[–] [S] 3 points 1 hour ago

Yes, I think this is part of the same problem.

Talking was always central to Star Trek, but the dialogue used to build the solution. It clarified the ethical problem, the scientific constraints, the risks and the consequences. You understood why a decision was made and what it would cost.

Now, too often, the talking feels detached from the actual mechanics of the crisis. Everyone processes the situation emotionally, then a solution appears, works almost perfectly, and the consequences disappear with the episode.

For me, the issue is not that they talk too much. It is that the reasoning no longer feels structurally connected to the outcome.

Old Trek could spend ten minutes in a briefing room, but by the end of those ten minutes you understood the problem better.

That made the resolution feel earned.

Now it can feel as if the emotional conversation is the resolution. ...

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  • [–] [S] 3 points 1 hour ago (2 children)

    I think we are mixing two different things: consequences in a character’s biography and ethical consequences as part of the storytelling.

    Yes, Picard shows consequences: ageing, Borg trauma, losing his position, conflict with Starfleet. I am not denying that at all. My point is that this is not the same thing as the older Trek habit of stopping and asking:

    Was this action right? Was it proportionate? Did we have the right to do it? What responsibility follows from it?

    That distinction matters.

    Sisko poisoning the Maquis colony is actually a good example of where old Trek itself failed to examine something as deeply as it should have. I can criticise that episode too. I am not claiming every old episode was ethically perfect.

    I am talking about the overall narrative architecture.

    Across TNG, DS9 and Voyager, ethical reasoning was repeatedly built into the story itself. Characters had recognisable moral structures, and those structures were so consistent that in several episodes a change in behaviour was enough for the others — and for us — to realise that someone had been replaced, possessed or manipulated. That level of trust came from coherence.

    That is what I find weaker in Picard.

    Seven can move from a character built around discipline, restraint, logic and moral self-construction to revenge and vigilante violence, without the story really earning that transformation.

    Jurati can kill Maddox while manipulated — and I am not saying she should necessarily have been punished; she might well have been cleared — but older Trek would likely have made the question itself part of the story: coercion, responsibility, guilt, consent, manipulation. Instead the explanation largely replaces the ethical examination.

    And with Picard himself, my objection is not that he is old, traumatised or imperfect. I actually find that potentially interesting. My objection is when his established way of reasoning disappears because the plot needs him to react differently.

    So no, I am not asking for morally perfect characters or consequence-free heroes.

    I am asking for ethical coherence.

    Old Trek could show someone doing the wrong thing. But very often, the fact that it was wrong — and why — was the story.

    That is the difference I am talking about.

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  • [–] [S] 2 points 1 hour ago

    Exactly. And I would go even further: trust in old Trek was not sentimental or naïve. It was the consequence of ethical consistency.

    The writing was so coherent that, in several stories, a character behaving differently was itself enough to suspect that something was wrong — that they had been replaced, possessed or manipulated. The audience knew their moral architecture that well. Certain choices simply would not have belonged to that person.

    That is how strong the character writing was.

    Now characters can suddenly act against values built over years because the plot needs conflict, and we are asked to accept this as “more realistic”.

    I don’t.

    For me, it is weaker writing and a poorer idea of humanity.

    Old Trek imagined trust as something civilisation could actually achieve: people listened, reasoned, shared a problem, challenged each other and still trusted the other person’s integrity. Ethics was not separate from competence — it was part of competence.

    Modern Trek often replaces that with suspicion, trauma, aggression and interpersonal conflict. That may resemble us today, but then what future are we actually imagining?

    If centuries of progress give us better technology but essentially the same ego, distrust and emotional chaos, then the utopian idea has disappeared.

    And perhaps that is the real issue: we have become so accustomed to cynicism that ethical coherence now looks unrealistic.

    To me, that says more about our present than it does about old Star Trek.

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  • [–] [S] 4 points 4 hours ago (1 child)

    That example actually reinforces my point.

    Kevin’s destruction of the Husnock is not presented as acceptable or morally neutral. It is treated as horrifying, and Picard is visibly shaken by the scale of what he has done.

