Vacation in Afghanistan, honey moon in Congo

[Christopher]

I'm pretty sure there were also references to the USSR still existing after it fell in the real world in an early TNG episode. I can't remember which one though.

There's just one, canonically: The Tsiolkovsky dedication plaque in "The Naked Now" says the ship was built at "Baikonur Cosmodrome, USSR, Earth." And that was barely legible onscreen, so it's easily ignored.

However, the first TNG novel, Ghost Ship from 1988, mentions the USSR still existing in 1995.

 

[Ethros]

Since the whole world is now supposed to be pretty much a unified whole in the Star Trek future, I would assume that would mean that all of the countries of the would have gotten over all of the problems they have today.

Nevermind the 23rd or 24th centuries, it's fairly heavily implied Earth is totally sorted by at least 2113 from ST: First Contact
Troi: It unites humanity in a way no one ever thought possible when they realise they're not alone in the universe. Poverty, disease, war. They'll all be gone within the next fifty years.

and definitely by 2151
Broken Bow
T'Pol: You have yet to embrace either patience or logic. You remain impulsive carnivores.
Trip: Yeah? How about war, disease, hunger. Pretty much wiped 'em out in less than two generations. I wouldn't call that small potatoes.




... of course, there is that little minor thing of us having to go through a massive nuclear holocaust first...

You know, slightly off topic here, but that's always one thing that irks me about the Star Trek universe and Gene Roddenberry's "utopian vision of the future." You always hear about how Trek represents this great 'hopeful future' where racism, sexism, war, poverty, disease, hunger etc don't exist anymore. But in order to get to that we have to go through World War III first! Million of people dead. Nuclear bombs flying around everywhere. It kinda seems like Earth united because it had seen those horrors. And then finally learned from, rather than it just unifying gradually and naturally via peaceful methods.

 

[JarodRussell]

Hmm. Now I'm tempted to work a reference to Afghan theme parks and luxury resorts into the next book . . . .

And the poor slums on the other side of the fence. At least that's what I immediatedly think of when I hear about luxury resorts. Shut off artificial paradises for rich tourists in poor countries. So for me, that would be the wrong kind of reference.

 

[Christopher]

You know, slightly off topic here, but that's always one thing that irks me about the Star Trek universe and Gene Roddenberry's "utopian vision of the future." You always hear about how Trek represents this great 'hopeful future' where racism, sexism, war, poverty, disease, hunger etc don't exist anymore. But in order to get to that we have to go through World War III first! Million of people dead. Nuclear bombs flying around everywhere. It kinda seems like Earth united because it had seen those horrors. And then finally learned from, rather than it just unifying gradually and naturally via peaceful methods.

Remember, Roddenberry's vision of the future was formulated from the 1960s-80s. At that time, for many people, nuclear holocaust seemed inevitable. The idea that we would survive the 20th century at all was optimistic. Look at Carl Sagan's Cosmos where he talks about the probabilities of technological civilizations existing elsewhere in the universe. His optimistic estimate was that a whole 1 percent of technological civilizations would survive their growing pains.

So by the standards of the time, the idea that we'd go through a limited holocaust, survive it, see what we'd almost done to ourselves, and finally get some sense knocked into us and give up war forever was well toward the upper end of the optimism scale.

Although, really, I think that maybe Roddenberry's model did happen, but it was World War II that filled the role of the biggest, most cataclysmic war in history and that started to turn the tide toward peace. Because the world has mostly de-escalated since then. We went on arming and fighting wars, but with strategies designed to limit the scope of the conflict and avoid another all-out war as big as WWII or bigger. So the superpowers built all these weapons but used them mainly as deterrents against each other's aggression rather than tools of conquest, and competed by smaller proxy wars and through espionage and diplomacy and economics. We found other ways, and that gave us enough of a grace period to find even more peaceful ways, and so on. There's still plenty of violence in various parts of the world, but the probability of the average individual personally experiencing war or violence has been declining for decades. So there was no great moment of epiphany that changed us in one fell swoop, but WWII gave us an incentive to try to reverse direction, and the world has been gradually, imperfectly feeling its way toward a more peaceful state ever since. Our old bad habits still linger and have a grip on us, but we've been trying harder to find other ways, largely because we learned from the horrors of WWII.

