Reclaiming the Hivemind in Science Fiction

As a foundation for the science fiction trope of the hivemind, eusocial species—those who collectively act and think for the colony’s sake, a mentality best witnessed in ants, bees, termites, and even naked mole-rats—get a bad rap. The positives of eusociality (community, altruism, collective decision-making) either go ignored or are twisted, characterized by colonization, a loss of individuality, and aggressive indoctrination. Yet this was not always the case. Early depictions of collective intelligences in the genre portrayed them as kind, hyper-intelligent, communicative, and (sometimes) sexually liberated. Our inability as modern writers and readers to recognize anything sympathetic or remotely sapient in the hivemind results in a projection of the worst of humanity onto these collective intelligences when, arguably, they should reflect our best.

To explore the hivemind in depth requires an understanding of its origins within science fiction. Historically, fear of the hivemind came after the origination of the trope and owes its existence to something referred to as the group mind, whose distinctions from its successor will shortly become clear. The group mind first appeared in H.G. Wells’ 1901 book The First Men in the Moon, where an intelligent species known as the Selenites are described as having a body structure and society closely resembling that of ants. Conversation with their leader (referred to as the “Grand Lunar”) about human society back on Earth reveals them to be an intelligent and empathetic species confused by humankind’s inability to communicate with their own members. “The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging to the inconvenience of diverse tongues. “They want to communicate, and yet not to communicate,’” (Wells 336). This confusion becomes horror as the conversation turns to the brutality of war and humanity’s ceaseless pursuit of it. “You mean to say… that you run about over the surface of your world—this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to scrape—killing one another for beasts to eat… (b)ut do not ships and your poor little cities get injured?” (Wells 336-37). This first depiction of an alien species inspired by eusocial insects is not alone in portraying them as kind, hyper-intelligent, and psychically communicative, the latter two traits of which remain fixed (though perverted) to the trope to this day. Author Olaf Stapledon’s 1930 novel First and Last Men takes the group mind a step further. Within this novel he applies these traits to a hyper-advanced race of men evolved from our own and writes from the perspective of a historian reflecting on our evolution from the First Men (as we exist now) to the Eighteenth Men. The Eighteenth Men are described as physically distinct from one another, sexually liberated, telepathic, and communal. They have evolved into many “sub-sexes” and organize the family unit around having one member of each sub-sex for a total of 96 members, all of whom share thoughts and feelings with one another. Decision-making is completed through consensus, with their society arranged in such a way that each group’s decision on a matter that impacts them all is weighed against that of other groups until a consensus is reached. The group-minded Eighteenth Men, as the Selenites before them, are not a monolith as later science fiction stories portray the hivemind to be:

Each individual has his own private needs, which he heartily craves to fulfil… he subordinates these private cravings to the good of the race absolutely and without struggle. The only kind of conflict which ever occurs between individuals is, not the irreconcilable conflict of wills, but the conflict due to misunderstanding, to imperfect knowledge of the matter under dispute; and this can always be abolished by patient telepathic explication. (Stapledon Chapter XV. The Last Men 3. A Racial Awakening, para. 9)

That the Eighteenth Men resolve conflict through discourse and reason should reassure a modern reader that members continue to exist as individuals while remaining part of a collective (which is itself part of a greater collective). They stand as an admirable example of how future science fiction writers can reinvigorate the genre by returning to its roots, as opposed to relinquishing depictions of eusocial species to the all-consuming hivemind. This is not to say that all depictions of the group mind were as positive as these, but the shift from largely positive to largely negative parallels the emergence of the term, “hivemind.”

It is only after the word’s popularization in beekeeping in the 1940s that it arises in science fiction, where it appeared in James H. Schmitze's 1950 short story Second Night of Summer. In this story an alien race known as the Halpa descends upon the Earth. Hardly visible to the naked eye, they stalk a small town while attempting to provoke violent reactions from the locals to justify an invasion. “There had been something indescribably menacing and self-assured in the Halpa's gesture. Almost certainly, it had only been trying to draw a reaction of hostile intelligence from them, probing, perhaps, for the presence of weapons that might be dangerous to its kind” (Schmitze 174). While such a tactic would seem to require some degree of intelligence, the Halpa are described as if they are extensions of a higher intelligence, deadly and capable, but not particularly insightful individuals. The emergence of this hostile group mind and the author’s efforts to distinguish it from past examples by referring to it as a “hivemind” coincides with the beginning of McCarthyism during the Second Red Scare, that period in which fear of communism and the political other gripped the United States. It does not seem a stretch to suggest that the strategies of the Cold War—that incessant game of posturing and provocation—which had begun 5 years prior inspired Schmitze to create the Halpa, always probing for an excuse to retaliate. Nor that these powerful social tides influenced the shift from peaceful collectivism and sexual liberation in the group mind to the hostile, individuality-subverting indoctrination of the hivemind.

