“These are the voyages of our ‘starship’ enterprise. Its ongoing mission: to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no-one has gone before!”
Creating A Future History
Art by CoPilot AI
Decades later, the church building is still there, but the adjoining church hall, where Austrek held its first public meetings – forty-nine years ago today – has long since been demolished and replaced with shop fronts. The infrastructure may change, but its echo endures. In this busy street in a northern suburb of Melbourne, traces remain of past times, when a sanctuary for those seeking shelter in the past also offered shelter for those seeking consolation in the future. Of the six main public spaces where Austrek has met over the last five decades, four of them have been church halls, demonstrating the intersection between community spaces and collective belonging.
The World That Was
You may be old enough to remember a world before the digital age, when connection meant conversation, not clicks. This was a world without the Internet, mobile phones or streaming services. No instant communication or digital information. If you wanted social media, you went out and met others in real life. Instead of googling, you read a book, or headed to the library to consult encyclopaedias.
For news, you relied on the evening TV news bulletin or picked up a newspaper, knowing that the headlines were already at least a day old. I recall the Apollo 13 Moon mission, when the front page of a Melbourne newspaper was overprinted with a daily 3am “Stop Press” notice in red ink – an otherwise unthinkable notion for something as inviolate and sacrosanct as a newspaper. These were our closest to instant communication and worldly wisdom: many Star Trek fans collected scrap books full of news clippings like they were collecting holy relics.
These were the times before streaming and YouTube, before DVDs and videocassettes – even before modern marketing made copyright issues ubiquitous and inviolate. Fans of TV programs took recordings of their favourite programs on audio cassettes, for their own personal use, and replayed them endlessly until they were word perfect on the script. They photographed their favourite shows off the TV screen. Decades before mobile phones and their inbuilt cameras, photography was more of an effort and an art. Commercial photos and souvenirs were largely unavailable.
Fandom Begins with Persistence
Photos required patience: you bought a roll of film, used a camera, then handed the film over to the local pharmacy, waiting a week for your memories to be developed and printed.
In my tweens during the early 1970s, my rapt attendance at a local movie theatre to watch 2001: A Space Odyssey while university-aged couples necked, led to my attending the theatre one weekend with my pocket camera and some rolls of film so I could take photos of the spaceships. After snap-snap-snapping during the movie, I took my rolls of film to my local pharmacy and impatiently waited the obligatory week for my photos to return. I was disappointed to find that – due to the darkness within the theatre – none of my photos had come out. The pharmacist felt sorry for me and gave me a free roll of film.
“Two rolls of film, one bruised ego, and a carry bag of flash cubes — proof that fandom begins with persistence.”
Undeterred, I returned the following weekend with my camera, more rolls of film, and a carry bag full of flash cubes — determined to photograph the wondrous spaceships. This time, my attempts at photography – flashes and all – caused consternation, likely misunderstandings, and mayhem in the theatre. After surviving being nearly strangled by local university-aged boys in the audience (their girlfriends told them to “leave the boy alone”), I finished my photos and once again (rather smugly this time) presented my films to the pharmacy, waiting another agonising week — only to find that these photos had also not come out. I explained what had happened to the pharmacist, and this time he sternly told me off.
Sadly, I gave up any further attempts to photograph these filmic images — only to joyously find later that the Space Age Bookshop in Melbourne was selling slides of these exact same fictional spaceships. My amateur and failed attempts to deepen my connection with my interest in things science fictional were finally starting to be anticipated and met by rudimentary professional marketing enterprises.
Phones of that era were firmly fixed on walls or situated on shelves. Wireless phones only existed in SF programs. Most homes had a single handset connected by wires, and long-distance calls meant booking ahead through an operator. If you were out and about, you found a TARDIS-shaped phone booth on a street corner and dialled home.
Phone booths were great places to shelter from the harsh weather as you made private calls to friends that you dared not make at home (on the family phone in the living room). They were also great places for Clark Kent to change into his Superman underwear – and those phone directories! In the days before modern privacy laws, these phone books comprised hundreds of pages containing the names, addresses and phone numbers of many thousands of people; I knew fans who had fun skimming through the directory pages to find the names of their favourite fictional characters – not to ring them, of course, but just because it was fun to see fictitious names in print in the “real” world.
This was the world a generation ago: awed by the space age and watching men walking on the Moon, but still stuck in an era before space age technology had trickled down to the everyday. It would take another twenty years before the Internet or mobile phones started making public appearances, another decade after that before home computers brought the Internet into our homes, and another two decades again before AI became commonplace.
Television in those days was a box in your living room, connected to small rabbit-ears antennae that sat on top of your TV set, or connected via wires to an antenna on your roof. Reception was limited to a handful of local TV stations that were accessible via your antenna; and if you wanted to watch a TV program, you were totally reliant upon the whims of the programmers at those local TV stations. In the days before streaming or DVDs or videotapes, when your favourite TV show was taken off the air, you had no guarantee that you would ever see it again. (And if you wanted to see a movie, go to a movie theatre).
And then, as if someone flipped a switch, the future began to arrive… not all at once, but in colour.
Future Echoes
On 1 March 1975, Australia officially turned on colour television – although colour test transmissions had commenced some months beforehand, hinting at a rainbow of multicoloured diversity in our formerly monotone black-and-white TV services. In those early days of colour TV, the colour palette was turned up high, so everything appeared almost fluorescent. This was especially breathtaking, for example, when seeing that cricket matches were played on the MCG grass field that was blindingly green.
“The [television] sets cost more than $1,000, the equivalent of approximately $8,800 in today’s money. The many who could not afford to upgrade their sets continued to watch in black and white.”
As a result of colour TV, local stations pulled many old programs out of their archives and repeated them – now in living colour. Star Trek was one of these programs, airing in a G-rated (suitable for children) timeslot for about three months on Saturday afternoons.. maybe fifteen episodes. For nerdy SF-starved teens, it was wondrous.
I remember sitting around the dining table for our family’s traditional Saturday evening dinner, and at my pleading they allowed me to have the television turned on so I could watch while we ate. Upon hearing the opening narration: “Space: The Final Frontier…” my father laughed and commented that space was the infinite frontier. Having been suitably chastened for the gall to watch television during family tea-time, I was allowed to watch the rest of the episode without critical commentary, although I was compelled to ignore my mother and sisters rolling their eyes in patronising amusement. Within my 14 year-old brain, I felt the thrill of space-age adventure mixed with deference to a nostalgic program that dated from the Apollo space era. I was hooked. Over subsequent weeks, in between the TV episodes on Saturday afternoons, I turned to reading Star Trek books, especially when the series was withdrawn from that timeslot, and later appeared in erratic late night “graveyard shift” timeslots.
This was an era when Australian Star Trek viewers were totally dependent upon the whims of Channel 9 programmers – who took the show on and off, often late at night. I even recall late night viewing of one episode, “Amok Time”, containing a scene in which Kirk and Spock face off against each other, ready to fight to the death. Snip! A Channel 9 film editor suddenly cuts out the subsequent five minutes of action – and Kirk went from standing courageously to lying apparently dead in front of Spock. As I sat there stupefied and puzzled, the reason for this edit suddenly became clear: the scene was ended quickly, in order to make way for another five minutes of advertising Saba and Franco Cozzo furniture.
Fans became frantic for more Star Trek, a hunger which Channel 9 seemed reluctant to satiate, despite our phone calls, letters and petitions (I recall being told by one Channel Nine Programming Manager that they had enough problems in their workplace without having to worry about giving fans what they wanted). Into this vacuum stepped a local film theatre manager.
A portion of a Ritz theatre flyer, with the bottom half of the page advertising the first Star Trek Marathon on 27 November 1976
Bob Johnston was a local film enthusiast who had collected many films and ran a small theatre – the Ritz – in a hired theatrette in Errol Street, North Melbourne (his Sydney operations were likewise run out of ANZAC House). Out of curiosity, he threw a couple Star Trek episodes into a theatre night, and the audience response was so positive that he decided to run a Star Trek Marathon featuring Star Trek episodes running “from dusk ’til dawn”, and for the first time ever, he had to open the theatrette balcony in order to accommodate the audience. Naturally, this meant that the Marathons became a regular feature in both his Melbourne and Sydney theatres.
My teenager friends and I were already running an amateur student science club, the Melbourne Amateur Science Club (MASC), and we excitedly attended this first Star Trek Marathon. We even took some photocopied flyers advertising Austrek (a subsection of MASC), and these were snapped up by Marathon audience members and caused us to be overwhelmed with immediate sign-ups for new memberships (an annual membership initially costing $1, although postage costs for our newsletter forced us to quickly increase that to $2.50). We quickly concluded that we did not have the resources to run both our school children’s science club and the fledgling Austrek (which in one night had received more enthusiastic memberships than MASC had received in its years of operation), so we closed down MASC and dedicated our limited teenage time and efforts to Austrek. That first Star Trek Marathon on 27 November 1976 was retrospectively assigned as being the date of our club’s public launch. We even met a lovely young lady, a school teacher named Diane, who encouraged us to run our new club.