So in a way, Roddenberry was right, but the world hadn't realized yet that the big, cataclysmic global war that started to change humanity's perspective had already happened, because that change was so gradual that it took a couple of generations to see it.

 

[CorporalCaptain]

The Doomsday Clock is currently set at five minutes until midnight [link]. A survey of criticisms of Pinker's work can be found here, a lot of it quite convincing. Mankind is hardly out of the woods.

 

[Stevil2001]

The idea that utopia can only be born out of apocalypse is a pretty common one-- most of H. G. Wells's utopian fiction takes that as a starting point, for example, and he was not the only writer of the nineteenth century thinking that way. I think people have such a hard time imagining the amount of cultural and political change that a utopia would require, and it becomes easier to imagine with an immensely horrific event essentially causing a societal restart.

 

[Christopher]

^Also, the point of stories like that is to be cautionary tales -- "If we don't change for the better, disaster will result." So it helps get that point across to show just how bad things could get before showing the alternative. Naturally the storytellers' hope is that by showing such catastrophes in fiction, they can encourage people to avoid them in reality. And I'd like to think that's a factor in what happened, that thinking about apocalyptic scenarios gave us an incentive to find alternatives.

Plus there's the simple fact that "A huge catastrophe forced us to make a drastic change" makes for a more concise and dramatic story than "We gradually, incrementally improved things over generations."

 

[Deranged Nasat]

This type of conversation is always so very interesting.

So by the standards of the time, the idea that we'd go through a limited holocaust, survive it, see what we'd almost done to ourselves, and finally get some sense knocked into us and give up war forever was well toward the upper end of the optimism scale.

No offence, because this isn't supposed to be directed at you (or indeed at anyone), but I've never liked the appeal to "we", as though all of humanity is somehow a unity that shares a perspective and, implicitly, an series of attitudes (particularly as the driving assumption behind the idea often seems to be that humans are foolish and inferior and need "improving", something I take issue with). It seems a bit arrogant, and the fact that one is placing themselves among the others does little to change that. Regarding the concept of self-improvement (whether the self is an individual or a social grouping), isn't this something that stems from societies where religious perspectives encourage the idea of inherent flaws and the need for self-censure, in contrast to tribal cultures where people are considered inherently good and conscience is constructed through social pressure and a series of consequences? That social pressure is then, I suppose, projected onto ever-watching judgemental gods who can dole out consequences for everything you think or believe, or for things no-one else saw you do, so you need to stay in line all the time and watch yourself, which is how the one way shifts into the other? Meaning no offence to our members of faith - if you'll excuse my atheistic perspective on this - is not a god merely the voice of internal conscience projected outward combined with assumption of augmented powers of social censure from without?

That said, there's an irony here, although I hope not an example of hypocrisy, because I do view the vast majority of people as acting, thinking and constructing their account of themselves collectively, building an identity in collective terms. It's the same instinct for group dynamics that gives them tribes and clans and political parties and ideologies and religious nations. But not everyone claims membership in such things. Again, this is nothing but a casual observation, but I've always personally bristled at "we". When the press or other media tries the "we're all in this together, don't we all share this particular feeling/perspective" (as British tabloid papers do annoyingly often, by the way), I don't particularly like it. That's important of course - I know it's often a rhetorical tool deliberately employed and not necessarily a base perspective, but still. I always think: You, maybe. Them, perhaps. Not we. It's just the way my mind naturally works, I suppose.

I guess what I'm saying, in a sense, is that the appeal to humanity as "we" always makes me think, "what do you mean we, white man?"

