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Lex maniac

Investigating changes in American English vocabulary over the last 40 years

Tag Archives: science fiction

dream team

(1990’s | athletese | “crack team or group”)

The second moldy oldie in a row, this term was well established by 1980 — it turns up in Google Books before 1950 — but primarily in athletic contexts, as in the high school basketball All-American team. Next came the arts, particularly writing about cinema, in which it referred to a group (usually a pair) of actors that either had appeared together in a film, or the critic merely wished they had. “Dream Team” was the title of a 1989 film, an ensemble comedy about mental patients, and well before that Joe McGinniss had used it as the title of a novel in 1972. So it’s not like there was anything novel about it when the revolution came in 1992, led by the U.S. men’s Olympic basketball team. A spike in the use of the term coincided with a modestly significant grammatical evolution: the switch from indefinite article to definite was the inevitable result of THE Dream Team’s hijacking of the phrase. Before that, it was much more common to talk about “a dream team.” Ever since, while it’s still possible to use the indefinite article, you can’t really use the expression without reminding everyone of Magic, Larry, Michael, Scottie, and the rest. Another change: after 1992, the expression has almost invariably referred to a functioning group of players that actually competes against other teams. Before that, it was as likely to mean an imaginary team, like an all-time all-star squad, which could never actually be assembled to play a game.

Because of the longstanding use of “dream” as an adjective to mean “best imaginable,” this phrase doesn’t require a complicated origin story. The rhyme helped make it memorable, of course, like “supergroup” or “Mod Squad.” The most noteworthy thing about “dream team” is that it almost always refers to a temporary or even ad hoc assemblage, usually in response to a singular crisis or at least a big event, like the Olympics. Generally, we envision a roster of standouts in a particular field — doctors, fund managers, musicians forming a band — drawn together by a central agency or just uniting of their own accord for a specific purpose and a limited time, after which the team disbands and everyone goes back to what they were doing.

There are other things that “dream team” could mean, right? It can — but rarely does — signify the sports franchise one has loved all one’s life (“team of my dreams,” like “girl of my dreams”), or some kind of organization devoted to helping kids realize their ambitions. Why not a group of psychoanalysts working over a patient’s unconscious, or a foundation dedicated to ending the practice of judging people by the color of their skin, or a committee committed to passing the DREAM Act? The sense of “short-lived congeries of top performers” has made such plausibilities more or less impossible, not to mention eliminating the entire field of imaginary teams. Maybe of all the possibilities, that’s the signified that most needed a signifier. There are precedents in the movies — “The Magnificent Seven” and “Ocean’s 11” both came out in 1960, oddly enough — and the basic idea is as old as the Iliad. The persistence of the concept has driven out other possible associations. I don’t know anything about science fiction, but wasn’t there a story or novel about beings who work together to get inside the heads of certain characters (or everybody, what the hell) and control their dreams, whether doing emergency repairs like a utility crew or manipulating them for gain like evil geniuses? I have the feeling I’m describing the plot of a sci-fi monument without having the faintest idea what it is. Faithful readers?

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hive mind

(1990’s | science fiction | “zeitgeist,” “will of the people,” “conventional wisdom,” “groupthink”)

It all started with the bees. The British apiarist H.J. Wadey probably did not invent the term, but he used it in the 1940’s to describe the process by which lots and lots of bees, each of which has next to no mental capacity on its own, work together to create an intelligence that cannot be accounted for simply by adding up the microcapacities of each bee in the colony. There was something a bit mystical about it, and that transcendent quality was picked up by other authorities on bees. From there it became property of science fiction writers, for whom the concept was tailor-made. In their hands, it could retain the sense of a purer intelligence emerging from the collective, or it could be a means of imposing zombie conformity and obedience on the rest of us. Science fiction runs to utopia or dystopia anyway, and the hive mind can be used to exemplify both, even in the same book. The phrase had not become common outside of science-fiction circles; I doubt most Americans were familiar with it when I was young.

There the matter rested until the mid-1990’s, when the expression received the benefit of two cultural megaphones: first Kevin Kelly, founder of Wired magazine, then the film Star Trek: First Contact. Kelly saw the hive mind as the result of amplifying human capability with computers (preferably implanted) to enhance our collective intelligence and create a larger force, human yet superhuman, that would change everything for the better — although individual drones might not fare so well. A year or two later, Star Trek: First Contact came out, which featured the Borg as the villain. The Borg had appeared on Star Trek: The Next Generation (the Patrick Stewart cast, which also populated the film), but this seems to have been the first time the phrase “hive mind” ever appeared in the script. The Wired geeks and the Star Trek geeks between them formed a critical mass, and “hive mind” emerged from the sci-fi shadows and began to be encountered much more often. The onset of social media certainly didn’t slow the spread of the phrase; here again, the concept may be beneficent or noxious.

Kelly was an optimist, positing that the computer-aided hive mind would lead to a much greater capacity to solve human problems, whereas the Borg represents the dark side, gobbling up plucky individualists and producing numbing conformity while enriching its own hive mind with the contributions of other civilizations (sounds like imperialism, or the one percent). My sense is that today the pessimists are winning; “hive mind” has become a favored grenade to toss across the political divide, as stalwarts of the right and left accuse their opponents of stupidly parroting the sentiments put forth by their respective opinion makers. On this view, the hive mind is simply an overlord to which the bad guys pledge dumb fealty. (Of course, both left and right have their share of unreasoning myrmidons, but I wonder if they may be more characteristic of the right wing. “Dittohead” is no longer fashionable, but it’s worth noting that only right-wingers called themselves “dittoheads,” often with pride.) Even if the insulting use predominates right now, the more hopeful meaning may rise again. Take UNU, for example, which promises to help us “think together” by setting up a “swarm intelligence.”

Once you get away from the notion of a literal superbrain, the metaphorical uses of the expression come quickly into view. A single brain can itself be seen as a teeming hive mind, with neurons equivalent to drones, each doing its tiny duty but producing prodigious results by subordinating itself. (A more recent issue of Wired showcases an example of this sort of analogy, which has no counterpart for the queen bee.) More generally, the hive mind may serve as a symbol of our politics, in which millions combine to create and support a unified national government. (If that idealized picture makes you snicker, you’re not alone.) Our national motto, E pluribus unum, means “out of many, one,” and that’s not a bad summary of how a hive mind works. No single individual knows everything or can do it all by herself; the nation must muddle along making the most of whatever contributions it can get from hard-working citizens, who create the polity by banding together, at least partly unconsciously, to assert a collective will.

This post was inspired by the one and only lovely Liz from Queens, who nominated “hive mind” only last week, thereby sparing me the trouble of coming up with a new expression to write about. Thanks, baby!

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