Review
Culture
Film & TV
Zombies
5 min read

To boldly hope: how Star Trek dares us to be better

Amid dystopian dramas, Paula Duncan analyses the attraction of the Star Trek franchise.

Paula Duncan is a PhD candidate at the University of Aberdeen, researching OCD and faith.

Spock and Kirk stand on the bridge of a spacecraft.
The young Spock and Kirk, in 2009's Star Trek.

It’s something of a running joke that the popular animated series The Simpsons can predict the future – so much so that this was addressed by Time magazine. It is far from the only show that has a take on our pending fate. There is no shortage of dystopian futures available to us – nuclear war, rising sea levels, zombie apocalypse, super-contagious virus… Some of these no longer feel quite as fictional or remote a possibility as we might like. Such storytelling allows us to consider what it might mean for us to live through such scenarios and, perhaps, think more carefully about how we might prevent them.  

I’m sure there are movies, games, books, or TV shows that spring to mind for each of us when we think about this. For me, it is the Hunger Games and the Divergent book series by Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth, respectively. Even when these stories offer us a hopeful possibility of redemption, they do so in the wake of disasters that humanity has failed to prevent. We are invited to dwell in the worst parts of humanity and human nature. In some stories we destroy ourselves. In others, we find ourselves simply destroyed. I find it all too easy to become preoccupied by the potential horrors in our near or distant future. 

This is why I’m so drawn to the vision of the future that the Star Trek franchise offers. There’s a hopeful message at the heart of the series that makes our continued existence seem plausible but doesn’t discount the changes we need to collectively make to achieve this. I am slowly making my way through Star Trek: Deep Space 9, having now completed The Original Series (TOS) and The Next Generation, and I’m always struck by this ultimately hopeful view for our future. It’s a not-quite utopian view of the future. We don’t achieve perfection in any way but we do learn to survive and thrive despite the challenges presented to us.  

What do we pass on to our literal next generation? What morals, what values? What hope for a future in which we both survive and thrive? This, I think, is the crucial point. 

It's certainly not perfect. There are definitely things that are uncomfortable on the show – the portrayal of women, for one thing, often misses the mark in TOS. But I do think it represents a beginning, a promise that things can get better. I’m reluctant to write any line that begins “for its time”, but I think there is something in that here. I also defer to the judgement of someone who was actually there, contributing to the formation of the Star Trek universe: Nichelle Nichols, who played Lt. Uhura. She wrote compellingly about the importance of diverse representation in the cast and what it meant to viewers in her autobiography Beyond Uhura. She reflected there:  

Like all of Gene’s characters, Uhura embodied humankind’s highest values and lived according to principles that he was certain would one day guide all human endeavor. In Star Trek Gene created a work of fiction through which he communicated a timely, yet timeless message about humankind’s power to shape its future. But most important, he gave that vision to the world: to writers, to enlarge upon; to directors, to dramatize; to actors, to personify and make real; and to audiences, to enjoy, cherish, and incorporate into their own hopes for the future and for humanity. 

For all its flaws, TOS set up a universe where we could see a better and fairer future for ourselves. In this early series, there are certainly problematic elements that would be written differently today. But there is, at least, hope.  

What speaks most clearly to me is the idea of stewardship. For those unfamiliar with the franchise, it began when TOS originally aired in 1966 and follows the crew of the star ship Enterprise on a five-year exploratory mission through space. On the bridge, Captain James T. Kirk is accompanied by some of the best crew Starfleet has to offer. We follow them through the stars, visiting new people(s) and places and getting into an uncanny number of scrapes.  

Airing in 1987, The Next Generation shows us the new and improved Enterprise is now captained by Jean-Luc Picard and a whole new crew with new skills and talents but the principles are the same – a crew that looks out for one another and their ship, caring for their home away from home. The Enterprise changes and different people take the helm, but the common goals remain. 

Perhaps if we contemplate our world to be something like this: if we consider that we might each be given a collective opportunity to hold the fate of our planet, how should we act to make sure that we hand over the best possible future to those that come next? What do we pass on to our literal next generation? What morals, what values? What hope for a future in which we both survive and thrive? This, I think, is the crucial point 

There are some key messages that we can draw from Star Trek’s view of our future. Captain Kirk frequently talks fondly of an Earth that has eradicated poverty and many unjust power structures. What might need to change for us to get to a position where we hold the same values? Where might we need to sacrifice personal gain in order to create a more sustainable world? I cannot help but think that we are not acting on this as quickly as we should be. The BBC recently published an article focusing on the episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine in which 2024 is shown to be a year of riots and unrest on Earth. Even in our sci-fi not-quite-utopian future, our progress is slow.  