Although putting it that way makes me seem a bit of a weasel, doesn't it? It's certainly not about me trying to deny responsibility (I take the concept of the individual having personal responsibility for the society around them seriously, it's an important part of my personal ethical perspective, albeit expressed in what I've come to see is an unusual way)

Although, really, I think that maybe Roddenberry's model did happen, but it was World War II that filled the role of the biggest, most cataclysmic war in history and that started to turn the tide toward peace. Because the world has mostly de-escalated since then. We went on arming and fighting wars, but with strategies designed to limit the scope of the conflict and avoid another all-out war as big as WWII or bigger. So the superpowers built all these weapons but used them mainly as deterrents against each other's aggression rather than tools of conquest, and competed by smaller proxy wars and through espionage and diplomacy and economics. We found other ways, and that gave us enough of a grace period to find even more peaceful ways, and so on. There's still plenty of violence in various parts of the world, but the probability of the average individual personally experiencing war or violence has been declining for decades. So there was no great moment of epiphany that changed us in one fell swoop, but WWII gave us an incentive to try to reverse direction, and the world has been gradually, imperfectly feeling its way toward a more peaceful state ever since. Our old bad habits still linger and have a grip on us, but we've been trying harder to find other ways, largely because we learned from the horrors of WWII.

So in a way, Roddenberry was right, but the world hadn't realized yet that the big, cataclysmic global war that started to change humanity's perspective had already happened, because that change was so gradual that it took a couple of generations to see it.

Much as I agree with the general point regarding gradual shifts in perspective rather than sudden cultural epiphanies, I can't personally agree that the current global civilization has learned many lessons from World Wars I and II - at least not the lessons I would have had them learn (to again be annoyingly personal here). If anything, I believe they've become ever more entrenched in the attitudes and instincts that excuse and justify the perspectives and philosophies that allowed those wars to take place.

But then, they might say to me, "what do you mean, we?", mightn't they?

 

[Greg Cox]

Hmm. Now I'm tempted to work a reference to Afghan theme parks and luxury resorts into the next book . . . .

And the poor slums on the other side of the fence. At least that's what I immediatedly think of when I hear about luxury resorts. Shut off artificial paradises for rich tourists in poor countries. So for me, that would be the wrong kind of reference.

Good point. How about the world-famous parks and museums?

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Hmm. Now I'm tempted to work a reference to Afghan theme parks and luxury resorts into the next book . . . .

And the poor slums on the other side of the fence. At least that's what I immediatedly think of when I hear about luxury resorts. Shut off artificial paradises for rich tourists in poor countries. So for me, that would be the wrong kind of reference.

Good point. How about the world-famous parks and museums?

Or an important institution that forms an essential part of the United Earth political/social structure, based in Afghanistan and drawing on their cultural history? Before it all fell apart.

 

[Christopher]

No offence, because this isn't supposed to be directed at you (or indeed at anyone), but I've never liked the appeal to "we", as though all of humanity is somehow a unity that shares a perspective and, implicitly, an series of attitudes

Well, when we're talking about the survival or extinction of the entire species as a group, I think that's the one context where it's not only legitimate, but essential to think of ourselves as all sharing a common interest.

(particularly as the driving assumption behind the idea often seems to be that humans are foolish and inferior and need "improving", something I take issue with). It seems a bit arrogant, and the fact that one is placing themselves among the others does little to change that.

Then you're missing the point. Everyone is imperfect, and the only people who can get better are those who are willing to admit their own fallibility and make the effort to improve. People whose pride won't let them accept criticism of themselves as individuals or factions -- or, more importantly, engage in self-criticism -- will never be able to learn from experience and improve themselves. So it's absolutely not about condescension. It's more like therapy -- encouraging people to question themselves in order to help them better themselves and overcome the flaws we all have.

Regarding the concept of self-improvement (whether the self is an individual or a social grouping), isn't this something that stems from societies where religious perspectives encourage the idea of inherent flaws and the need for self-censure, in contrast to tribal cultures where people are considered inherently good and conscience is constructed through social pressure and a series of consequences?

Absolutely not. Criticism is not the same as censure. There's no shame in making a mistake, because everyone makes mistakes. We're all fallible. But that's not some kind of "original sin" we're forever trapped by, just a common-sense recognition that bettering ourselves takes effort and willingness to learn. The underlying assumption is not that humans are inferior -- on the contrary, it's that humans have the capacity to learn from their mistakes and make themselves and their world better, so long as they're able to recognize the problems and make the effort to solve them. I see that as entirely humanist, not religious.