Starship Troopers. I find this sequence an interesting example of the bugs’ capacity for emotions, which runs counter to the film’s diegetic propaganda. Showing the whites of the bug’s eyes allows the viewer to briefly see the fear there before a steel-eyed soldier puts it to death.

Paul Verhoeven’s 1997 film Starship Troopers depicts this latter variety of group-mindedness in human form well. In this film, human society has taken on the worst qualities (mindless aggression, hardline nationalism, indoctrination) applied to hiveminds since the Red Scare while simultaneously accusing their sworn enemies the Arachnids of being similarly unintelligent and aggressive. Their portrayals of the Arachnids as mindless drones fit for slaughter ring hollow when the United Citizen Federation’s troops swarm their enemies like ants, with a dozen or more humans onscreen firing into a single Arachnid (Verhoeven 01:16:07-20). There is also an argument to be made that the UCF’s political structure contributes to a form of diminished intelligence (“mindlessness”). A mentality of “might makes right” has replaced diplomacy and nuance, with humans who opt out of going to war (Johnny Rico's parents, for instance) finding themselves treated as second-class “civilians” (their derogatory word for nonvoting members of society) and cowards. Their opinions hold no sway in the society to which they belong, contributing to an entire caste of people with no political power and whose opinions go heard but ignored. Further paralleling them to the hivemind, the UCF has no qualms about indoctrinating children. During one of the film's, “Would You Like to Know More?” segments (00:53:53-00:54:06), a gaggle of schoolchildren viciously stamp on cockroaches on a schoolyard playground, screaming, “Die! Die! Die!” A schoolteacher cheers them on, acting as a substitute for the government as an approving authority figure. The narrator and the text over the screen encourage the viewer to, “Do Your Part!” whether it be at home or with the family. For a sapient species which portrays their foe as mindless, vicious, and lacking individuality, the propaganda segments of this film turn such accusations back on the UCF. Were these children not taught to hate the Arachnids from childhood, would they be as eager for violence as Rico and his friends? Contrast their society to the Arachnids who, in working together against the human invaders to their planet, betray greater intelligence than they are credited with: directing plasma fire into the sky against human ships, laying ambushes, targeting specific people. Though these actions are directed by a hyperintelligent “Brain Bug” who is implied to have psychic powers (a common trait of both group minds and hiveminds), it is not so different from how the UCF operates, who have their own psychic members and communicate their desire for violence through technology instead of telepathy. The parallels between Arachnids and the humans in the UCF are too powerful to ignore, and while both have clearly strayed far from the roots of the hivemind in science fiction, the human society within the film is soberingly similar to some of the worst elements of our society today.

Neither the Halpa, the Arachnids, nor the UCF tap into the most horrific aspect of the group mind versus the hivemind: assimilation. A popular example of an assimilating hivemind comes from the Borg of Gene Rodenberry’s long-running series Star Trek. A space-faring hivemind which kidnaps and indoctrinates members of sentient species through technology, the Borg are a familiar species even outside the show. In episode two of the sixth season of the spinoff series Star Trek: Voyager, “Survival Instinct,” former Borg Seven of Nine (played by actress Jeri Ryan) is confronted by a trio—Two, Three, and Four of Nine respectively—who had survived a crash on a deserted planet with Seven. Stranded and unable to contact to the Collective, the four Borg used the time to explore their thoughts without interference from the millions of minds in the Collective. As the episode flips back and forth between the present-day struggles of the trio sharing their unfiltered thoughts with one another and their rekindling individuality in the past, Seven is forced to confront that she, though now an individual, did not at the time want to be separated from the Collective. Her past self’s sense of fear and loss is obvious throughout the episode, and as it progresses, it becomes clear that she is the reason for their estrangement from the Collective… and their current distressing state of not knowing whose thoughts end where. When given an opportunity to choose for the trio whether they die in a month’s time as individuals outside the Collective or rejoin it to live longer, Seven grants them the individuality they so desperately sought. The episode takes a firm stance on individuality over assimilation, with the stranded Borg expressing horror over their technology-ridden bodies and stolen identities. This bastardized variety of aggressive collectivism, which is distressingly common in depictions of the hivemind, is notably absent in earlier group minds, as with the Eighteenth Men and the collective but docile Selenites. It is the post-McCarthyism world that is saddled with this horror.

