I place a lot of my hopes in an imaginary ship.

Star Trek is my favorite show and franchise. That will become obvious by the end of this post, but I thought we should just go with a thesis statement so nobody is surprised.

Despite my commitment to blogging on this site, I have a secret—I kind of hate it?

Not in the writing, posting, or sharing my thoughts-kind-of-way, but in the “am I really adding anything to better the culture around me?”-sort of way. I don’t want to waste my time and yours, and in this age of artificially generated slop, I think it requires far more thoughtfulness than ever before.

Some may read that and think it hesitation, but it’s not. It’s consideration, and of the type Star Trek has been trying to teach. It wasn’t until I was an adult I came to understand what I was missing in understanding the franchise’s deep philosophy, but when it finally clicked, I understood why I hold this franchise in the highest of regards, and no, despite the Urban Fantasy series I wrote that’s out in the world, the Bible doesn’t get up there.

(A lot of holy books don’t. A few do. But very few.)

With the recent seasons of Strange New Worlds, the upcoming debut of Starfleet Academy (which is basically all of young Jay’s hopes and dreams in a show), I tend to notice that something happens in the culture around us: Star Trek makes people listen. You’re not just watching these characters on screen and marveling at their adventures, because beyond the wonderful, wise, and sometimes wacky narratives, if Roddenberry’s vision has a place in its galaxy for you, you’re listening. And the secret is that in his universe there is a place for all of us. In our world of constant noise, the crews of various ships and stations have been able to halt the viewer for a moment in time to make sublime moral plays that also deal more honestly with ethics than the majority of what we see presented to us on film or television.

Star Trek makes us listen and hear our own hopes for a brighter future.

Now, we can definitely quibble on the quality of individual series and their merits. I think we should all agree that Section 31 underserved Michelle Yoeh, but there is reason for healthy debate about Discovery’s singular focus on Michael, or Janeway’s ruthlessness in Voyager, but nobody disagrees that Benjamin Sisko is the Daddest Man in the Alpha Quadrant. All of that is up for healthy debate, even if some people get it wrong.

(And we all get it wrong at various points. Star Trek talks about that too.)

The beauty of Roddenberry’s vision (which many have been blessed to hold and redirect its light) is that it allows a framing for the future we so desperately need, especially in times like these where economic and environmental precarity seem to bring us closer to a greater global conflict. In times of desperation, it is not only easy to embrace nihilism, greed, and a sense of individualism, but the trap created by the conditions created by those in control.

Star Trek posits the idea that humanity one day evolves past this EXACT MOMENT (whenever you’re reading this and within your cultural context) to achieve something greater. It warns us to avoid World War III and the Bell Riots, it warns us to avoid tyrants, and forever prescient, it warns of us the dangers of militarism, fascism, intolerance, and speciesism as an analogy for race and gender discrimination. It even takes stands on sciences that are only coming into their full focus now, like genetics and artificial intelligence.

For the record, Star Trek isn’t woke—It’s sincerely humanistic and progressive. It always has been and there is a difference. It has always been about humanity breaking past the conservative bias that holds it back from exploring the unknown in the universe and within us, things that cannot easily be co-opted for campaigns and commercialism (though various writers have often tried and failed.)

The reason I set out to write this post is because with the merger of Paramount and Skydance and the clear political bents of the new ownership, Star Trek is on the edge of another era of vast changes. Whereas Kurtzman and company tried to accentuate and explore Roddenberry’s vision (again, we can disagree about how well they did it), whomever comes next might be motivated to alter or attempt to graft the politics of the new ownership onto Roddenberry’s message that may be the antithesis of their goals and ideals.

Roddenberry is very, very clear about what Star Trek is about:

Through acceptance and exploration of the universe’s infinite diversity in infinite combinations, which we should delight in, we find ourselves a path beyond the greed, hatred, and lust that conquered our pasts. Any message that tries to make Star Trek promote or hold up the merits of greed, hatred, and lust is a message Roddenberry would not approve of. I would also add apathy to the list as well, given the current bent of conservative minds to do away with empathy entirely.

If there is one final thing Star Trek teaches, it is empathy for the stranger and curiosity for the unknown, and not the fear of either.

Keep communications open, because until that moment happens, we need to hold to hope. And if the challenge rears, we need to do what duty calls us to do and stand up for the dignity of others. That’s what Gene, Leonard, Nichelle, and the rest gone to the stars would truly want from us if we understood the message. Until next time, live long and prosper, my friends!