no dear is my text and my reflections

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

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

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

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

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

That made the resolution feel earned.

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

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

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

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

That distinction matters.

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

I am talking about the overall narrative architecture.

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

That is what I find weaker in Picard.

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

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

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

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

I am asking for ethical coherence.

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

That is the difference I am talking about.

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

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

That is how strong the character writing was.

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

I don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

thank you for sharing

That example actually reinforces my point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t think nostalgia is the issue.

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

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

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

Old Trek repeatedly asked:

We can do this — but should we?

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

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