George Takei

October, 1999, LOS ANGELES — It felt like déjà vu, and I didn't like it at all. In September, I participated in a press conference in Los Angeles and a U.S. Justice Department symposium in Washington, D.C. The topic at both events -- minorities on television.

For decades, television network executives have been making ringing proclamations of their responsibility to reflect the great diversity of America. When called to task for their failings, they always asserted that they would do better the next season. But without a trace of embarrassment, the four top networks, CBS, NBC, ABC and Fox, revealed a slate of 26 new shows for the 1999-2000 season in which all the lead roles and all the regular supporting roles are white. Bluntly put, they are presenting a version of America that is a bald-faced lie. I call it a white-faced lie. Look around any American city and one can clearly see that ours is a multi ethnic, multi racial, multi cultural society. What makes us unique among nations is the fact that Americans are the only people in the world who do not share a common gene pool.

Television plays an awesomely important role in race relations. It shapes and forms perceptions and attitudes about the people with whom we live. Used constructively, television can be a vital element in building a healthy society of diverse people. Used irresponsibly, it can divide and inflame.

Asian Americans are keenly aware of this power of television. The portrayal of Asian Americans in one-dimensional stereotypes, or, even worse, our absence from television, underscores the view of Asian Americans as not truly American. No matter how many generations we have been here, Asian Americans still are seen merely as extraordinarily Americanized foreigners. Whether in news coverage or entertainment programming, this kind of simplistic portrayal strips us of our variety and complexity and reduces us to just the "other." Thus, the suspected transgression of an individual Asian American casts a veil of suspicion on all Asian Americans. Asian American scientists are viewed with suspicion as possible spies for foreign nations. Our political contributions are questioned with no basis other than our Asian surnames. Over half a century ago, because this country couldn't recognize the distinction between Americans of Japanese ancestry and the Imperial Japanese government, all Japanese Americans on the West Coast were incarcerated in American concentration camps during World War II.

In offering a slate of new shows void of minorities, the four networks are reinforcing a dangerous fantasy — the fantasy that America is a white nation. This vision feeds directly into the delusions of white supremacists. It sustains their racist notion that minorities don't belong in America and need to be eliminated. In the last few months, three Asians have been killed in hate crimes in Illinois, Indiana and, most recently, here in my hometown of Los Angeles. Do the television decision-makers think they are not in any way connected to these troubles?

How can television have sunk so low since those halcyon years of Star Trek more than three decades ago? Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry believed in the credo, "strength in our pluralism." He envisioned the Starship Enterprise as a metaphor for starship earth in all its great diversity. The crew of the Enterprise reflected the composition of the many people that inhabit this planet working in concert. Roddenberry created a show that resonated with the television viewing audience, not only in this country, but all over the world. And the show has engaged the imagination of this global audience for more than thirty-three years. If television is an imitative medium, then there could be no better model for television executives to imitate than the vision of Gene Roddenberry. Let's go back to the future.

January, 2001, LOS ANGELES - The 20th century is now history and we begin a new century and a bright new millennium. What this millennial turn might portend is both tantalizing, and, at the same time, just a bit daunting. The last century gave us astronauts on the moon as well as the atomic bomb; the reading of the human genome and the Holocaust; the darkest of evils and some of the most magnificent advances to come from the human mind. If history is any guide, the years ahead will likely move us forward with even more dazzling new advances wrought from the genius of our minds, as we at the same time struggle to avert another plunge into some horrific new depravity. I am an optimist hopeful that wisdom would prevail over our darker aspects but mindful of the infinite range of the human animal. We have the capacity for nobility and depravity as well as vacillation. The United States now has a new President who lost the popular vote and was appointed by a partisan U.S. Supreme Court. We begin the millennium on an ambiguous but nevertheless hopeful note.

I finished the last month of the last year with my traditional shopping trek to London. I love London. I love its theaters. I love its museums. I love its people. I love its ever-changing, ever-unchanging appeal.