Science fiction fans have traditionally been voracious readers, and local fans were no exception. Concurrent to the aforementioned media activities, we had previously sought Star Trek-related material via a scarce number of books. British author James Blish had novelised the Star Trek episodes, and US author Alan Dean Foster had done the same for the Star Trek animated series. Beyond that, such books were rare. We started watching Star Trek on TV, fell in love with its magic, and scoured bookshops for more.
There were two books that particularly made a difference in the early club. Star Trek Lives! introduced us to the concept of fan clubs and fandom. We learned that there were others like us: keen and enthusiastic for Star Trek and space age excitement; running fan clubs and conventions; writing fan fiction and publishing fanzines. This book had probably helped inspire us to start Austrek as a sub-section of our humble little schoolkids science club, MASC, and begin to consider expanding that subsection into something more (the Star Trek Marathons helped that option take off like a rocket).
The second book to impact our lives was I Am Not Spock, an autobiographical account by actor Leonard Nimoy. He complained that any time anyone wrote a letter and addressed the envelope to “Mr Spock, Hollywood, California”, the Post Office delivered it to him. Encouraged by this, we did something that I would now recommend that nobody ever do: we wrote to him using that very method. Dozens of us signed a letter asking if we could officially start a Star Trek fan club, and we posted it with teenaged-sized bravery, wondering if we would ever get a reply. To our surprise, we did – but not from the man himself.
It turns out that there was an organisation called the Star Trek Welcommittee (STW) – a Star Trek volunteer-based information exchange network, based in the USA. In the days before the digital communications, they wrote a snail mail reply to us, recommending that we contact a mysterious “D. Marchant” who lived in Melbourne (but in far-away Mordialloc, a southern suburb – too far for us to visit in the days before we were old enough to own or drive our own cars). With some fear and trembling, I dialled my home phone’s rotary dial and called this mysterious “D. Marchant”. To my astonishment, my new friend – Diane from the Star Trek Marathons – answered the phone. It turned out that she was the world STW representative for every country outside the USA.
Diane mentored, encouraged and assisted us with everything from contacting local fans, to posting out our first real newsletter (she donated the stamps for us to afford the postage costs). It was full-steam ahead.
A portion of page 1 of the first Captain’s Log
The following months were a mix of frantic and exciting, especially balancing schoolwork and homework against building Austrek infrastructure. We published our first Austrek newsletter, titled Trekkie Talk, and then changed the name after Diane gently explained how the word “trekkie” was seen as a negative by many Star Trek fans at that time; leading to the newsletter being relaunched as The Captain’s Log.
Our first public meeting took place in the abovementioned church hall in Fairfield on 27 February 1977. The pastor was annoyed when I asked for a receipt for the hall hire cost: the princely sum of five dollars. He hand-wrote a receipt, making sure to exaggerate the receipt number as #1 (the 1 being preceded by a ridiculous number of zeroes) as his gentle protest.
The meeting was attended by Diane and her mother Jessie, by many of the teenage club members, and a mix of new members who had joined since the first Marathon. One teenage boy dressed as Darth Vader, managing to go to the milk bar next to the church and trying to buy a Star Wars icy pole, getting flustered, and tripping over the Twisties stand. But our youth and enthusiasm were infectious: our club sped ahead into new activities over the coming months, not being held back by wisdom or caution. We had never tried anything before, and we had no idea what was possible or impossible, so we generally went ahead and did it anyway. Any time we had an idea, we anticipated the later Star Trek mantra of Make It So, and we did. Our human adventure was just beginning.
Early Austrek logo
Austrek has organised many activities: including club meetings, car rallies, birthday parties, weddings, Christmas events, weekend events at private homes, New Year’s Day events, trivial pursuit nights, camps, fan fiction, fanzines, newsletters, collating parties, conventions, fan films, art displays, costume competitions,’courts martial’ and ‘ambassadors’ banquets’ and other cosplay events, formal debates, letter campaigns to help NASA or medical causes, charities, banquets, movie nights, sold out theatre bookings for virtually every Star Trek movie premiere, museum displays, filk songs, radio programs, Moomba floats, media interviews, medical and personal interventions, picnics to Hanging Rock, merchandise including T-shirts and cups and stickers and playing cards and lanyards, contributions to books and magazines, assisting the start of many other SF media clubs, assisting fan authors and fan artists to become professionals, providing a welcoming sanctuary for many people facing issues of diversity, isolation and difference, introducing women to science fiction and science fiction to women… the sky was our limit. Whether creative activities borne of need in the early days to find more Star Trek inspiration amidst the cultural desert; or more recent consumerist activities to accommodate the wide range of franchise material now available, the club has learnt and adapted to suit changing commercial and copyright and cultural interests.
As for me, I will never forget the many people who have told me (over the last five decades) how Austrek literally saved their lives by providing supportive social networks.
We may not have changed the world overnight, but we have changed it one life at a time. After half a century, our journey – our legacy – continues.
And the rest is history.
“Starfleet was founded to seek out new life. Well, there it sits.”
– Picard, Measure of A Man, Star Trek: The Next Generation.
‘Star Trek’ was an attempt to say humanity will reach maturity and wisdom on the day that it begins not just to tolerate but take a special delight in differences in ideas and differences in lifeforms.”
– Gene Roddenberry
When Star Trek VI came out in 1991, its background story echoed the contemporaneous collapse of the Soviet Union and the rise of Glasnost. Fans and critics alike praised the movie for its courage to be edgy and unafraid to explore contemporary social issues. A generation later, a small faction of fan critics for the newest Star Trek series (Starfleet Academy) complain about its wokeness, and they demonstrate a fear of the social evolution and change to which it appears to allude.
What I want to explore here is this attitudinal change as an example of populist cultural collapse that is currently underway in the United States of America and some other parts of the western world.
Star Trek – Back to School
I will be honest: for all the obvious reasons, I have not yet seen the three episodes of Starfleet Academy that have been shown publicly. I am unable to comment on the show itself, nor provide a valid critique. I do believe that much of Star Trek since the reboot films (2009 – 2016) has been somewhat deficient because it often comes across as poor science and poor fiction – just generally sub-par writing (I am glad to say that many Star Trek fans disagree with me – and each other – and have energetic debates about this material). In all fairness, I will withhold airing my personal opinion of the new Starfleet Academy series until after I actually get to watch it.
The problem is that some fans appear to reject the new material outright – not primarily because of anything related to the perceived quality of the writing, but because these fans appear unwilling or unable to cope with new characterisations of sexuality, gender or gender identity, race and social evolution. I saw the same thing happen in 2017, when Doctor Who was recast as a woman; then again when a queer Rwandan-Scottish actor played the part. Many fans went hysterical. Straight white men proclaimed that they were suddenly being victimised and excluded; as though their previous fifty years of privilege had mysteriously disappeared. Similarly, when Star Trek Discovery first appeared on television that same year (2017), some fans bewailed the appearance of strong, non-white women; and a mixed-race gay male couple. Once again these armchair warriors wailed, “Why are straight white men being excluded”? Overall, they came across as a bunch of Sad Puppies.
Most recently, the idea of a new Star Trek series featuring a young cast in Starfleet Academy – possibly analogous to young people entering college (university) and for the first time leaving home, becoming independent adults, exploring their new surroundings and friendships and a mix of strange, new cultures – seems inspiring and fresh and potentially exciting. They live in a world 1000 years from now, where alien cultures (formerly enemies) have evidently reconciled and interbred; where new societal norms have swept aside old prejudices and bigotries. What could possibly go wrong?
“Star Trek” has always touted its desire to explore strange new worlds; what “Starfleet Academy” supposes is, what if college is the strangest world of all?”
– Clint Worthington
Recontextualising material to suit the romance literature market or the youth/teen market is not necessarily problematic. How many people complained back in the 12th century, when Arthurian stories were rebooted as medieval romance literature, changing Camelot forever from Dark Age “fall of the Roman Empire” mythology to romantic medieval chivalric code? How many Shakespeare fans have ever complained that the Bard himself rewrote earlier story versions of Romeo and Juliet, plagiarising it as fan fiction and adding extra depth of teen romance angst? Star Trek itself was rescued from being a failed television series in the late 1960s, recast as a multi-billion dollar franchise, in no small part because predominantly female fans (many of them being teens or post-teens) rewrote the material into thousands of fan fiction stories featuring “slash” material (same sex romance between Kirk and Spock).
