Over at Reddit's Daystrom Institute forum, one poster made an unsettling post relating to the Fermi paradox in the Star Trek setting.
We know it's possible, even with 21st century technology, to make observations of worlds on the far side of the galaxy. By the 24th century, it would stand to figure that any number of expansive interstellar civilizations, including the Federation, would be able to make far more detailed observations of the galaxy's world and beyond. We also know that any number of devastating events, including the destruction of planets and the detonation of stars, occur with some frequency in the setting. If we can potentially detect catastrophic events like these with foreseeable technology, what about the Star Trek universe? What does knowing of these catastrophes do to even optimists?
My comment there suggested that, perhaps, this might be one critical factor encouraging known civilizations to behave responsibly and not use metaweapons. No one wants their civilization to become a long-range telescopic footnote in some distant civilization's explanation of the Fermi paradox.
(I shudder to think of real-world applications of this.)
We know it's possible, even with 21st century technology, to make observations of worlds on the far side of the galaxy. By the 24th century, it would stand to figure that any number of expansive interstellar civilizations, including the Federation, would be able to make far more detailed observations of the galaxy's world and beyond. We also know that any number of devastating events, including the destruction of planets and the detonation of stars, occur with some frequency in the setting. If we can potentially detect catastrophic events like these with foreseeable technology, what about the Star Trek universe? What does knowing of these catastrophes do to even optimists?
[I]t's interesting to consider that a big space faring culture, like the Federation, with its MIDAS Array and all the rest, in addition to spying on questionable Romulans and observing the weirdnesses of negative space wedgies, is also, apparently, receiving a steady static crackle composed of acts of ancient and distant violence, frequently of genocidal proportions. A starship heading into an unexplored sector might not know much beyond the locations of its constituent stars and planets- and that a hundred years ago, there was a fierce exchange of torpedo fire that resulted in the warp core breaches of a dozen ships- a fact made clear when the light from those incidents finally crossed the Federation frontier. A star on the opposing rim of the galaxy goes supernova, and bears the telltale spectral marks of trilithium- what happens to the public mood when the first thing the Federation learns about a distant civilization is that it died badly? Does it further their commitment to peace, when the wages of violence are so apparent across the galaxy? Are they afraid of assailants wholly unknown but for the echoes of their weapons across the ages- echoes that Starfleet might seek to copy, or prepare against, or seek to legislate with its antagonists to ban before they "exist"? What does it mean for a Federation crew to go seeking out what they know to be the graveyard of a species that died to the last soul within hours of each other from mutagenic weapons? Is there a wreath-laying ceremony for the cultures they never got to know, save for their final spectroscopic scream?
My comment there suggested that, perhaps, this might be one critical factor encouraging known civilizations to behave responsibly and not use metaweapons. No one wants their civilization to become a long-range telescopic footnote in some distant civilization's explanation of the Fermi paradox.
(I shudder to think of real-world applications of this.)