"Cats" is still playing in London as New York brought the final curtain down on the record-breaking run of its Broadway version. Of course, the eternal "The Mousetrap" is still playing. Theater in London is eternal. They do great American plays as masterfully as they do Shakespeare. I saw a moving production of Eugene O'Neill's masterpiece, "Long Days Journey Into Night," with a deeply affecting performance by Jessica Lange. I saw Andrew Lloyd Webber's newest musical, "The Beautiful Game," a heartbreaking tale of the conflict in Northern Ireland that had some resonance of "West Side Story." My biggest theatrical disappointment was a much-lauded production of Stephen Sondheim's "Merrily We Roll Along." After fighting a rainstorm to get to the theater, we were told that the performance was cancelled because of an illness in the cast. They had no understudy. Our disappointment continued into the night with the restaurant that we decided on in lieu of the play. Service was poor, the food mediocre and the bill preposterous. I guess some evenings just are not meant to be.

Cultural London is wonderfully transforming itself without physically altering the urban landscape. Some of the most exciting new cultural institutions are in adaptively reused buildings or restoration of great classic structures.

The stunning Tate Modern, the new museum on the south bank of the Thames, is in a former powerhouse. The monstrous industrial space has been masterfully reshaped into a series of wonderful galleries. However, great works of modern art somehow seem to get upstaged by windows in some of the galleries that offer spectacular views of St. Paul's Cathedral across the river. Even Andy Warhol couldn't compete with that splendid city vista. And I recommend the top floor restaurant for a champagne lunch with a fabulous view.

I hadn't been to The British Museum in more than a decade. I'd read that a wonderful new improvement had been made there. The Great Court of The British Museum had been carved out of the clutter of ancillary buildings built over the years around the old British Library in the courtyard of the museum. We rushed to view this new addition to the London cultural scene two days after Queen Elizabeth II had inaugurated the space. Touted as the largest covered public space in Europe, I found it a bright, spacious and elegant expansion of a London treasure. The terrace restaurant there hadn't opened yet, so I will have to return there again soon.

The Royal Opera House in Covent Garden is legendary. In addition to its own storied history, George Bernard Shaw contributed to its fame by placing the opening scene of his play "Pygmalion" right in front of the Covent Garden Opera House, as does the play's musical version, "My Fair Lady." The opera house and the floral hall next to it had been under renovation for the past few years and had reopened in 1999 to great critical applause. The demand for tickets was so hot that I couldn't get in back then. This visit, I was determined and managed to get a pair of tickets for the ballet "Ondine." The performance was superb but the opera house itself was absolutely breathtaking. It was opera-going in the classic European tradition. Gilded tiers piled upon glittering tiers filled with elegantly dressed theatergoers. The new Covent Garden Opera House shone with a brilliance that only sensitive restoration combined with modern technology could produce. And the incorporation of the crystalline Floral Hall as an addition to the lobby with stylish new restaurants was great. Service efficient, food delightful, and prices varied.

The most controversial cultural addition to the London landscape was also its newest and most temporary -- the Millennium Dome. Looking like a giant desert tent or some extraterrestrial construction site on the Meridian Line at Greenwich, the Dome was a vast exposition hall with exhibits on the challenges and opportunities in the new millennium. Divided into 14 zones of diverse human activities such as work, play, learning, money and journey, it was much too much to experience in a day. We did the journey through a gigantic human body, walked through one million pounds in British sterling and went through the exhibit on future modes of travel. I should have been prepared for the inevitable -- floating luminously above us in the travel zone was a model of the Starship Enterprise. But, like Cinderella's coach, the Millennium Dome disappeared on December 31, 2000. A good number of British people felt that this attraction was much too much money spent for much too little. However, the Millennium Dome, with its subway line extension, the regeneration of the area and the Millennium Village, leaves a fine legacy of infrastructure for the future development of a formerly underused area. I thought it a good investment.

One millennium project that will remain on the London landscape is the giant Ferris wheel dubbed the Millennium Eye built on the south bank of the Thames across from Big Ben. On a clear, cold, blustery day, we headed out for a bird's eye view of London from the wheel. Alas, the day may have been bright and sunny but the strong wind made a ride on the delicately balanced attraction too chancy. They cancelled operation of the Ferris wheel. We now have another good reason to return to London.