Much as I agree with the general point regarding gradual shifts in perspective rather than sudden cultural epiphanies, I can't personally agree that the current global civilization has learned many lessons from World Wars I and II - at least not the lessons I would have had them learn (to again be annoyingly personal here). If anything, I believe they've become ever more entrenched in the attitudes and instincts that excuse and justify the perspectives and philosophies that allowed those wars to take place.

Except that those perspectives and philosophies have not led to a comparable or greater war in the subsequent 70 years. We still have the same clashes over belief and faction and territory, but we -- or, in concession to your distaste for that word, an increasing percentage of distinct factions of humanity -- have begun finding less cataclysmic ways of waging them. And that's a step in the right direction, even if it's a very small one.

 

[T'Girl]

Good point. How about the world-famous parks and museums?

Or the Olympic Games, the Olympic villages and sports complexes are often built atop former low income housing ("slums").

How about those figure skaters huh?

 

[Deranged Nasat]

Then you're missing the point. Everyone is imperfect, and the only people who can get better are those who are willing to admit their own fallibility and make the effort to improve. People whose pride won't let them accept criticism of themselves as individuals or factions -- or, more importantly, engage in self-criticism -- will never be able to learn from experience and improve themselves. So it's absolutely not about condescension. It's more like therapy -- encouraging people to question themselves in order to help them better themselves and overcome the flaws we all have.

Well, put that way it becomes a lot more palatable. And I agree with pretty much all of this. I for one have always found great value in encouraging self-criticism and self-evaluation. Of course, if you do this as a matter of impulse anyway, isn't it right to also question and critique and evaluate that very behaviour? To examine why you self-examine, and why other people might wish you to?

Unfortunately, I find it all too common that people manipulate our (see, I can do it! ) capacity for self-criticism and self-reflection, using it as another tool in their efforts to maintain or gain status within the group. It's easy to tell the people around you that they're trapped in their assumptions and should change, and for it to be used as a means of guilting people into undermining their own esteem to ensure they're more pliable or responsive to your desires.
Especially when you also act as though that change is difficult or truly impossible.

It's easy to question your own perspectives and beliefs. Publicly questioning other peoples', particularly when they're shared by large groups, is where it gets tricky, isn't it? You don't want to sound judgemental or superior or... well, like exactly what I was suggesting one often does sound like.

I'm sorry if I'm blabbering here.

Regarding the concept of self-improvement (whether the self is an individual or a social grouping), isn't this something that stems from societies where religious perspectives encourage the idea of inherent flaws and the need for self-censure, in contrast to tribal cultures where people are considered inherently good and conscience is constructed through social pressure and a series of consequences?

Absolutely not. Criticism is not the same as censure. There's no shame in making a mistake, because everyone makes mistakes. We're all fallible. But that's not some kind of "original sin" we're forever trapped by, just a common-sense recognition that bettering ourselves takes effort and willingness to learn. The underlying assumption is not that humans are inferior -- on the contrary, it's that humans have the capacity to learn from their mistakes and make themselves and their world better, so long as they're able to recognize the problems and make the effort to solve them. I see that as entirely humanist, not religious.

And again. I like what you're saying. The only problem, I suppose, is that I'm not convinced that the way in which you see and understand this is how many other people see it.

Much as I agree with the general point regarding gradual shifts in perspective rather than sudden cultural epiphanies, I can't personally agree that the current global civilization has learned many lessons from World Wars I and II - at least not the lessons I would have had them learn (to again be annoyingly personal here). If anything, I believe they've become ever more entrenched in the attitudes and instincts that excuse and justify the perspectives and philosophies that allowed those wars to take place.

Except that those perspectives and philosophies have not led to a comparable or greater war in the subsequent 70 years.

Fair enough. Looking at it that way, I can't really argue that there's not been a positive change. I may be looking with too squinty an eye and missing the wood for the trees.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

I think people have such a hard time imagining the amount of cultural and political change that a utopia would require...

Well, I'd say that most people are conservative by nature. Cautious of change. Even their progressive, forward-thinking ideals are often just appeals to existing outlooks or perspectives, only repackaged and sold as something shiny and new (or so I'd claim). Or else are eaten away from the inside when the familiar (the instinctive?) reasserts itself over time.