I’d like to conclude with a reference to the 2009 movie reboot of Star Trek. Captain Pike says to a young Jim Kirk:

“your father was Captain of a star ship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's. And yours. I dare you to do better.”  

What if we looked at our stewardship of our planet in the same way? We briefly, collectively, have a chance to make a difference. We have a chance to do better. We need, therefore, to boldly go.  

Review
Character
Culture
Music
4 min read

Lady Gaga’s battle for authenticity

A new album, and interviews, reveal her progress.

Jamie is Vicar of St Michael's Chester Square, London.

A black and white photo of a woman about to open her mouth to sing.
Ladygaga.com.

'Bridled' isn't the first word that comes to mind about Lady Gaga. She has never struck me as being someone restrained and confined. But in a wide-ranging interview in the New York Times, she recently spoke about how the music industry 'bridles' women in music: "they talk to you a lot about your look and what the aesthetic is for the album and the “brand” of music. That started to affect how I made music.” 

Whether it's others' beliefs that her more adventurous personas were the real her, or that the 'normcore' (as she puts it) of acting in A Star is Born was a sellout, she is keen to own for herself the definition of authenticity. And, two decades on, she is determined finally to match her relentless authenticity with authority. In interviews with both the New York Times and the Times of London, she has described herself as 'the boss’. 

Emerging from several significant personal battles, not least the price of fame itself, Gaga is well-placed to be an authority on authority and authenticity. The jazz musician Miles David said, “Man, sometimes it takes you a long time to sound like yourself.” By returning to her pop roots in her new album Mayhem, she is eschewing the fear of what others might think. Gaga reflects that however romanticised the tortured creative can be, it is unhealthy, and she didn't enjoy this past self when making music, contrasted with the joy of making music from a more contented place now. 

When fame is so caught up with artistry (her first album in 2008 was The Fame, reissued a year later as The Fame Monster), she is communicating a sense of peace at where she has arrived in her career. Brittany Spanos reviewed her new album in Rolling Stone by saying “Gaga feels like her most authentic self from start to finish on this album: There’s no characters, concepts, or aesthetic impulses overshadowing the songs,”. This chimes with what Gaga said in her interview in the New York Times about how her work had previously taken over her: “I was falling so deeply into the fantasy of my artwork and my stage persona that I lost touch. I changed my name and refused to live outside my art, but gravity brought me home.” She may be iconic but she is not her own iconoclast: she is comfortable with myriad expressions without being defined by them.  

For someone bothered about authenticity, it was an authentic friendship that inspired her to have hope to emerge more fully from her battles. 

Now, the 'Perfect Celebrity' as one of the tracks on her album is called, she invites us to think about our relationship with those in fame, but also the battle for authenticity as one who is famous: “The way that we feel about celebrities, whether good or bad, is just part of the entertainment now. So you need to acknowledge that and then also acknowledge that there are now two selves. The real you, in private, and the one you project to the world. And this is something a lot of people face nowadays — which part of myself should I value more?” Gaga recognises the necessity of the platform and image for her work, but “It feels further away from who I am.” 

This disconnect between the authentic self and the one portrayed is one we all face - Gaga says: “There is just more of a stage for everybody now. Everyone has the opportunity to have fame." Is it possible for people growing up today to discover who they are, when a version of fame is enmeshed with themselves?  

For Lady Gaga, Jonathan Dean writes that being able to experience 'realness' saved her life. “I mean my fiancé, his mother, my family. Friendships — the real ones. Going to the store, making dinner. That is what made my whole life more rich.” She pauses. “I wouldn’t say fame made my life more full.”’  

In particular, she credits her now-fiancé with her general wellbeing. If you listen to The Interview podcast from the New York Times, the moment she breaks down in tears is when she is asked how she knew that Michael was genuine. She said it was because he wanted to be her friend. For someone bothered about authenticity, it was an authentic friendship that inspired her to have hope to emerge more fully from her battles. 

Being saved by fullness of life through friendship is something that Jesus spoke about. He chimes with Gaga's reflections on an industry that sought to take so much from her, when he says: "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” 

Lady Gaga's experience will be more extreme than most of us will endure, but we all have those places where things are taken from us and given to us, destructive and creative. It is noteworthy that her sense of own human flourishing, and being her 'authentic' self has come through relationship. And that's surely something to sing about. 

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