Literature evolves to fit changing cultural norms and consumer demand. Star Trek will undoubtedly remain a science fiction franchise, but its stories must continue to follow the code of social evolution: adapt or die. In fitting with its long-time policy of incorporating “Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations”, it will continue to fulfil the vision of creator Gene Roddenberry that diversity should not just be tolerated – it should be celebrated. Bring on Starfleet Academy, youth culture and all.
Accordingly, I heartily recommend you seek out mainstream reviews of the series – most of which are balanced, rational, fair, and celebratory of diversity.
There are also reviews on social media, some of them extremely critical, such as this one, who complains at 17:30 that men apparently aren’t getting a fair representation (really, after nearly 60 years of male-dominated franchise?); and this one (who tries to rationally debate the criticisms of others about “wokeness”); and this one (who also complains about male representation) – perhaps no surprise that all of these reviews are created by men. But they do make an effort to analyse the material critically and fairly, and their comments align with fan comments I have heard about the soap opera nature of this program: a Dawson’s Creek or CW in space, with a ship that should be labelled NCC-90210.
I do not have a problem with fan reviews that express dislike of obsessive youth culture or other story elements – please wait until I see the material for myself and we can have a wonderful debate about the undoubted strengths and weaknesses of the script material – but my problem is with those fan critics who barely touch upon literary criticism and instead bewail the wrongs (real or imagined) inflicted upon them by woke warriors.
Stories can be freely criticised as being weak or garbage – but characters, and the existence of the minority groups they represent, should not.
Gay Klingons And Other Catastrophes To Befall Humanity
One British fan critic begins his review, “Window Lickers in Spaaaaaaaace!! ” with an attempt to analyse what he sees as the shortcomings of the material, although his references to the show as a “bowel movement” (0:03) and “science retardation” (4:03) suggest that his analysis is an emotional as much as a literary response. He continues to refer to “retards” (eg. 18:20) even makes a vague reference that appears to invoke (or it is to satirise?) Trump racism: “Immigrants going to Earth to steal. Wait, is this 2020?” (5:04). He adds a dismissively homophobic comment about characters: “Also, they’re gay. Probably… it’s Kurtsman Trek.” (11: 20).
He later discusses a scene in which a young black man defeats some armed guards (a trope in media science fiction since forever) but suggests that it is an example of inverse racism because the guards are all white (13:02). He even makes a comment mocking gender equality:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I bring to you the flaw in that logic that will stay here until the day everybody dies: Heavy lifting. Where’s the women? Oh, it’s the men. It’s the men doing the heavy lifting. The sexes are equal right up to heavy lifting.” (47:44)
He continues this vein in another review, within which he mocks female body image as portrayed by the show’s “robust women” (3:58 and 8:34), and summarises his criticism of the new series – not with literary analysis of its perceived script weaknesses, but with the following complaint:
“As expected, it has got nothing to do with Star Trek. It is just another far-left ideological spurge that takes a brand, a franchise name, and just puts its own messaging and inclusion and diversity into it.”(0:14)
The Vulcan “IDIC” symbol from Star Trek, representing Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.
He chooses to forget that Star Trek has always aspired towards (but did not always achieve) inclusion, and the promotion of, “Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations”. Instead, this critic denies any historic wokeness in the franchise, dismissing such claims as, “absolute, utter bullshit” (7:17). His perspective can be further seen in his tendency to dismiss those with whom he disagrees as simply having Trump Derangement Syndrome, or to disparage the physique of men on the show (conveniently forgetting that Star Trek used to shamelessly demean women as sex objects): “Is it rules for thee, but not for me?” (4:30).
His extremist conservative nature can be intuited when he complains that people from the planet Cheron should be extinct (because the original Star Trek series revealed that last two survivors from that planet had both been male) and yet descendants have apparently been shown in this newest series, set a thousand years later. The reappearance of such people – once shown to lead to their own potential extinction because of racist hatred – could fictionally and metaphorically demonstrate that even the most doomed of intolerant characters might somehow survive and grow. Appearing to overlook this symbolism, and ignoring obvious scientific and scientifictional possibilities surrounding this situation – including time travel to rescue other inhabitants, genetic engineering, alternative universes or timelines, or just simply more survivors later being found somewhere across the galaxy (any of these possibilities providing the possible basis for a background story in any episode) – this critic chooses a homophobic rant instead:
“So unless the show is insinuating that the only last two remaining Cheron males managed to bum themselves a whole new population, then this race should be extinct. But actually thinking about what I just said and the people that are running Star Trek nowadays, I probably think that they feel that that’s a viable thing that they could do. “(3:30)
Viewers might be forgiven for wondering whether this gentleman is really simply whingeing that conservative, straight white guys – for most of the last fifty years having enjoyed privileged status in the franchise – are now finding the portrayal of equality with others to somehow threaten their privilege? (see for example 9:26) Ironically, he projects his own narrow perspective onto those people whom he criticises:
“[This new Star Trek] represents a broken bubble, a broken shell of comic Californian wankers who think the world revolves around them… it doesn’t represent Star Trek and it certainly doesn’t represent humanity and people…” (16:47)
Really? So a series that portrays diversity and new forms of inclusion – new species, new characters descended from a mix of races previously portrayed as enemies, characters who break out of stereotypes and boldly explore a strange new world that they are creating… these people don’t represent the highest aspirations of a utopian future?
Lesbians with Cats?
Jones and Ripley in Alien (Wikipedia image)
Another male fan critic spends very little time actually analysing the story and most of his time complaining about the “woke chain” (4:35) and a “lesbian relationship” (4:58) and “the gay Klingon” (5:02) and “the woke degenerate crazy thing” (5:07) and “the feminism” (7:02) and “a bunch of retards just running around” (10:43) and bewailing the possibility that viewers might (shock! Horror!) be forced to watch “the lesbians going at it… full tilt” (10:58), He complains about the injustice of a changing room scene where the men are somewhat unclothed while the women are not – implying that the men are victims of exploitation by Hollywood and suggesting that sexual harassment lawsuits may be on the way (conveniently forgetting Star Trek’s long tradition of sexually exploiting female bodies over the last half century). He even manages to refer to polyamory as “degenerate stuff” (13:00) and praise one episode ever-so-slightly because “at least it wasn’t gay” (15:32) while expressing relief that he wasn’t forced to endure a lesbian romance scene (15:55).
He repeatedly refers to Star Trek writers as 40 year-old women who sip wine and have cats, blaming them for both promoting lesbianism and for the gratuitous male nudity (without seeing any irony in the paradox of allegedly promoting both at the same time); thereby managing to mix his misogyny and homophobia together while also insinuating that the franchise needs straight white guys like him to mansplain non-degenerate perspectives to delusional woke lefties.
Queer Cringe
You get the idea: instead of attempting a balanced, rational review like this one or this one, varied reviews are homophobic, reactionary, or otherwise bigoted, like this one or this one (reviewed by a right-wing woman of colour who appears to promote white supremacist racism by blaming immigrants and their children for crime – see 5:00). Even this one, which attempts to present rational analysis, still manages to disparage the gay and lesbian characters, while this one attempts some analysis under the heading of “Star Woke” as though wokeness is itself a negative. Such unbalanced reviews may, ultimately, still be statistically insignificant, but their rise and empowerment is a cause for concern.
Perhaps the ultimate criticism has come from Stephen Miller, Trump’s White House Deputy Chief of Staff; and Nazi sympathiser Elon Musk; who have both criticised Starfleet Academy for being woke. In response, former Star Trek actor Whoopi Goldberg has criticised their comments as deliberate attempts to distract audiences from the state of the world that these men are actively creating:
“Why are you concentrating on a television show when people are being shot and killed, when people are going hungry, when farmers are losing their farms, kids can’t get meals at school? Why are you paying attention to this?”
This is probably Star Trek’s greatest message, as explored by generations of fan fiction writers exploring same sex relationships (known as “slash”) and other progressive concepts, and other fan activists promoting charity and change: taking Star Trek ideals and “making it so”. Detractors want to return to earlier times and use it as a distraction rather than as inspiration.
Loving the poorly educated
As people who allegedly align themselves with an ongoing franchise (that must, like all literature, adapt to the times or die), they seem remarkably devoid of understanding or empathy regarding inclusion and diversity, or of understanding disadvantage and disempowerment; instead inverting the Star Trek trope of “The needs of the one [themselves] outweigh the needs of the few… or the many [others, especially disempowered or disadvantaged groups]”. They resist the impulse towards self-education through asking questions and accommodating change; they instead prefer past times or privilege and inequality, yearning for past attitudes within which they feel most comfortable.
