The Way We Think of the Collective in Science Fiction is Changing
Photo by Stefan Cosma on Unsplash
In her 1938 novella Anthem, objectivist writer Ayn Rand, horrified by the Soviet Union she fled, imagined a dystopic, collectivized society where even preferences and friendships were frowned upon. This rejection of individuality was so pronounced in this world that the pronoun "I" had left the popular lexicon in favor of "we," "our," and "they."
Rand's work is not unique in its thorough disdain for the collective. Cold War fears of the Soviet Union led to all sorts of demonizations of this kind. The most prominent in the popular imagination is probably the villainous Borg from Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987–1994, "Q Who," Season 2, Episode 16), a hivemind that forcibly integrates other races into their collective, with their catchphrase: "We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own…resistance is futile."
There were many similar examples. The Cybermen from Doctor Who (1963–1989; 2005–present) were a group of former humans turned androids intent on turning all of society into identical versions of themselves. We can also look at the Master from the video game Fallout (1997) trying to create a race of super mutants, the "IT" hivemind in A Wrinkle in Time (1962), and the sameness created by the dystopic society in The Giver (1993). These collective projects are always depicted as the erasure of individuality and often are a terrifying evil that must be fought against at all costs.
However, in recent years, we have seen a shift in the popular conception of how the collective is being portrayed in science fiction. Where once it was an idea of ridicule and fear, it's increasingly being depicted more positively.
The collective as benevolent
Before we discuss more recent changes, it's important to note that counternarratives about the collective have always existed, even if they were not as readily embraced as the critical narratives we have already mentioned. Although constrained by the prejudices of the time, Arthur C. Clarke's novel Childhood's End (1953) concludes with all children becoming a benevolent superintelligence known as the "Over-mind." Arguably, this transformation is not depicted in a menacing way: an evolution that's more bittersweet than evil.
The same can be said with the last two books in Isaac Asimov's Foundation series, Foundation's Edge (1982) and Foundation and Earth (1986), where it's learned that the future of humanity will not be the precise mathematics of psychohistory or the behind-the-scenes meddling of the Second Foundation but led by a planetwide hivemind called Gaia. This superorganism has interconnected all organic and inorganic matter on its surface and is what our protagonist chooses as the default state of humanity.
These depictions run counter to the dystopic Randian conception of "equality" in Anthem that she so despised, but like the Borg and Cybermen, they are still top-down approaches. These collectivist outcomes for humanity are decided as the best course of action by either an outside force, such as the alien Overlords in Childhood's End, or, in the case of the Foundation series, a single individual.
They are not bottom-up movements but rather brought on by a benevolent authoritarianism.
When the collective is framed as one totalizing entity like this, the horror behind people's reactions makes sense. Whether the assimilating superorganism in question is kind or cruel, beings like the Borg and the Over-mind run counter to how we operate as human beings. We are individuals just as much as social creatures, and imposing another will on top of those identities can almost seem like dying. With the Borg and the Cybermen, your body and memories may continue to exist after they assimilate you, but it isn't "you" anymore, and that's terrifying.
Yet it's important to remember that the mere act of coming together doesn't automatically lead to that outcome. There is more to collectives than just the individual or ego death. As we have moved beyond the Cold War period, writers have begun to shift away from the dichotomy of a collective in science fiction being either all good or all bad.
New storytelling has started to depict the joining with other beings as a unique form of existence worth celebrating.
The collective as multi-faceted
Interestingly enough, Star Trek is an excellent example of this. In Star Trek: The Next Generation, three years after the episode that introduced the Borg, Q Who (and in real life, three years after the fall of the Berlin Wall), we are introduced to the Trill, a symbiote-host species where at least two beings merge to permanently create one consciousness ("The Host," Season 4, Episode 23). The joining process between these two beings is not depicted as evil or malicious but simply another type of existence.
By the time we get to Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (1993–1999), these beings are so regular for both the Federation and the viewer that one of our leads, Jadzia Dax (Terry Farrell), is a Trill.
In the cyberpunk film Ghost In The Shell (1995), cybernetics have advanced to the point where human consciousness can leave its body, or “shell,” and interface directly with the Internet. Ghost has become the slang term for consciousness itself, and our protagonist, Major Motoko Kusanagi (Atsuko Tanaka/Mimi Woods), in a process very similar to the Trill, decides to merge her "ghost" with an Artificial Intelligence to create something beyond either of them.
A counterexample of dual consciousness, where two or more entities merge to create something new but do not lose their individual parts, is the cartoon show Steven Universe (2013–2019). Crystalline aliens called Gems can "fuse" with each other to create a new being.
However, these "fusions" do not erase the previous identities. The new form is depicted as an ongoing conversation between the organisms, which, in the case of the fusion Fluorite (Kathleen Fisher), can include many beings. Unlike the Trill, this new existence never subordinates the previous beings, and if consensus is ever broken, one or more can choose to leave. Ruby and Saphire — two gems that make up the fusion Garnet — do this multiple times throughout the show when they encounter disagreements.
The thriller Sense8 (2015–2018) showcases the premise that groups of eight people can telepathically and empathetically be connected through a "cluster." Fellow sensates both maintain and do not maintain individuality. The characters go about their regular days as individual consciousnesses, but at any point, they can talk with each other telepathically and swap feelings, sensations, and abilities.
As viewers, we empathize with the sensates, who are hunted by the individualist humans. The latter fear clusters for the changes they can bring about to human society.
Returning to the Borg, their totalizing image has softened by the time we get to Star Trek: Voyager (1995–2001). Captain Kathryn Janeway (Kate Mulgrew) comes across a group of former Borg in the season three episode "Unity," which provides a more nuanced conversation on the ethics of joining a hive mind. Officer Chakotay (Robert Beltran) disagrees with a Borg "co-operatives" plan, not because it’s a unified intelligence but one created by force.
From Star Trek to the Culture series (1987–2012), we could list many examples that show us this synthesis model, where the merging or joining of consciousness is not force-driven but instead done by consensus.
A new frontier in how we think of the collective.
A collected conclusion
Star Trek: Picard (2020–2023) depicts the Borg even more emphatically. We see many ex-Borgs reintegrating as individuals, and in Season 2, the Borg superorganism itself goes through a cultural transformation when lead Agnes Jurati (Alison Pill) becomes the new Borg Queen. Borg Agnes leads her race not to conquer but, in a surprise twist, to create a society based on cooperation rather than assimilation — a society which petitions to join the Federation.
This recontextualization of the collective is happening all throughout science fiction. As we move away from the totalizing demonizations and praises of the collective that the Soviet Union inspired, our depiction of it has become more nuanced. It’s not always benevolent or evil; it’s often just a new form of being, with all the advantages and pitfalls that entails.
And as we become more comfortable with the collective and shed the atomization of the previous era, how we depict it in our media will continue to evolve.
Let's make it so.