“Star Trek was an attempt to say that humanity will reach maturity and wisdom on the day that it begins not just to tolerate, but take a special delight in differences in ideas and differences in life forms. […] If we cannot learn to actually enjoy those small differences, to take a positive delight in those small differences between our own kind, here on this planet, then we do not deserve to go out into space and meet the diversity that is almost certainly out there.”
― Gene Roddenberry, Creator of Star Trek
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When I was around nine years old, I got my own television. Well, it wasn’t exactly a new television; it was a hand-me-down from my parents. We got a new television for the living room, so the old 24-inch, Panasonic television became my own. I was thrilled! I could finally watch what I wanted, when I wanted. Before I got cable, I had just an antenna, watching whatever stations I could pick up in my bedroom. FOX 59 came in the best.
In the evenings, usually before the 11pm news, I would watch one particular show. It took place in space, on a space station specifically, and it told stories of distant worlds populated with distinct peoples. I was enamored with this show, watching it regularly for weeks. It turns out that this show, which has stayed in my mind over 20 years later, was Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. A sequel to the highly-successful Star Trek: The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine told the story of Commander (later Captain) Benjamin Sisko, of the United Federation of Planets, and his charge to protect a space station far away from earth, one that floated near a wormhole. It shared the tales of people vastly different from one another working together towards common goals. That idea, that premise of “infinite diversity in infinite combinations,” is the guiding star of a science fiction franchise I’ve dedicated most of my life to understand and cherish. And it all started with one man, a WWII veteran who took his simple idea of a “wagon train to the stars” to heights he himself never anticipated.
Gene Roddenberry, the creator of Star Trek, wanted to make a thrilling, but intelligent science fiction series, in the vein of shows like The Twilight Zone and the Outer Limits. But where those shows often displayed the worst that humanity was capable of, Roddenberry wanted to show humanity at its best. He wanted to put together a crew of a starship that was diverse— not just in race or ethnicity, but in species— who would use their brain, as well as their conscience, to solve problems. Out of these ideas came a 1964 pilot, which was rejected, but in a twist tailor-made for television drama, Roddenberry’s idea was given a second chance, and another pilot was made. That pilot, titled “Where No Man has Gone Before,” was successful and from it Star Trek was born. While the original series only ran for 3 seasons before being canceled in 1969, it became a massive success in syndication and spawned a movie series, multiple television series, and endured as the pop-culture juggernaut we know today.
At its core, Star Trek is a show guided by a philosophy that transcends religions, creeds, and geographical boundaries— the philosophy of Humanism. Humanism is the belief in the worth, dignity, and possibility of human beings, both in our individual and collective development. As such, Humanism argues for guaranteed rights, for political and social equality, and for tolerance, empathy, and understanding. Humanists can be religious or nonreligious— I identify as a Secular Humanist— but its basic precepts are universal and applicable to all. Like me, Roddenberry was also a Humanist, whose ideas of equality, tolerance, and the capacity for freedom permeated every aspect of Star Trek. By the time he created the second series, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Roddenberry had expanded his humanist vision even further, exploring how those in the future will abandon petty interests like hoarding wealth or needless conflict and strive more towards personal and social development.
In this, he was in line with one of my favorite philosophers: the late Paul Kurtz. A founder of the modern Secular Humanist movement, Kurtz thought deeply about what it means to live an ethical, fulfilling life. In his essay, “Secular Humanism and Eupraxsophy,” (Eupraxsophy sounds like a difficult word to understand, but it’s actually quite simple. It just means “good wisdom and practice in conduct.”), he outlined four essential components of his own conception of Secular Humanism. Kurtz’s four pillars of humanism— freedom of thought, the interconnectedness of all living things, reasoned, ethical conduct, and a commitment to a democratic, tolerant society— are all on display in Star Trek. There are many classic episodes which beautifully capture the spirit of humanism, but I will focus on three episodes from the 50-plus years of Star Trek to illustrate this perspective.
“A Taste of Armageddon,” the first episode we’ll be covering, is from the Original Series, or as we trekkies call it, “TOS.” Written by Robert Hamner and Gene L. Coon, it is an archetypical science fiction parable on war and militarism. The USS Enterprise crew, led by Captain James T. Kirk, travels to a far away planet named Eminiar VII to help establish diplomatic ties between it and the United Federation of Planets, the governmental body that sponsors Starfleet, the exploration and defense wing of the Federation. They soon find out that Eminiar VII has been at war with a neighboring planet, Venidkar, for over 500 years, which surprises everyone since there’s no outward destruction or death on either planet. They wage war via computers, using state-of-the-art geolocation technology to carry out virtual “attacks” on specific regions and the “casualties” are then recorded. The casualties are ordered to end their own lives in “disintegration centers”, thus ensuring the supposedly peaceful continuation of the war. Each civilization endurings this virtual conflict as a means to maintain their way of life without having to reconcile their differences or destroy each other. This setup, which may seem a little far fetched, was a product of the Cold War, a time when the United States and the Soviet Union were locked in strenuous competition that could have resulted in real civilizational demise.
Kirk, Spock, and the rest of the Enterprise are appalled at this state of affairs and seek to undo this needless conflict. They destroy some of the disintegration centers, threaten the leadership of Eminiar VII with “General Order 24” (the destruction of the planet by the Enterprise), and ultimately destroy the very computers that make the interplanetary cold war possible. They push the leaders of Eminiar VII to realize that continued war, even as orderly as they’ve made it, is never the answer. In the following clip, you’ll see Captain Kirk, played by the legendary William Shatner, and Anan 7, the leader of Eminiar VII, discuss the possibility of peace.