In doing this, they display the perspectives of extremists such as white Christian nationalists, who perceive the world and culture through a narrow fish-eyed lens:
“Rooted in a long history of American exceptionalism, it fuses white identity politics with a specific brand of fundamentalist Protestant Christianity to create a racist form of a national identity.”
Similarly, these so-called fans, who deny (or disparage as “woke”) the inadequate but sincere attempts at historic progressive inclusion within this franchise, are happy to rewrite or reinterpret the franchise in order to exclude those whom they hate. Some demonstrate a celebratory mood at news that the series may be cancelled early due to their efforts; one fan comment suggests that they would rather see the franchise die than be woke. Thus they take a franchise that seeks to promote utopian ideals, and drag it – and our world – backwards to more regressive values.
Trump and Tradition
While some may see the USA’s cultural and political turmoil as being caused by Trump and his regime, I see Trump as a symptom of a larger malaise. Swathes of US citizens actively deny and oppose their nation’s advances in vaccine and epidemiology, and scientific advances such as the 1960s space program that triggered history’s greatest technological peacetime advances. Moon landings – and their fictional counterparts, Starfleet Academy – are rejected by those who seek to deny the potential greatness and aspirations of their own country and culture; they seek to rewrite history and culture to suit their personal perspectives – as maybe so do we all. The difference is that their view of knowledge is that ignorance is equivalent to world-class expertise; their cosmos is a metaphoric flat earth instead of a rich tapestry of galactic stars and diverse cultures. Unlike them, I look forward to living long enough to having my values and perspectives challenged and educated by those who follow – that’s the value of being woke rather than asleep.
From cardassians to crucifixion, we see the same call for cultural compliance in populist fundamentalist religion having been hijacked by fascism, just as these Star Trek fans seek to rewrite and reboot their favourite quasi-religious franchise in their own image. They revel in creating division and dissent rather than social cohesion.
They are symptomatic of the potential cultural, scientific, social, educational and economic collapse of an empire:
The Archaeologist lists the decline of social cohesion as one factor creating the fall of empires:
“Social Cohesion: A strong sense of shared identity and purpose is essential for a society to thrive. If social divisions deepen and trust breaks down, a society can become vulnerable to internal conflict.”
Instead, we should view literature as an attempt to unite and contribute to our society and our world, in line with humanist values that include an appreciation and involvement in literature and culture:
“We value great works of art, music, literature and architecture regardless of their origin, and respect culturally significant landscapes, geological formations and artifacts. We support their preservation and believe in fair, equitable and culturally sensitive access for all.”
“Leave any bigotry in your quarters. There’s no room for it on the Bridge.
Do I make myself clear?” – Kirk, Balance of Terror (1969)
I grew up watching and loving the original series of Star Trek, which boasted a progressive attitude in its portrayal of African-Americans during the US Civil Rights era. I recall reading a quote from one African-American actor, who later recalled how powerful was the impact of his character, a visiting Black Starfleet Commodore, to whom the white hero James Kirk deferred and called “sir” in an an era where civil rights activists were being murdered in real life. In one episode, racial hatred was even shown as potentially destroying a planetary civilisation (the aforementioned Cheron). Star Trek tried its best within the limits of its commercial constraints for the time, even (wrongly) boasting of featuring television’s first interracial kiss (that kiss is problematic for many reasons) – although the appearance of an African-American woman on the Bridge was certainly groundbreaking for this same era.
Star Trek didn’t get everything right, particularly its early portrayals of women, and its exclusion of LGBT+ characters, but encouraged by its largely female fandom (fully inclusive of LGBT+ and neurodivergent fans) Star Trek evolved with the times, always implying the equality it frequently failed to show. So although I understand why some modern fans bewail the appearance of sexualities or racial realities that previously were never shown – only implied – I do think they need to understand the spirit of the series as much as its stories. Was Star Trek ever woke? Hell yes, ever since 1964.
Whether or not Starfleet Academy is great literature or a great disappointment, it deserves in-depth analysis and appreciation of its values, aspirations and its potential to inspire. Straight white men have enjoyed more than their fair share of representation in the franchise for sixty years; it is time for us all to explore strange new worlds and seek out new life – learning about these others and glimpsing who we ourselves might become as an inclusive species in the future. Gay Klingons, married lesbians, and strong women should be celebrated, not dismissed as evil or deviant or disgusting because some timid people fear what is outside of their traditional life experiences. Those fans who disparage this series because of personality politics have themselves failed the Starfleet Academy entrance exam. They are free to ignore the series and enjoy other literature – or to quote Bob Dylan:
“Your old road is rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one if you can’t lend your hand
For the times, they are a-changin’.”
– Bob Dylan
Inclusion is for Everyone
This does not mean we should reject these problematic fans outright: one cure for White Christian Nationalism or other forms of cognitively dissonant extremism is providing a safe space for such people after they face their own disillusionment, disengagement and deradicalisation:
“Hospitality communicates ‘You are welcome here.’ When a person is ready to leave American Christian nationalism, they need a place to land, a genuine community of safe, loving people.”
Starfleet Academy is a victim of its times: an exploration of the future being opposed by luddites and reactionaries. If it has offended those who resist change, and enables them to ultimately question and grow, then it will have done its job. Otherwise, the fan critics who disparage the material are guilty of seeking to revisit and enshrine old times and old attitudes, to divide and destroy our social fabric, and to destroy our opportunities to grow as individuals and as a collective. They are the opposite of traditional fandom, where fans used slash and other diversity to promote a healthy culture of life and growth; these people today promote cultural stagnation and death. Such is symptomatic of a country and a culture that seeks to drag humanity backwards; to “make great again” a mythical concept marrying white elitism, heterosexism, misogyny, racism, authoritarianism and social regression – and even fascism. Star Trek and the future of humanity demand more. It is up to the rest of us to bring these people back from the edge.
One of my efforts in past years was helping to start a Star Trek club. Although it officially celebrates its fiftieth birthday next year (2026), many of its foundations were laid the year before… fifty years ago this year.
Over the last half century, people have thanked me for founding a club that, in their own words, literally saved their lives. It gave them networks of support, extended families, and lifelong friends and partners. I remember fans rallying to secure medical care that saved a young woman’s eyesight. I joined letter campaigns advocating for the space shuttle and for medical research funding. Clubs and individuals supported annual telethons and charities for cancer, multiple sclerosis, cystic fibrosis, animals, a children’s hospital, and homelessness. Conventions continue to run auctions for charity.
These communities also organized care networks for those on the spectrum, LGBTQ+ individuals, and people living with disability; decades before diversity, equity, inclusion, or multiculturalism became mainstream. Inspired by the principles of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations and Let Me Help, they formed living communities that reflected the utopian ideals that first inspired them. I look forward to more charity as a practical expression of the difference that fandom can make.
Before modern fandom became a constellation of hashtags and conventions, it was a quiet network of zines passed hand to hand, club meetings in school rooms or church halls. Long before social media allowed modern forms of networking, fans were organizing by snail mail to achieve justice: raising funds for disaster relief, publishing charitable anthologies, and responding to global crises with speed and compassion.
What follows is a necessarily incomplete list of fandoms and activism, dating back longer than we imagine.
Before Fandom Had a Name
Art by Copilot AI
Before fandom revolved around cosplaying Hercules, Loki and Thor, it revolved around cosplaying earlier incarnations of Hercules, Loki and Thor. Ancient cultures didn’t gather around franchises or conventions; they gathered around legends. From the cult of Osiris in Egypt to the Epic of Gilgamesh in Mesopotamia, stories were not just told, but reenacted in festivals, temples, and seasonal ceremonies.
These early fandoms built identity around shared stories:
Egypt (c. 2500 BCE): The cult of Osiris held annual festivals reenacting his death and rebirth. They included public grain distribution and burial rites for the poor, especially during the Khoiak festival. Temples in ancient Egypt served as a focus of community well-being and economy: managing land, storing grain, and hosting festivals. These events included public feasting and burials for the poor, echoing humanitarianism before modern welfare institutions.
Mesopotamia (c. 2100 BCE): The Epic of Gilgamesh circulated across city-states, inspiring temple performances and civic duties. Temples functioned as economic and ceremonial centres: managing grain, hosting seasonal festivals, and offering employment.
Indus Valley (c. 2500–1900 BCE):
Though textual evidence is scarce, archaeological finds in Mohenjo-daro and Harappa suggest community granaries and advanced water systems. These imply coordination and shared resource management, which may have supported seasonal gatherings and celebrations. Such support networks hint at shared care that echoes today’s fandoms.
