Written by Andrea Biondo
Science fiction is often a mirror to our own universe. Gene Roddenberry’s universe certainly contains plenty of worldly plays and social commentary, allowing us to examine our own prejudices a little more safely from a distance.
One of my favourite examples is the Borg: a cyborg race that showcases the disadvantages, and perhaps even a few advantages, of an alternative state of being — one in which a culture has augmented itself with technology so completely that even the brain is radically changed.
Individuals in this culture do not exactly exist in the way we usually understand them. Rather, they form part of the collective.
Collectivism was a frightening concept to American culture in Roddenberry’s time, largely because it became tangled up with fears about communism. For that reason, it made a suitably terrifying super-antagonist for the series.
Today, in our post-Cold War universe, that connection has faded somewhat, which means we can explore collectivism a little more freely and with a little less McCarthyite panic hovering in the background.
So what is collectivism?
It has a few meanings, but the one most relevant to what I do from day to day is collectivism as a way of deciding how a business runs.
In this capitalistic world, life is generally easier if we can exchange our time, skills, and energy for money, ideally while doing something we do not mind, or perhaps even like. That money then allows us to do more of the things we value.
So far, so agreeable.
The problem begins when we find ourselves having to trade too much individual liberty in exchange for that income.
Collectivism, at least in the workplace sense, offers another possibility. It seeks to preserve people’s liberty by making sure that everyone involved in a business has a say in the decisions that affect them, rather than handing that power over to a manager or team leader. I still find those words a little distasteful.
Collectives are, then, something different from the everyday business model. They leave more room for the people within them — the members, who are often also the owners — to define the organisation in ways that reflect their shared values and aspirations.
To me, the most important ingredient is this: a collective exists for a different reason than most conventional businesses.
Rather than existing primarily to generate profit for someone else, it exists to provide a livelihood for its members.
That one difference creates a fundamental shift.
It changes the purpose of the enterprise. It changes who power belongs to. It changes what success looks like. And it changes the relationship people have with their work.
That does not mean collectives are perfect, nor does it mean the Borg were onto something.
But it does mean that “the collective” may not be as frightening as we have been taught to think.