Both the group mind and the hivemind rely heavily on eusocial insects (particularly ants) as their inspiration. Yet perhaps it is time to return to eusociality and explore what other species in the natural world besides ants have something to contribute to the genre. Bees and naked mole-rats stand out as examples that can help breathe the positive elements of eusociality back into depictions of such societies. While the former is still an insect, a 2022 study, “Do Bumble Bees Play?” led by Lars Chittka of the Queen Mary University of London into bee society yielded a surprising result: bees enjoy play in a manner not dissimilar to mammals and birds. In the study’s conclusion:

Bees rolled inedible colored balls repeatedly. This activity did not result in an apparent immediate function, such as gaining food; however, bees’ repeated interactions with balls suggest that the behavior was rewarding… similar to vertebrate play, age and sex differences were found where younger workers and male bees rolled balls more often and for longer, respectively. We suggest that the behavior observed here has actual hedonic value for bumble bees, which adds to the growing body of evidence of a form of sentience in these insects. (Chittka)

The capacity for play in a species contributes greatly to whether that species can learn to use tools, form social bonds, or express other forms of intelligence. Further, ants (the basis for most of both group minds and hiveminds) have not been found to share this desire for play, though they share other similarities—rabid defense of the hive, specialized roles, collective intelligence toward problem-solving—with bees. As with the Selenites and the Arachnids, a centralized society structured around a single leader does not strictly mean that a non-ruling member of that species is unintelligent, and in fact, may well prove more intelligent than comparable creatures of a similar size, disposition, and ecological niche. It is their social structure, more so than their brain capacity, which contributes to their potential as a sentient species. According to Dirk Schulze-Makuch of Washington State University:

Sociality cannot be underestimated as a pathway to intelligence. Our own species is the best example. Edward O. Wilson famously argued once that we as human beings are “eusocial” apes, with the “eu” not representing a strict division of shared labors but meaning truly social, extremely cooperative and willing to make personal sacrifices for the greater good of the tribe. Certainly, humans are social, not eusocial, but this provocative statement by Edward O. Wilson shows that we stand apart from other apes, and even from other hominids, with our brand of extreme “togetherness.” (Schulze-Makuch)

University of Michigan. Naked Mole Rats tunneling in a team with specialized roles for excavating, moving, and disposing of dirt.

His 2019 study, “The Naked Mole-Rat: An Unusual Organism with an Unexpected Latent Potential for Increased Intelligence?” delves deeply into the characteristics associated with species more commonly recognized as intelligent (octopi, humans, parrots, etc.) and searches for comparable examples in naked mole-rats. Naked mole-rats share the longevity of these species, a unique trait among rodents. Young naked mole-rats, like bees, engage in play. Adults, while burrowing, display tool use by holding roots or wood shavings behind their incisors to prevent breathing in harmful materials while digging. They create latrines, communicate through vocalizations, and engage in chores that benefit the whole of their colony. Schulze-Makuch is of the opinion that were they not limited by their underground lives, naked mole-rats would be among those aforementioned species displaying higher forms of intelligence.

That humanity already shares so many traits with existing eusocial species is a positive indicator for the untapped potential of humanoid, not insectile, collective intelligences in science fiction. Technically a return to form, popular culture has been deprived of the group mind in favor of the hivemind for so long that the phrase, “What’s old is new again,” applies. More aliens like the Eighteenth Men with their enlightened perspectives on collectivism, sexuality, and gender would be embraced in the digital age over those like the United Citizen Federation. We are arguably close already, as beyond our shared base traits as a species with eusocial ones, our growing social conscience and connectivity makes for a compelling argument that humankind is already well on its way to becoming a group mind. By once more cultivating these elements in our science fiction, we may influence future generations to embrace collective conscience, as those fluent in the science fiction genre reflexively recognize their parallels—subjugation, assimilation, indoctrination—in hiveminds.

Works Cited

Chittka, et al. “Do Bumble Bees Play?” Animal Behavior vol. 194, 2022, pages 239-251, ISSN 0003-3472, sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0003347222002366. Accessed 08 Dec. 2023.

Diagram of Naked Mole Rats Digging. University of Michigan, Museum of Zoology. animaldiversity.org/accounts/Heterocephalus_glaber/. Accessed 14 May 2024.

Schmitze, James H. Agent of Vega and Other Stories. Second Night of Summer. Kindle, eBook, read.amazon.com/?asin=B00AP91QYK&ref_=dbs_t_r_kcr. Accessed 13 Dec. 2023.

Schulze-Makuch, Dirk. “The Naked Mole-Rat: An Unusual Organism with an Unexpected Latent Potential for Increased Intelligence?”. Life (Basel, Switzerland) vol. 9(3): 76. 16 Sep. 2019, doi:10.3390/life9030076.

Stapledon, Olaf. Last and First Men: A Story of the Near and Far Future. Project Gutenberg (Australia), eBook, gutenberg.net.au/ebooks06/0601101h.html. Accessed 12 Dec. 2023.

“Survival Instinct.” Star Trek: Voyager. Season 6, episode 2. Created by Rick Berman, performance by Jeri Ryan, Paramount Television, 29 Sept. 1991.

Verhoeven, Paul. Starship Troopers. Sony Pictures Releasing, 1997.

Wells, H.G. The First Men in the Moon. George Newnes, Limited. 1901. Project Gutenberg, eBook, gutenberg.org/files/52501/52501-h/52501-h.htm. Accessed 11 Dec. 2023