Isn’t it odd that we have created inhuman fictional characters that have become wildly popular in our culture - characters we love to quote and who have contributed to the cultural dialogue in no small degree - yet we make them so very human? Why do we use inhuman characters to point out the best in humanity? Are we seeking an objective viewpoint, and, if so, why do we, as a culture, reject the viewpoint of a Divine Being?
Take Lt. Commander Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation, for example; he actually aspires to be human - or as similar to one as he can be. In an episode in which Brent Spiner’s character speaks with Leonard Nimoy’s character, Ambassador Spock, both inhuman characters discuss the merits and limitations of “being human.”
Data points out that Spock, who is half-human and half-Vulcan, chose, as a matter of lifestyle, the Vulcan half of his heritage, whereas Data, whose android abilities do not include emotional responses, is the apex of what Vulcans aspire to achieve - an existence completely free of emotional entanglements, which allows them to operate in a realm of pure logic. These two characters - one that originited in Star Trek (the original series) and one from the arguably more popular Next Generation series - briefly explore the merits of “being human,” and their observations regarding humans seem generally positive.
In fact, it is amazing how human aliens, robots, androids and other science-fiction character types are. Of course, this sort of fiction is written in such a way that certain character types will appeal to a consumer who will, hopefully, buy either an ideology or a product (or both), that the book, TV series or movie creator is selling.
The question is, why not use humans? We do, of course, but Anne Rice has her all-too-human vampires with all of their conflicts and inner demons; Gene Roddenberry showcased many different lifeforms, each of which seemed to teach us something about ourselves; George Lucas had his droids and his little green swamp hermit; and all of them - and many more such creations - have become wildly popular, and even influential to the cultural philosophy we all seem to buy into, to some degree.
It could be argued that when a non-human character makes a statement about human beings, it creates an artificial (pardon the pun) sense of objectivity. We consider the observation from this point of view, and either agree - usually with a chuckle - or disagree. When we disagree, we chalk it up to a misunderstanding - How could an alien understand what it means to be human? Either way, we are forced to look at ourselves, as if from the outside. It causes a conscious (or subconscious) moment of reflection on the whole of which we each are a part, and a generalized value judgement as well.
Reflection in a more focused form is often manifested in meditation. The Buddha said that “meditation brings wisdom, lack of meditation leaves ignorance,” and cautioned us to “know well what leads you forward and what holds you back.” Reflection is an important part of religious observation of any kind - whether on ourselves or on the teachings of the religion we choose. Making value judgements is also a part of any religion.
Why, then, is it so popular to culturally reject organized religion? Why do we not want the point of view of a supreme Divine Being? It could be argued that we are afraid of coming short of the ideal to which He might have us adhere - a state of being many would be loathe to admit, endure or correct.
So, we create, instead, artificial beings as imperfect as we are to make us feel good about ourselves - accepting and laughing along with their positive observations, and excusing as erroneous the ones that we find distasteful. We have created the ultimate back-patting machine, and his name is Data.
In Mr. Spock’s words, this is “truly fascinating.”