Shang Dynasty China (c. 1600 BCE):
Ancestor veneration in Shang Dynasty China involved resource pooling. Clans funded burials, elder care, and community feasts. They were built on tradition and kinship.
Medieval Rudimentary Fandom: Ritual, Storytelling, and Benevolence
A morality play unfolds in a castle courtyard, watched by monks, knights, and townsfolk. A Hospitaller knight stands beside a noblewoman, while a bard prepares to recite. The scene evokes medieval forms of fandom, where myth intersected with community care. Its costumes and rolepay were strikingly reminiscent of a modern-day convention. Art by Copilot AI.
Long before fan clubs and ficathons, medieval Europe cultivated early forms of fandom through stories, theatrical performance, and acts of community solidarity.
In the Society for Creative Anachronism, medieval lore is relived. Members cosplay knights, bards, and monarchs drawn from mythic archetypes, reviving the age of chivalry and storytelling. Echoing the guilds of yore, local chapters often host fundraising tournaments and feasts, with charitable efforts documented in outlets like the East Kingdom Gazette, a modern chronicle of pageantry, service, and aid.
Morality Plays as Aid
From the 12th century onward, morality plays like Everyman and The Castle of Perseverance were staged by guilds to raise funds for hospitals, leper houses, and burial societies. These performances were often tied to Corpus Christi festivals, blending religious allegory with civics.
I recall visiting an old UK church many years ago, and reading a medieval honour roll above the doorway that listed ancient community tithes: how many crops or oxen or pennies or hours of volunteer time that each community member had pledged annually to help the poor. Although the list was some centuries old, its documentation of medieval village life was reminiscent (to me) of modern fandom: recording community, documenting their efforts, acknowledging the difference that each individual had made for the collective good. Adjusted for modern times and contexts, this listing could easily pass as an honour roll on a convention website or club newsletter – people acting positively as a reflection of the ethics and inspiration they found in their community stories.
What began as medieval community building now appears at conventions and charity networks.
Chivalric Orders and Story-based Support Systems
Military-monastic orders like the Knights Hospitaller and Order of Saint Lazarus enacted chivalric ideals through organized charity. They provided care for pilgrims, ransomed captives, and operated hospitals across Europe. According to the Catholic University of America Press, the Order of Saint John “sheltered pilgrims, tended to victims of skin diseases, and cared for orphans and the sick.” A discussion on Reddit’s Medieval History forum adds that these orders “were monks as well as knights,” forming a dual role of ritual and service.
Noble Patronage and Literary Devotion
The court of Marie de Champagne, patron of Chrétien de Troyes, helped promote Arthurian myth and the ideal of courtly love. Though not directly linked to charity drives, her court supported religious institutions and civic stability.
As described by the Renaissance English History Podcast, Marie “played a pivotal role in fostering the concept of courtly love,” inspiring iconic works like Lancelot. Meanwhile, World History Edu notes that Chrétien’s romances “reshaped Arthurian legend from historical epic to moral narrative.”
These courts functioned as early forms of fandom.
Early Modern Fandoms: Literary Devotion and Abolitionist Networks
Long before fanfic and filking, fandoms formed around salons, concert halls, and pamphlet presses. Shakespearean societies, Mozart devotees, and abolitionist circles built supportive communities through performance, correspondence, and civic activism.
Shakespeare: By the 18th century, Shakespeare’s works were ritualized in annual festivals, public readings, and theatrical replays. The Shakespeare Club of Stratford-upon-Avon, founded in 1824, organized commemorative events and supported local education and preservation efforts.
Mozart: Devotees of Mozart formed early musical societies that hosted benefit concerts for hospitals, orphanages, and civic causes. The Mozarteum Foundation, established in Salzburg, preserves this legacy while supporting music education and humanitarian outreach.
Abolitionist Networks: Literary fandom promoted moral actions in the 18th and 19th centuries, as readers of Olaudah Equiano, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Frederick Douglass formed correspondence circles, hosted readings, and funded anti-slavery campaigns. These early fandoms used story as blueprint, encouraging adherents to act. The American Memory Project documents how pamphlets, speeches, and serialized narratives became tools of abolitionist organizing.
Fandom’s Historic Heart: A Legacy of Kindness
Long before Luke wielded a lightsaber or Spock raised an eyebrow, Arthur’s Excalibur and Sherlock’s logic were already shaping myth and ethics for millions. From Victorian sleuths to medieval legends, historic fandoms have long inspired acts of organized kindness.
Sherlock Holmes: The First Modern Fandom
Sherlockians formed one of the earliest organized fandoms, and their charitable legacy reflects that. The Baker Street Irregulars, founded in 1934, and its global scion societies have hosted charity dinners, auctions, and literacy drives. The Adventuresses of Sherlock Holmes, founded in the 1960s, challenged gender discrimination, supporting women’s education and literary employment.
In 2013, the Sherlock Holmes Charity Game Bundle raised funds for Children of Ukraine, offering digital Holmes games and donated 100% of proceeds. Sherlockian societies continue to support libraries, literacy programs, and historical preservation, especially in London and New York.
Robin Hood: Myth Versus Real-World Impact
Robin Hood fandom may not gather at conventions, but its mythology has inspired major philanthropic activism. The Robin Hood Foundation, founded in 1988, is one of the largest anti-poverty charities in New York City. Though not a fandom group per se, its name and ideals are explicitly drawn from the credo: “taking from the rich to give to the poor.” It has raised over $3 billion for housing, education, and disaster relief.
The Foundation’s annual Robin Hood Gala is one of the world’s largest single-night fundraisers, featuring performances by artists like Lady Gaga and Beyoncé.
King Arthur: Ritual, Resistance, and Revival
Arthurian fandom is more diffuse, but its mythos has inspired charitable and educational efforts. The Quondam et Futurus Wiki catalogs Arthurian legend and encourages community contributions to preserve mythic heritage. Arthurian societies often support educational charities, medieval studies, and peace-building initiatives, echoing Camelot’s ideals.
Even the Teachers’ Charity Carnival featured in the PBS series Arthur implicitly references how Arthurian ideas promote charitable viewpoints inside children’s media.
Lord of the Rings: Myth into Method
Tolkien fandom has built some of the most robust charitable activism in fandom. The Tolkien Trust, founded in 1977 by Tolkien’s children, supports disaster relief, refugee aid, environmental causes, and education. Major grants have gone to Médecins Sans Frontières, UNICEF, Oxfam, and BirdLife International.
The Tolkien Society (UK) is a registered educational charity that hosts seminars, publishes journals, and supports literacy scholarship. In the US, the Mythopoeic Society, founded in 1967, supports academic work on Tolkien, Lewis, and Williams, and hosts Mythcon, often with charity components.
Tolkien fandom builds real-world opportunities for healing and hope.
Fandom and Charity: From Activism to Zines
Fandom has always been more than escapism. Across decades, fans have organized charity drives, published benefit zines, and built clubs that channel imagination into real-world activism. From AIDS activism in the 1990s to Palestine in the 2020s, these efforts show how storytelling communities become beacons of hope.
AIDS and Fandom
During the height of the AIDS crisis, fandoms rallied to support affected communities. Conventions like Zebracon, Revelcon, and Friscon hosted charity drives for organizations such as the Pediatric AIDS Foundation[Fanlore].
David Gerrold, writer of the shelved Star Trek: TNG script “Blood and Fire” sold the script to raise funds for AIDS Project Los Angeles. (I purchased a copy directly off him at a Melbourne convention in the early 1990s, being one of many fans learning how to put kindness into practice).
U.F.P. Australia, a Star Trek RPG club, raised money for a local PWA centre supporting people with AIDS.
Charity Zines: Several fan-published zines donated proceeds to AIDS-related causes, blending creative expression with activism.
Fanworks also explored AIDS as a theme, especially in slash fiction, reflecting both grief and advocacy.
Gaza Solidarity in Fandom
“Fandom responds — art, fic, and care in the face of crisis. Art by Copilot AI
In response to the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, fandoms launched coordinated charity efforts. The Gotcha for Gaza initiative, begun in June 2024, organized multifandom fundraisers, fic commissions, and charity zines to support aid efforts.
Fans donated to vetted charities and received custom fanworks in return: art, fic, cosplay, and more.
Support came from volunteer creators across fandoms like Tian Guan Ci Fu, Marvel, and Undertale.
Proceeds supported causes such as evacuation aid, medical supplies, feminine hygiene kits, and pet care.
These efforts showed how fandom can respond with speed and creativity to a crisis like Palestine.
Conventions, Fanzines, and Clubs
Beyond crisis response, fandom has long built networks for charity and community:
Conventions: Events like MediaWest*Con and Escapade have hosted charity auctions, raffles, and donation drives, including scholarships.