    That is exactly the distinction I am making: old Star Trek absolutely showed people crossing terrible ethical lines, but -->>>the story knew a line had been crossed. The moral consequence was part of the episode.

    My argument is not “old Trek characters were always good."

    It is tha: ethics were part of the narrative structure!!

    A character could fail morally, but the failure itself was examined. That is very different from normalising revenge, violence or ethical compromise as simply another aspect of character development.

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  • [–] [S] 8 points 4 hours ago

    Exactly. For me, Star Trek was never just science fiction. It was always a human question: what could we become if we genuinely chose to become better?

    Even TOS, rough as it was, was already pushing boundaries — putting Uhura, a not only white skin and woman, on the command and imagining a future where that was simply normal. The same principle continued through the franchise: different planets and species were rarely just “aliens”; they reflected real cultures, conflicts, prejudices and political or social problems from our own world, but displaced far enough to let us examine them differently.

    Even the science was treated with unusual discipline. Much of it was speculative, of course, but it was usually extrapolated from real scientific ideas rather than used as random fantasy. The strength of Star Trek was coherence — scientific, cultural, ethical and psychological.

    That is why “look at what we can become” matters so much more to me than “look at what we are.”

    If the future simply reproduces our present cynicism, ego, revenge and moral shortcuts with better technology, then we have advanced technologically, but not as human beings.

    And Star Trek’s most radical idea was always that perhaps we could do both.

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  • [–] [S] 7 points 5 hours ago (1 child)

    Yes sure a lot and a lot.... but Seven is the clearest example for me.

    In Voyager, she repeatedly learns to restrain impulse, revenge and Borg-style utilitarian logic in favour of individual rights and ethical judgement. In Picard, she becomes a vigilante and ultimately kills Bjayzl out of revenge even after Picard explicitly challenges that choice. ... she changed is nto mroe seven of nibe and all the character behind...

    More broadly, Picard normalises extrajudicial violence, revenge and “necessary” moral compromise much more than TNG/Voyager did. My point is not that older Trek never crossed those lines . DS9 absolutely did. The difference is that older Trek usually made crossing the line itself the ethical problem of the story.

    That distinction matters to me: not “nobody ever does wrong”, but the narrative still knows that the means require moral scrutiny.

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  • [–] [S] 9 points 5 hours ago (5 children)

    I don’t think nostalgia is the issue.

    I’m not saying old Star Trek was morally pure. DS9 in particular had characters crossing serious ethical lines. My point is that the line mattered: when someone crossed it, the story examined the moral cost.

    What feels different in Picard is not that it is darker. It is the loss of ethical and character coherence. Too often the characters seem to react as the plot requires, rather than from the moral architecture built around them over decades.

    Seven is the clearest example for me. Of course she should change after twenty years. But moving from discipline, logic, self-control and the struggle to build an ethical individual identity toward revenge and punishment needs a convincing bridge. I don’t see enough of that bridge.

    Old Trek repeatedly asked:

    We can do this — but should we?

    Sometimes the characters answered badly. But the consequences of that answer were part of the story.

    That is what I miss. Not the 1990s. Not old sets. The coherence and the ethics.

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    From Janeway, Picard and Sisko to modern Star Trek: what happened to the ethical future we were once asked to imagine?

    I have been watching Picard, and I am genuinely surprised by how much the ethical structure of Star Trek has changed.

    I am not talking about nostalgia, and I am not saying that characters should remain exactly the same for thirty years.

    I am talking about something much more fundamental.

    TNG, DS9 and Voyager were built around an ethical premise that, for me, was one of the strongest elements of Star Trek:

    THE END DOES NOT JUSTIFY THE MEANS.

    This principle appeared again and again.

    Characters could make mistakes. They could become angry, afraid, traumatised or confused. They could even cross ethical lines.

    But the line existed.

    And when they crossed it, Star Trek stopped and examined what that meant.

    That was the difference.

    The characters did not simply ask:

    Can we do this?

    They asked:

    Do we have the right to do this? What will this choice make us? What responsibility comes with the power we have?

    Voyager is probably the clearest example.