The one inevitable joy on any of my travels is a gathering with Star Trek fans. Jackie Edwards, a former fan club president, had moved to Essex and had been urging me to visit that part of England. It was the driest part of England, she had told me. So, this being England, I had to travel through a driving rainstorm to reach Norwich in Norfolk. Hosted by Richard Stubbings, owner of a fantastical store called Kulture Shock, I spent a day as lively as it was wet with fans that have become good friends.

The millennium is off to a happy start. Let's all work to keep it that way.

February, 2001, LOS ANGELES - I continue to be captivated by the popularity and the longevity of the Star Trek phenomenon. It remains a pervasive factor in my life, whether professionally, personally or in my public service activities. And this gift has serendipitously expanded my horizon and enriched my life.

A direct professional tie-in can be viewed on February 18th when an episode of "V.I.P." starring Pamela Anderson is aired on the Fox network. I play the voice of an omniscient super computer that was programmed by a brilliant techno-genius who is a fervent Captain Sulu fan. Hence, my casting as the voice of the computer.

The Star Trek conventions, of course, keep on trekking. My first convention of this year was in the charming city of Portland, Oregon. It was a lively gathering on a cold, damp weekend. Long-time fans mingled with a growing number of young, first-time conventioneers. And, as well, the con gave me the chance to indulge my preservationist interest and again explore the imaginatively restored turn-of-the-century historic district of Portland.

I did voice work last week on a feature film project, cryptically titled, "Noon Blue Apple." I play a mysterious voice that haunts the mind of the lead character. No direct Star Trek connection here other than the fact that the director knew of my work from the original series.

But Star Trek has also afforded me the opportunity to contribute more effectively in a myriad of other areas not related to my professional career. This month, I was honored to serve as the star of a fund-raising dinner to help build a planetarium on the campus of Long Beach City College. With this facility, young students will be able to expand their study of the heavens and let their imaginations soar to the stars. Clearly, without the Star Trek association, I would not have been able to support this important cause as effectively as I was able.

On another occasion this month, I addressed a group of young interns at the Japanese American National Museum on volunteerism. Here again, I was able to connect with them more successfully as Captain Sulu of Star Trek than as the Chairman of the Board of the Museum.

We have a mayoral election coming up this spring in the city of Los Angeles, my hometown. I am supporting the former Speaker of the California Assembly, Antonio Villaraigosa. I know that I was asked to speak at his press conference largely because of the draw of my Star Trek linkage. As well, when I spoke at the Japanese seniors' intermediate care facility, Keiro Services, Star Trek combined with my association with the Japanese American National Museum, were the factors that attracted the large audience of seniors. I chatted with one lady who was 104 years old. She was born in 1896 - having lived in three centuries! In so many unexpected ways, my association with Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry's visionary creation has opened doors that have expanded my life horizon.

But when any hint of self-importance might begin to creep into me and I start believing that my Star Trek association is free entrée to anything, a humbling reminder always seems to bring me back to reality.

This month, my niece, Akemi Takei, sportscaster for KING-TV in Seattle, got married to David Louchheim, a radio sportscaster, on a beautiful beach in Maui, Hawaii. It was a singularly romantic affair, the bride and groom barefoot, with waves crashing in on lava rock outcroppings behind them. The reception was held at a hilltop restaurant overlooking the Wailea Country Club and the turquoise blue Pacific beyond. As we sipped cocktails, nibbled hors d'oeuvres and waited for the sun to set, I slowly became aware of a generational divide. The parents of my niece and David's friends were thrilled to meet me. They were eager to have their pictures taken with me. They told me they were long-time Star Trek fans from back in their college days. The young people, however -- Akemi and David's friends -- were gracious and friendly but rather blasé. In fact, some weren't really that familiar with Star Trek. They, I realized, were the post-Star Trek generation. The passage of time brings with it the larger context of life.

As I huffed and puffed my way back up to the volcano's rim - 10,000-feet above sea level -- I thought of the ardent excitement of the middle-aged Star Trek fans of the evening before, and, in contrast, the nonchalant affability of their children. Intense fire and cool, youthful calm. There didn't seem to be that much difference between the human generations and geologic time.