Clubs: RPG groups, cosplay circles, and fan societies have raised funds for local shelters, libraries, and health clinics.
Fandom as Aid
Fandom’s charitable legacy has enabled fans to create zines that fund survival, auctions that support health clinics, ficathons that turn grief into action.
From the earliest fan clubs supporting cancer telethons to more modern fic commissions funding tsunami relief, fandom has organized; not because they’re asked to, but because their stories have taught them how to care.
These networks often precede institutional response. When disaster strikes, fans are already mobilizing: vetting charities, coordinating creators, and distributing aid.
As fandoms grow more intersectional, their mutual aid expands too: queer fans supporting trans youth shelters, K-pop fans funding flood relief, speculative fiction fans defending literacy and climate justice.
Fans don’t just imagine better worlds; they build them, one story and one donation at a time.
Octavia Butler seeded scholarships for marginalized writers through the Octavia E. Butler Memorial Scholarship, administered by the Carl Brandon Society. Her legacy also lives on through Pasadena City College scholarships for first-generation students, ensuring futures she never lived to see.
Kim Stanley Robinson’s The Ministry for the Future inspired real-world climate policy discourse, including proposals for a carbon coin tied to carbon mitigation. The idea draws from Delton Chen’s Global Carbon Reward initiative, and Robinson describes the novel as a “cognitive map” for post-capitalist futures.
Fandom and LGBTQ+ Charity
Fandom has long been a sanctuary for queer expression, and a launchpad for LGBTQ+ activism. From slash fiction to convention fundraisers, fans have organized to support queer lives, challenge media homophobia, and raise funds for equality. These efforts reflect fandom’s role as both cultural critic and activist.
Zines for Queer Advocacy
Charity Zines: Fan-published zines have raised funds for LGBTQ+ organizations, including Lambda Legal, The Trevor Project, and Trans Lifeline. These often coincide with Pride Month or respond to political flashpoints [Fanlore].
Slash Fandom: Historically, slash zines were sold at conventions with proceeds supporting queer youth shelters and HIV/AIDS clinics.
Conventions and Campaigns
Escapade: A long-running slash convention in California, Escapade has hosted charity auctions supporting LGBTQ+ causes, including local trans support groups and legal aid funds.
LGBT Fans Deserve Better: A fan-led campaign in response to the death of Lexa on The 100 raised over $170,000 for The Trevor Project and other queer charities, while sparking industry-wide conversations about representation.
Digital Solidarity
Online fandoms have mobilized ficathons, art commissions, and livestreams to support LGBTQ+ charities—often in response to anti-trans legislation, media erasure, or community grief. These decentralized efforts turn fandom into a rallying space.
For Lorie: A multifandom ficathon supporting Ovarian cancer research.
Stream for Good: Livestreamers raising funds for LGBTQ+ health and rights.
Embryo Digital: Pride-inspired art commissions supporting akt, a charity for homeless LGBTQ+ youth.
Queer Fandom as Infrastructure
Queer fandom as infrastructure, zines as lifelines and grief-related activism. Art by Copilot AI.
From zines to hashtags, queer fandom has built a moral infrastructure that honors identity, funds survival, and challenges injustice.
LGBT Fans Deserve Better: A fan-led campaign that raised over $170,000 for queer charities after Lexa’s death on The 100.
Britannica on Queer Zines: Zines as tools of civil disobedience and survival during the AIDS crisis.
Centre Pompidou: The political journey of queer zines from underground press to mythic archive.
GlobalGiving: How mutual aid networks support queer survival during crises.
Fandom Forward: Organized Kindness
Modern fandoms are no longer passive audiences. From K-pop’s ARMY to the Harry Potter-inspired Fandom Forward, fans have raised millions for disaster relief, education, healthcare, and human rights.
K-pop’s ARMY: Global Mobilization
BTS’s fanbase, ARMY, has become a philanthropic force. In 2020, fans matched BTS’s $1 million donation to Black Lives Matter in under 24 hours [NPR]. But their activism spans continents and causes:
Food Drives: ARMY Singapore raised funds for Food Bank SG, distributing 136 bundles of food to disadvantaged communities.
Environmental Action: Korean fans adopted whales through WWF in RM’s name, including a Beluga and Narwhal.
Medical Aid: ARMY Peru supported leukemia research; ARMY Russia donated $15,000 to Gift of Life for children with cancer.
Disaster Relief: Fans in Nepal organized nationwide collection points for flood victims.
Fandom Forward: From Hogwarts to Haiti
Founded in 2005 as The Harry Potter Alliance, Fandom Forward turned magical allegory into civic action. Their campaigns tackled genocide, climate change, book bans, and labor rights:
Helping Heal Haiti: After the 2010 earthquake, fans raised $123,000 for Partners in Health, chartering five planes of medical supplies, each named after Harry Potter characters.
Even as Fandom Forward closed its doors in 2024, its legacy lives on in fan-led chapters and campaigns worldwide.
Myth into Method
These fandoms don’t just imagine heroism; they become them. Whether it’s gifting rice in honour of a K-pop idol or defending literacy like Hermione Granger, fans enact the values they admire. Fandom becomes a way to dream forward, together.
Fandom Responds to the Wave: Tsunami Relief and Aid
Fan calendars as humanitarian clocks… aid across Asia. Art by Copilot AI.
When the Indian Ocean tsunami struck on Boxing Day 2004, it wasn’t just governments and NGOs that mobilized. Fandoms responded with speed, creativity, and kindness.
Reach Out to Asia, a charity born from the disaster, auctioned a guitar signed by 19 rock legends (including McCartney, Clapton, and Page) which sold for $2.7 million, effectively transforming a fan artifact into one of the most valuable single humanitarian tools ever wielded.
Anime Detour, a fan convention in Minnesota, redirected its entire 2011 charity auction to the Red Cross for Japan tsunami relief, raising over $36,000. Their charitable fundraising has continued since 2005.
K-pop fandoms in Indonesiaraised nearly $100,000 in 2021 for flood and earthquake victims in South Kalimantan and Sulawesi. These weren’t isolated donations. They have supported Black Lives Matter and criticised political crises.
Fandom for the Planet: Environmental Activism
Environmental activism has become a major focus in fan-led movements, especially in K-pop and speculative fiction communities.
Kpop4Planet, founded by fans of EXO and BTS, campaigns against coal expansion, deforestation, and climate inaction. Their digital petitions and tree-planting drives have reached tens of thousands, proving that fan networks can rival NGOs in reach and impact.
In 2021, Blackpink’s COP26 campaign video urged fans to act on climate change, reaching nearly 60 million subscribers.
Youth 4 Climate Action, a fan-rooted Korean movement, sued their government for climate inaction.
Fandom for the Planet: Global South Perspectives
Global fandom (symbols of care supporting the planet). Art by Copilot AI.
Fandom’s ecological imagination isn’t confined to East Asia or Western speculative fiction. Across Africa and Latin America, fans have mobilized for climate justice with creativity and passion.
Whether through cosplay protests, ficathons for reforestation, or zines that highlight climate justice, fans in the Global South are transforming ecological grief into creative resistance. Their activism is rooted in local storytelling traditions and indigenous cosmologies.
Africa: Climate Justice as Community Ritual
In Kenya, Nigeria, and South Africa, fan-rooted youth movements have joined forces with African Activists for Climate Justice (AACJ). These groups blend pop culture, digital storytelling, and grassroots organizing:
Fan-driven campaigns on platforms like Power to Voices amplify climate narratives using memes, cosplay, and remix culture.
Feminist fandoms in South Africa’s Wild Coast region use zines and fan art to resist environmental damage.
Young Lawyers Initiative (Nigeria) channels fandom’s enthusiasm into activism, training youth to become climate defenders.
Latin America: Resistance
In Colombia, Brazil, and Chile, fandoms have woven climate justice into cultural resistance:
Fan zines and cosplay collectives in São Paulo and Bogotá have staged eco-themed conventions, where panels on climate science sit alongside fanfic readings and art auctions for reforestation.
Living Story as Infrastructure
In Australia, First Nations creators have shaped media that blends Aboriginal lore with speculative futurism. One powerful example is Cienan Muir, a Yorta Yorta, Taungurung, and Ngarrindjeri advocate who founded IndigiNerd, a platform celebrating Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander voices in comics, cosplay, and geek culture. Through IndigiNerd, Muir has created safe spaces for Indigenous youth to explore identity, storytelling, and pop culture without shame. IndigiNerd hosted Australia’s first Indigenous Comic Con, spotlighting First Nations artists and storytellers.