    They were trying to cross an impossible distance to return home. They could have justified almost anything through survival.

    But they did not.

    Again and again they accepted a longer journey, greater risk and personal sacrifice because reaching home could not justify destroying another civilisation, exploiting another species or abandoning the principles they represented.

    That was not weakness.

    That was the entire point.

    Humanity had evolved technologically, but Star Trek proposed that perhaps we could also evolve ethically.

    And this is where I struggle enormously with Picard.

    Picard himself feels fundamentally different.

    The Picard I knew could certainly be wrong, but his reasoning had extraordinary internal coherence. He questioned himself. He debated. He understood that being captain was not simply having authority — it was carrying responsibility for how that authority was used.

    The new Picard often feels reactive, impulsive and strangely ineffective.

    For me, that is not simply “an older and more vulnerable Picard”.

    It changes the architecture of the character.

    And Seven of Nine is even more difficult for me.

    Seven was one of the characters I identified with most.

    Her journey in Voyager was not simply about becoming emotional or “more human”.

    It was about learning how to be human while maintaining discipline, logic and integrity.

    She struggled with identity, belonging and emotion, but what made her extraordinary was precisely her effort not to become governed by impulse.

    She could be wrong. She could be severe. She could misunderstand human behaviour.

    But revenge was never the foundation of the character.

    Her relationship with the Doctor was particularly important because both of them were learning what humanity meant almost from the outside. Their logic often exposed the inconsistencies of ordinary human behaviour.

    Now I find Seven driven by anger, punishment and revenge.

    At times she feels closer to a Klingon archetype than to Seven of Nine.

    For me, this is not character development.

    It is a different character.

    And the change goes beyond Picard and Seven.

    The entire universe feels different.

    The older Star Trek made an extraordinary effort to maintain coherence.

    Character coherence.

    Ethical coherence.

    Political coherence.

    And even scientific coherence, as far as science fiction could reasonably achieve it.

    Of course there were mistakes across hundreds of episodes, but you could feel that the writers cared about the rules of the universe they were creating.

    A decision made years earlier could still matter.

    A species had a culture and internal logic.

    Technology had rules.

    Characters carried the consequences of what they had experienced.

    And most importantly, Star Trek was never simply fantasy in space.

    It was asking something.

    What could humanity become if we improved?

    Not if we became perfect.

    If we improved.

    What would happen if curiosity became stronger than conquest?

    If responsibility became stronger than ego?

    If knowledge created an obligation rather than simply power?

    If we learned that having the ability to do something did not automatically give us the moral right to do it?

    That was what made Star Trek different from ordinary science fiction.

    It was not the Enterprise.

    It was not warp drive.

    It was not aliens.

    It was the idea that the future could contain people who had learned something that we still struggle to understand today.

    I started watching Star Trek when I was around 18, and this philosophy genuinely influenced the way I grew up.

    I saw many things I already believed in expressed in a more evolved society, and it made those principles feel possible rather than naïve.

    Responsibility mattered.

    Integrity mattered.

    The method mattered as much as the result.

    The end did not justify the means.

    DS9 challenged this perhaps more

    1. JANEWAY — Caretaker THE COST OF DOING WHAT IS RIGHT

    “I’m not willing to trade the lives of the Ocampa for our convenience.”

    JANEWAY — CARETAKER 70,000 light-years from home. The easier way home would cost someone else their future. She refuses.

    1. PICARD — I, Borg POWER DOES NOT CREATE THE RIGHT TO USE IT

    Caption:

    PICARD — I, BORG He could destroy the enemy that once destroyed him. Having the power does not give him the right.

    1. SISKO — In the Pale Moonlight WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE END DOES JUSTIFY THE MEANS?

    Caption:

    SISKO — IN THE PALE MOONLIGHT He crosses the line — and he wins. The episode is about the moral price of that victory.


    JANEWAY I will sacrifice our advantage rather than sacrifice them.

    PICARD I will not become my enemy in order to defeat him.

    SISKO I crossed the line to save millions — now I have to live with what I became.

    When did Star Trek stop making the moral cost the story — and start treating moral compromise simply as character development?