And yet, as Christopher has argued many a time, you can look at human history and see some rather startling positive changes (positive as I and, I'm assuming, the vast majority of people here, would see it). Shifts in outlook and moral perspectives and a more integrated, worldly approach to things. An upward curve. So I imagine it depends on which angle you're looking from, what criteria you're using. What sort of mood you're in.

We might yet get our vacations in the once-more prosperous and peaceful nation of Afghanistan. I certainly hope so. And Star Trek is a universe that appeals precisely because it sees this as a worthy and, most importantly, achievable goal. We might disagree on how that goal will be achieved, or how difficult it will be, or whether we're talking about the right things in the right way, but that optimism is something I'm sure the vast majority of Trek fans have in common.

 

[Christopher]

Here's a relevant article I just read:

http://io9.com/the-dystopia-of-1984-is-no-longer-relevant-heres-wh-1529808588

It points out that a number of modern states are becoming less inclined to use overt violence and coercion, techniques that garner resistance and rebellion, because they're discovering that it's more potent to use tailored propaganda and subtle manipulation to make people want to support you. Which is still insidious, but it shows a social evolution away from brute force toward subtler, less violent means of persuasion. This doesn't necessarily lead to a freer or more equal world of course; indeed, it could lead to the kind of dystopia where the populace is so deftly manipulated and seduced that we don't even realize we're in a dystopia. But on the other hand, it follows that if the agents of oppression are developing more potent and subtle forms of influence to change people's minds without violence, then the agents of dissent and liberty are capable of doing so as well, thus providing a counterbalance and maintaining a free marketplace of ideas. And if future ideological or class conflicts are waged primarily through politics and propaganda and tailored memes rather than through guns and torture and shock troops, that's still going to constitute an improvement in a lot of ways.

 

[Deranged Nasat]

But on the other hand, it follows that if the agents of oppression are developing more potent and subtle forms of influence to change people's minds without violence, then the agents of dissent and liberty are capable of doing so as well, thus providing a counterbalance and maintaining a free marketplace of ideas. And if future ideological or class conflicts are waged primarily through politics and propaganda and tailored memes rather than through guns and torture and shock troops, that's still going to constitute an improvement in a lot of ways.

Indeed.

A transition away from open conflict towards what Star Wars fans would call "the Bothan Way" certainly strikes me as a positive change, even if a lot of the underlying motives and attitudes remain the same. Far less suffering and misery, and more opportunity to work change or promote discussion.

 

[CorporalCaptain]

One problem in using only acts of violence as your metric of the level of violence in the world is that it doesn't count threats of violence, whether explicit or, especially, implicit. This is one of the criticisms of Pinker's work that I linked to upthread.

 

[Christopher]

Heck, I've believed for years that such subtle influence on people's attitudes is a far more advanced and potent form of manipulation than brute force or threats -- see The Buried Age, Watching the Clock, and Only Superhuman for examples.

 

[Vendikarr]

Since the whole world is now supposed to be pretty much a unified whole in the Star Trek future, I would assume that would mean that all of the countries of the would have gotten over all of the problems they have today.

Absolutely. I think that's been very much the assumption since Day One. There may well be hot spots and border skirmishes and badlands out on the Final Frontier, but I don't think it's ever been implied that there are still impoverished, war-torn regions on Earth.

Hmm. Now I'm tempted to work a reference to Afghan theme parks and luxury resorts into the next book . . . .

Trek's Earth has always seemed like a place where borders are only historically relevant, and humanity's first impulse is to talk about its problems and differences, instead of fighting about them.

 

[Sci]

Hmm. Now I'm tempted to work a reference to Afghan theme parks and luxury resorts into the next book . . . .

And the poor slums on the other side of the fence. At least that's what I immediatedly think of when I hear about luxury resorts. Shut off artificial paradises for rich tourists in poor countries. So for me, that would be the wrong kind of reference.

But in the implicitly socialist world of Star Trek, there is no more poverty -- and therefore no more poor slums on the other side of any fences. So there should be plenty of opportunities for theme parks and resorts without the economic inequality and exploitation we associate with those projects today.