasant platonic relationship eventually, I can’t help but be baffled by the way there are no real implications or conversations about the way Geordi used the hologram of Leah, essentially taking someone who did not consent to be romantically used and not only becoming romantically attached to her, but expecting that he can not only replicate this relationship in the real world, but is entitled to do so.

As I mentioned earlier, these types of holodeck issues are present throughout Star Trek, and even in other episodes of TNG. While these episodes are often not directly about the implications of putting a real person or real likeness in the holodeck, their very existence is enough to at least make us consider it. However, the franchise could do so much more with this concept. Many of the holodeck-centric episodes are wacky, and while I wouldn’t trade some of those episodes for the world (like my beloved silly Voyager staple “Bride of Chaotica!”), I think the ethics of the holodeck could have been debated so much more, especially when it comes to the ability of people to consent to how their likenesses are used and the grey area this represents. As I also mentioned before, Voyager’s holographic doctor makes these conversations even more relevant, and yet the series itself still falls down on the question of whether or not the holograms on the holodeck should be given human rights or not.

On some level, I can understand why the series didn’t want to dive too deep into these questions, especially in decades past, since many of these conversations would actually be quite difficult to have. Consent can be a difficult topic to discuss openly, but I think the franchise really could have benefited from having more stories about the ethical implications of being allowed to do whatever you want within this holographic setting. At the same time, however, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised they chose not to explore these things on the holodeck, considering their history of struggling with them in regular storylines and situations.

When it comes to consent issues, however, Star Trek’s issues are not limited solely to sexual and/or romantic storylines; in fact, there are several instances of storylines that disrespect even the most basic functions of individual choice in ways that are actually quite problematic. To make matters worse, these things are perhaps the most present in storylines involving the non-sexual and non-romantic characters of the franchise, as I mentioned in the last section. These instances often start off as having nothing whatsoever to do with sex or romance, but are later used as springboards for bullying or shaming these characters for their lack of “normal” relationships.

For instance, one of the most basic issues of consent that I’ve mentioned before on the blog is that of Seven of Nine’s de-assimilation. While the act of separating Seven from the Borg Collective is undoubtedly a good thing, it does happen against her will, and the crew of Voyager makes the determination that she is unable to consent to their plan. Again, while they are arguably correct in that matter, given the nature of Borg assimilation, Voyager – both the titular ship and the show itself – do not let it stop there.

Image description: Seven's first appearance in the series, when she is still fully Borg.

There are numerous times in which consent is taken away from Seven due to the crew insisting she do certain things or act certain ways. From eating certain foods to experimenting with certain elements of human social interactions, there is always someone pressuring Seven to act a certain way and always someone rejecting how she currently is. In turn, this is almost always treated as though it’s for Seven’s own good and is part of her personal development, but this pressure is often put on her when she is outright saying she does not want to do something. When this eventually leads to her being cajoled into romantic relationships… well, I have dozens of posts talking about that very thing, so I’m sure you can guess how I feel about it.

Of course, any long-time reader of the blog can tell you this is not an issue just endemic to Seven or to Voyager specifically. I think it’s also important to point out that sometimes these instances are somewhat subtle, which is what makes them so insidious, since these same problems can be subtle in the real world too. A lot of times, when a character in media – both in Star Trek and in so many other pieces of fiction – is pressured into doing something, this pressure is downplayed. It’s treated as a joke or as gentle peer pressure or as even for a character’s own good, as it often is in the real world when used against real people. But when it comes to romance and especially to sex, this type of pressure flies in the face of good, informed, freely-given consent.

When society treats sex and/or romance as the requirements to live a fulfilled or judgment free life or as necessary barriers to cross before a person can be taken seriously, this is not actual consent; it’s a thinly-veiled attempt to control a person’s behavior. There are countless people out there who have been pressured into relationships before they were ready or whose sense of personal preference or even personal safety is ignored thanks to someone else deciding they somehow know better, which is why I find it so upsetting when I see these same things happen in future-focused media. Whether humans, aliens, androids, or holograms, all beings across all time periods should be allowed to chart their own future.

Can we redefine the future?