Kirk’s decision to push Eminiar VII to the brink forces its people to see war as it really is— a bloody, horrific, sacrificial affair— and any attempt to make it less so is in vain. The leaders of both worlds are terrified that their war has been made real again and it forces them to seek peace, which a diplomat from the Federation offers to arbitrate. The humanistic lesson here is to reject the impulse for conflict, to build a society that is peaceful, cooperative, and tolerant of others. “A Taste of Armageddon” is a classic anti-war parable about the dangers of computerized carnage, when the wars we fight no longer make societies sacrifice. In an age of drone warfare and computer-controlled missile defense, the lessons of “A Taste of Armageddon” are more poignant than ever. As Gene Roddenberry said, “The strength of a civilization is not measured by its ability to fight wars, but rather by its ability to prevent them.”
“The Measure of a Man,” from Star Trek: the Next Generation, or “TNG”, was written by Melinda M. Snodgrass, and is one of the very best episodes in all of Star Trek. It embodies everything that humanism is about. The episode centers on Data, a member of the Enterprise crew who is a fully-functioning android (a humanoid robot), the only one known of his kind. A top scientist in Starfleet, Dr. Bruce Maddox, wants to experiment on Data to see if he can crack the code on how to make more androids like him. Data initially declines to help, knowing that Maddox is not ready to experiment and may harm him, but Maddox petitions Starfleet to have Data deemed property, without rights of any kind. Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Data’s superior officer and trusted friend, is outraged that such a decision could be made and petitions to challenge it in court. After court arguments in favor of Maddox, wherein Data is subjected to all kinds of prodding and is even turned off without notice, Picard is unsure how to argue in Data’s favor. He turns to his friend and confidant, Guinan, who helps Picard dismantle the notion of Data as property.
In the end, Picard successfully defends Data, arguing that trying to define his sentience is just as difficult as defining the sentience of a human being, thus defining him, in effect, as a new form of conscious, self-aware, intelligent life worthy of rights. Starfleet rules in favor of Data and grants him his “right to choose” whether or not to assist Maddox. He declines and remains a valued part of the Enterprise crew. What “The Measure of a Man” is trying to educate us about is the inalienable nature of individual rights and our capacity as self conscious creatures for freedom of choice. Humanism places the worth and dignity of all people as paramount in its view of ethics, regardless of their own individual identities. Data, while not human in the traditional sense, is just as human as anyone, for he is a self conscious, independent being capable of choosing his own path. A time may come in our own future where artificial life will be as conscious and self aware as we are, and I hope that those working toward that future take heed of the lessons from “The Measure of a Man.”
The final episode we’ll discuss comes from the newest Star Trek series, Strange New Worlds. “Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach,” written by Robin Wasserman & Bill Wolkoff, is another classic Star Trek parable with humanistic themes. Answering a distress signal from a ship being attacked, the USS Enterprise, this time led by Captain Christopher Pike, rescues a few people from the planet Majalis, including one of Pike’s lost loves, Alora. She asks Pike and the Enterprise to protect a young boy named the First Servant, who is about to “ascend” on Majalis, a utopian world of peace and prosperity. After many feats of daring by Pike and the Enterprise, the First Servant is protected and Pike ensures that he is ready for the ascension ceremony, which Alora invites him to. But when Pike sees what ascension really is, he is disgusted. The First Servant’s ascension is nothing more than connecting him to a complex machine that uses his brain, his body, his entire life essence to maintain Majalis, at great cost to his well being. Pike tries to fight back against the guards protecting this process but he is knocked out and moved to Alora’s quarters. In this last clip, Pike attempts to understand what is really going on.
The take away from this episode is that there are real dangers in attempting to create the “perfect society.” The First Servant’s life is deliberately harmed by the machines which use him to power and protect his home world. He is a casualty of intentional suffering. But as the clip we watched notes, is intentional suffering any worse than unintentional suffering, suffering caused by the structural inequalities of a society? Within any moral society, intentional suffering should be seen as repugnant, which is what Pike is rightly reacting to, but we must also be conscious of the ways in which structures of power unintentionally make others suffer. Humanism believes in building a society which justly understands that unintentional suffering may not be completely eliminated, but it can be intentionally mitigated, and in some forms, eliminated. But we must be aware of the real trade offs in trying to improve our systems of social cooperation. In the end, neither Pike nor Alora are completely right or wrong, and the ambiguity of suffering is something we all must think deeply about.
In all, I hope you’ve learned a little bit about the philosophy of Humanism and that these episodes from Star Trek have given you much food for thought. For today, humanity is at a crossroads. We can either give into our hatreds and destroy our future, or strive to be our better selves and seek the stars. I, for one, am an optimist, guided by a resolute commitment to the dignity of humanity and our capacity for good. That optimism, that sense of wonder at our collective future, that steadfast belief in our progress— these are values that I gained from Star Trek, and broadly, from humanism. Every day, in how we live our lives, we should cherish diversity, argue for equality, and strive towards making a better world. We will stumble along the way, making mistakes and experiencing setbacks, but as long as we learn from them and grow in our wisdom, we will ultimately lead lives that are full of love, learning, and longing. As Gene Roddenberry said, “It is the struggle itself that is most important. We must strive to be more than we are. It does not matter that we will not reach our ultimate goal. The effort itself yields its own reward.”
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“It isn't all over; everything has not been invented; the human adventure is just beginning.”