Similarly, the TV series Cleverman, shaped by Indigenous creators including Hunter Page-Lochard, drew from deep cultural wells. Page-Lochard is the son of Bangarra’s former Artistic Director Stephen Page, and his performance connections link to Bangarra Dance Theatre.
The show inspired fan-led support through:
– Cosplay and fan art inspired by culturally grounded design, including the Hairypeople created in collaboration with Indigenous artists
– Educational campaigns on land rights and cultural survival.
Global Constellations
Across the world, Indigenous creators are building story as infrastructure:
– In Aotearoa, Māori artists like Cassie Hart and Whiti Hereaka remix speculative fiction with whakapapa and atua, creating novels and comics rooted in tikanga and ancestral lore
– Sámi creators resist green colonialism and climate injustice through storytelling, opposing projects that threaten land and reindeer herding culture.
– Queer Indigenous fans build zines and ficathons as lifelines—not just art—through collectives like Brown Recluse Zine Distro and LGBTQ Nation.
Roddenberry’s vision: a compassionate federation, where fans become the heroes. Art by Copilot AI
Star Trek and Star Wars, two of the most expansive mythologies of our time, have inspired generations to act with compassion, courage, and collective purpose. Their communities have mobilized for education, inclusion, medical aid, and planetary protection, proving that even galaxies far, far away can shape the world right here.
Although fans might suggest that these franchises focus on different mythologies (utopianism as opposed to good versus evil), both narratives present modern morality plays and promote the ultimate victory of goodness over evil; in turn, encouraging fans to live the dream.
Star Trek: Take the Chair, Make an Impact
In 2024, the Star Trek franchise launched a global charity campaign called Take the Chair, Make an Impact, inviting fans to imagine themselves in the captain’s seat and chart a course toward justice. The campaign partnered with three nonprofits:
Code.org: Promoting computer science education for every K–12 student.
DoSomething.org: Empowering youth-led activism and civic engagement.
Outright International: Advocating for global LGBTIQ equality.
Fans participated through events in Chicago, Berlin, and Vancouver, and 25% of select merchandise sales were donated to these causes.
Star Trek’s ideals (diversity, inclusion, and hope) became not just celebration, but action. Fans didn’t just quote Roddenberry’s vision; they lived it.
Star Wars: Force for Change
Launched in 2014 by Lucasfilm and Disney, Star Wars: Force for Change channels fan energy into global problem-solving. The initiative has supported:
UNICEF: $4.2 million raised for children’s health and education worldwide.
FIRST Robotics: Sponsoring STEM competitions for students globally.
Children’s Hospitals: Mark Hamill and others visiting patients in costume to lift spirits.
Fans have entered sweepstakes to appear in films, bought themed merchandise for charity, and joined campaigns to support refugee relief and youth empowerment.
The 501st Legion: Villains Doing Good
The 501st Legion, a global Star Wars costuming group, has turned stormtrooper armour into a tool for kindness. With over 14,000 members, they’ve supported:
Make-A-Wish Foundation events and hospital visits.
Disaster relief fundraisers and community outreach.
Educational programs and parades promoting inclusion.
Though they dress as villains, their mission is deeply heroic: bringing joy, raising funds, and standing for hope.
Galactic Myth, Earthly Impact
Whether it’s a tricorder or a lightsabre, these fandoms wield symbols that inspire action. Through organized kindness, fans turn myth into motivation.
Time Lords of Kindness: Doctor Who and the Ethics of Aid
While Star Trek and Star Wars offer galactic visions, Doctor Who brings morality closer to home. Its fandom has long blurred the line between fiction and activism.
Charity Anthologies and Zines
Adventures in Lockdown (2020) raised funds for Children in Need, featuring stories by Russell T Davies, Neil Gaiman, and others written during the pandemic.
Time Shadows and Second Nature (2016–2018) supported charities like Enable Community Foundation and LimbForge through fan-edited anthologies.
A Pile of Good Things and The Hybrid zines raised funds for mental health and LGBTQ+ causes, blending character arcs with real-world care.
Conventions and Campaigns
Children in Need Specials have featured Doctor Who cast since the 1980s, including live appearances and donation drives.
Fan clubs and cosplay groups have organized raffles, livestreams, and charity auctions — often timed to regenerations, anniversaries, or season premieres.
Fandoms of Resistance: Babylon 5, Firefly, & Hitchhiker’s Guide
Not every fandom builds vast humanitarian infrastructure, but even quieter communities can spark compassion and kindness. Babylon 5, Firefly, and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy each offer unique stories of activism.
Babylon 5: Quiet Legacy
While Babylon 5 lacks a flagship charity, its concepts of resistance and diplomacy have inspired fan-led actions. Creator J. Michael Straczynski has publicly supported causes like LGBTQ+ rights and mental health, often engaging fans in awareness campaigns. Fan forums and conventions have hosted a memorial fundraiser for cast member Richard Biggs and a tribute video for Andreas Katsulas; this last including a memorial edit requested by his widow featuring her favorite G’Kar quote.
Firefly: Browncoats Doing Good
Aiming to Misbehave. Art by Copilot AI.
Few fandoms have mobilized like Firefly’s. The Can’t Stop the Serenity initiative, founded in 2006, organizes annual charity screenings of Serenity to raise funds for Equality Now. Over $1.3 million has been raised across 124 cities.
Local chapters like the Arizona Browncoats operate as registered nonprofits, supporting community causes through events and merchandise. These efforts echo Firefly’s ideal: “Aim to misbehave… for a good cause.”
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: Quirky but Quiet
Art by Copilot AI
Though less visible, HHGG fandom has flirted with organized kindness. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Foundation was registered in the UK to promote education and communication skills, especially literacy. Its current status is unclear, but the potential remains.
New Stars in the Constellation
Fandom’s humanitarian legacy continues to evolve.
Steven Universe
A fandom rooted in queer empathy and emotional literacy. Fans have supported trans youth shelters, mental health campaigns, and Pride fundraisers.
Like fandoms, the Polynesian Panther Party built emotional and logistical scaffolding through media, myth, and community care. Their posters, zines, and oral histories functioned as acts of resistance. With chapters across New Zealand and Australia, they mirrored fandom’s decentralized structure and lifelong affiliations. As NZ History notes, their motto “Once a Panther, always a Panther” echoes across fandom culture.
Fandoms Beyond Genre: Music, Sport, and Literary Legacy
Not all fandoms orbit speculative worlds. Some rise from stadiums, concert halls, and libraries, yet their networks of care are no less significant. These communities have mobilized for disaster relief, human rights, and planetary stewardship, proving that organized kindness transcends genre.
Music Fandoms Against Gender-Based Violence: During the 16 Days of Activism campaign, UNDP Indonesia hosted a panel titled “Calling Music Fans ‘FANDOM’ to End Gender-Based Violence”. The all-women panel spotlighted how female-led fandoms (especially in K-pop and pop music) have mobilized to challenge gender norms, support survivors, and fund shelters for women and children. Speakers emphasized fandoms as decentralized movements of empathy, often dismissed due to gender bias, yet deeply effective in raising awareness and organizing aid.
K-pop Fandoms (BTS, EXO, Blackpink): Already featured above, but worth reinforcing: K-pop fans have planted forests, funded medical aid, and matched million-dollar donations in under 24 hours.
Taylor Swift / Swifties: Swifties have organized donation drives for LGBTQ+ youth, domestic violence shelters, and education funds, often in response to lyrics, tour dates, or media flashpoints.
Football Fandoms (Liverpool, Celtic, FC Barcelona): Sport fandoms have long histories of humanitarian action. Liverpool fans raised funds for Hillsborough victims and refugee aid. Celtic supporters launched food banks and anti-racism campaigns. FC Barcelona’s foundation supports global education and health initiatives.
Author Fandoms (Pratchett, Gaiman, Le Guin): Fans of Terry Pratchett have raised funds for Alzheimer’s research and literacy programs. Neil Gaiman’s fandom supports refugee aid and LGBTQ+ causes, often through charity anthologies. Ursula K. Le Guin’s readers have mobilized for climate justice and Indigenous rights, echoing her ecological and anarchist themes.
Fandom’s legacy is one story, one fan, one act of kindness at a time.
As for me, I see that Star Trek taught us that the future is not a place we arrive at, it’s something we build together.
From the first zine passed hand to hand to the latest charity auction, fans have embodied Roddenberry’s vision not just in fiction, but in practice.
We raised funds for medical aid, defended LGBTQ+ dignity, and built support networks decades before institutions caught up.
Fanthropology 101: Dreaming and Doing in the Real World
A four-part journey through how fandom helps us imagine better futures, and build them.