In my redefining posts, I often try to discuss ways media and culture can reorient themselves when it comes to a specific topic. But when it comes to redefining the future, such a thing sounds impossible; after all, the literal, actual future is just a construct and does not actually exist. However, the future as portrayed in media is not just something that exists, but is something that actively shapes the real future. Science fiction especially shapes the future because it is, by its very definition, a form of speculative fiction, one that thinks about the world as it is and imagines the world as it might be. This doesn’t always mean, of course, that this media is saying the world should be this way; sometimes these stories are cautionary tales. But other times, our media stands as a touchstone, an inspirational thing we find ourselves constantly reaching for.

This notion reminds me of one of my favorite episodes of Star Trek: Voyager: “Blink of an Eye,” in which Voyager finds itself stuck in the atmosphere of a planet for whom time moves much faster than for the crew. This means that, although by Voyager’s own time, they’re only in the planet’s orbit for a short while, from the planet’s point of view, the ship is seen like a bright star in their sky for millennia – from their ancient history to a technologically advanced future. Because of this, generations upon generations of people on the planet look to Voyager as an important part of their history, their culture, and even their most dearly held goals. It’s a fascinating episode, and it could function as not only a metaphor for how Star Trek and media like it shape our culture, but for how this media has shaped my own life.

As an AroAce fangirl who loves media about the future but is also a history buff, I stand as something of a paradox. I love the ideas we have about the future, but also know enough to be wary of certain ideas about how the future will be or should be. And I love history enough to see its patterns repeat and to respect it deeply, often taking issue with the way futuristic media dismisses the past as unimportant, quaint, or distant. I have a tremendous loyalty to both of these topics, but as an aspec person, also have an interesting relationship with both as well, something which I’ve explored in various blog posts.

When it comes to the past, I long to know the stories of people who were aspec throughout history and had neither the language to describe themselves nor perhaps the ability to live as they may have wanted. I know there are countless stories I will never know of people who both were and were not able to live their truth and I want to bring those stories into the light. When it comes to the future, I want to see a world created where people like me will have a voice and an ability to tell our stories – where we will be able to live our truth in a way that those who came before us might not have been able to and take full advantage of the good fortune we’ve been given. And above all, I want to see that portrayed in media so that those of us living in the here and now can likewise feel that sense of belonging.

Although complex, I don’t think that idea is necessarily difficult to do. By thinking of the future through different eyes and leaving behind the limitations of the past, it is entirely possible to create stories – and, by extension, create worlds – that are not only aspec-friendly, but which uplift people of all kinds. We don’t have to “other” people for being different, especially not in a future with diverse aliens and races of all kinds and we don’t have to make it so that only some people can enjoy the final frontier. Rather, we can all boldly go together, if only we cast our thoughts out just as boldly and invite each other to imagine a strange (and wonderful) new world.

Image description: Filed under "pictures I can hear," this image is taken from the opening credits of Star Trek: Voyager. Despite the many flaws of Star Trek, it will always be my favorite sci-fi franchise and I will always believe in the future it celebrates, the strange new worlds it visits, and the hope it brings, even if it needs a little help sometimes. To the journey!

I’m sure most people have heard the old saying that goes “yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift – that’s why it’s called the present,” and, while certainly a platitude, it’s entirely true. We have no idea what the future will actually bring, but there is one thing that is constant about the ever-changing future, and that is the fact that our actions today will shape it, including the way we choose to tell our stories. Storytelling is an act of communication, and when we tell stories about the future in particular, we are especially communicating our values, our hopes and dreams, and our belief systems, both good and bad.

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned my coworkers and I discussing the future as portrayed by Star Trek with such positivity and optimism, yearning for the future the series portrays. I believe this longing is such a powerful thing, for there is nothing more valuable and meaningful than allowing one’s self to look to the future with hope. But when I look to the future, I want to see a world where people like me are allowed to exist. For me, hope for the future has that extra layer, that extra hope that one day acceptance will be possible. It’s for that reason that I feel the need to discuss the future as portrayed in my favorite sci-fi franchise and to analyze the ways this otherwise beautiful future falls flat.

If we want to one day have a utopia the likes of which Star Trek portrays, it needs to include all of us and we can start portraying that now through a little intentionality and understanding. By redefining how we see the future and challenging the limitations of the modern world when we make these future stories, we can begin laying the foundation of a dream and begin taking steps to making that dream come true. Maybe one day there will be young aspec people who can watch pieces of media like Star Trek and see a future where they belong, and be given the hope to keep going until they reach it. Because, after all, hope is the most precious commodity that any time period – past, present, or future – could ever have.