Part One: Forgotten Futures How two dreamers imagined a better world, and gave us tools to build it
Published: 8 September 2025 Read Part One
Edward Bellamy and Gene Roddenberry didn’t just write stories, they sketched blueprints for justice, dignity, and shared humanity. Their utopias still shape how fans rehearse better futures.
Part Two: Dream It Forward Why fandom isn’t just fun, it’s how we practice empathy
Published: 4 October 2025 Read Part Two
From Arthurian quests to Star Trek conventions, this chapter shows how fandom helps us rehearse courage, community, and care—turning stories into solidarity, and imagination into action.
Part Three: Fandom’s Humanitarian Legacy How fans built real-world networks of care, long before hashtags and headlines
Published: 25 November 2025 Read Part Three
Ficathons, charity drives, and survivor support groups—this essay documents how fandom became a lifeline for many, offering help where institutions failed.
Part Four: From Fic to Future Fan fiction isn’t just storytelling, it’s ethical and pragmatic life guidance
Published: 31 December 2025 Read Part Four
Honouring Diane Marchant and the legacy of fan creators, this chapter explores how fandom helps us rewrite injustice, rehearse empathy, and build continuity across generations.
My only surviving substantial photo of the club. Some of the MASC club members at a solar eclipse excursion, Beveridge (central Victoria), 23 October 1976. (No, we were NOT looking at the Sun through a telescope, we were using pinhole cameras and other forms of technology to observe the eclipse indirectly.)
I remember this 1976 eclipse. Even the cows in the paddocks around us knew to seek shelter when the sky dimmed, but they returned when the light came back. That day, while the rest of the world was going about its business, we looked up — not just at the eclipse, but at a future that was calling us.
Genesis: From Primary School to the Paddock
They say “show me the child and I’ll show you the adult,” but that’s only half the story…
As children, we sometimes begin something small that echoes across decades, shaping lives in ways we never imagined. I had that chance – or perhaps I created it with friends – and half a century later, I can look back with astonishment at the outcomes.
It all began with a group of free spirits in primary school, role-playing “Thunderbirds” and “Lost in Space” and “H.R. Pufnstuf” while other boys were learning to kick footballs and the girls were playing elastics. While the popular kids were modelling themselves on footballers or beauty pageant queens or whatever gender binary norms were being presented in the 1960s, we looked up to Apollo Moonwalkers, the space family Robinson, and Lady Penelope – bold, confident figures who shaped their worlds. Will Robinson (a child our own age) thrived in alien landscapes, and SHADO’s own Commander Straker built the teams to face them. These weren’t just TV characters. They were our blueprint for adulthood. Later, as an adult, I can see in hindsight that the original club members grew into diverse, independent, self-empowered (sometimes bohemian) agents of their own destiny.
I was jealous of one of the girls – Annie – because she not only had a telescope but she was subscribed to a weekly comic/magazine called “Countdown” that featured graphic art stories of everything from “Thunderbirds” and “UFO” to other British science fiction (which may have inspired one of my earliest efforts at creating a fanzine). I even remember that at the tender age of 10, she filked the song “Blowin’ in the Wind”, rewriting the words to be space-aged:
The answer my friend, is in the vacuum of space
The answer is in the vacuum of space…
My recollection of her song reveals the potential for creativity that we unknowingly captured in those early days. Our gang – our club, simply known as “the club” in those times – would expand and grow as we did. In 1972, the last year of the Apollo Moon landings, we began to develop a fanzine, The Space Age – our own voice.
Drafting the Future
As we drifted off to different high schools, I eventually lost touch with some of those early friends, but made others. Two of my new friends – Peter and Russell – joined the Astronomical Society of Victoria with me in 1973. Becoming inspired by that group’s organisational structure (its general meetings and committee meetings, its Constitution and activities), we decided to remodel our little club to copy this format.
Inspired by the organisation name SHADO (Supreme Headquarters, Alien Defence Organisation) from the early-1970s TV show “UFO”, we named our club CATSMILK (the Celestial and Terrestrial Scientific Melbourne Interplanetary Link Kommission – “yes with a K” – forgive the juvenile idea, we were only 12 years old!) A couple of years later, hitting puberty, we decided that this name was a bit childish, so we renamed it as MASC (the Melbourne Amateur Science Club) and expanded our club membership to around 13 school kids across two or three schools.
The Melbourne Amateur Science Club (MASC) became a more “mainstream” (ie. “respectable”) and informal group of late primary school and lower secondary school students who ran their own science and technology-based activities. Club meetings were held on a rotating basis at private homes.
From 1973 to 1977, MASC published Club News and The Space Age — this latter being our launch-sequence zine inspired by Countdown magazine and named in part-homage to The Age newspaper. Its spirit-duplicated pages, supplemented by parental photocopies, carried our voices into the great unknown. Few copies survive, but the legacy endures.
MASC was composed of a series of subsections, each run by teenager with a particular interest in that field, for example: Physics, Astronomy, Archaeology, Chemistry, Electronics, even including Astrology and UFOlogy (these last two were intended to scientifically investigate these pseudosciences), with aligned subjects including Music and Photography. Each MASC subsection aimed to produce a report for club meetings, or the newsletter or zine.
Ignition: A Fandom Takes Flight
From CATSMILK (also eventually known as CATSMILC) to MASC, our club evolved from backyard experiments to a fandom that shaped lives.
One of our aligned interests — science fiction — quietly inspired the formation of a new subsection that would become Austrek in October 1975, sparked by Star Trek’s return to Australian television with the advent of colour TV. Teachers supported us: Mr D gave us access to duplicating machines, Mr M offered scientific guidance, and David A (who became more than just a teacher, but also a friend and colleague) stayed on as an Austrek member.
After distributing Austrek flyers at the Melbourne Star Trek Marathon in November 1976, the subsection grew so rapidly it absorbed MASC’s limited resources and became a standalone club. From there, the legacy unfolded.
Austrek touched thousands: inspiring careers, forging marriages, and offering community to those who felt alienated. It seeded other clubs, nurtured lifelong friendships, and — long before it was fashionable — embraced diversity, equity, and inclusion as core values.
Most school clubs are teacher-led, curriculum-bound, and short-lived. MASC was none of those things. It was self-organised, cross-disciplinary, and sustained across years and schools. Where most school clubs dissolve with the end of an academic year, ours evolved, absorbed, and ignited.
From Sneakers to Starships
Saint Ignatius of Loyola apparently once said, ‘Show me the child and I’ll show you the adult.’ But in fandom, the child is already the architect: documenting, designing, and dreaming in real time.
While Fanlore and Fancyclopedia trace a broader pattern (teenagers founding clubs, publishing zines, shaping conventions), MASC stood apart for its sustained life, cross-disciplinary visions, and its transformation into Austrek, a fan institution that has contributed to the future. Jin-Shiow Chen reminds us that adolescent authorship is not a phase, but a blueprint. MASC didn’t just imagine a future; it built one – adapted, evolved, but always true to its founding spirit. What began as youthful imagination became lasting reality.
Role-playing Will Robinson on an alien world, or Jimmy on the somewhat fantastical Living Island (home of Pufnstuf), was more than childhood fantasy. It was rehearsal for adulthood in a wondrous world, and it helped a group of schoolkids build something that continues to resonate today. Decades later, the idea remains powerful: dreams can inspire our world and shape the stories still to come.
Sic itur ad astra.
Thus we can journey to the stars — and sometimes, we bring others with us.
Legacy: To Boldly Care
The club didn’t just shape others — it changed my life.
In more than a metaphorical way, I was adopting the heroic qualities I admired in others. I met scientist and explorer astronaut David Scott — commander of Apollo 15 — as a teenager, and later encountered Ed Bishop, the actor who portrayed resilient and determined Commander Straker in UFO. These weren’t just distant icons; they were role models for how I chose to live, lead, and contribute to the community.
Austrek wasn’t just a fandom; it became an extended family. For many of us, it was the first place they felt truly seen, supported, and safe to be themselves. It offered belonging to those who felt alienated, and care to those navigating hardship. Through shared stories, mutual aid, and empowerment to develop their confidence and life skills, Austrek changed lives. It was a sanctuary disguised as a science fiction club.
Even Thunderbirds, with its ethos of rescue and humanitarian action, helped shape my sense of responsibility. The idea that helping others could be a mission — not just a story — stayed with me.
That same spirit of aspiration led me beyond fandom. As well as helping launch Austrek, I volunteered with Amnesty International Australia, where we literally saved lives and helped shape humane laws. After that and most recently, I have worked to assist LGBT+ refugees, some of the most disadvantaged people on Earth.
CATSMILK may be a silly acronym, but it provided sustenance for the growth of ideas that changed lives. The blueprint we drafted as children became a framework for action — not only for others, but also for me.
