The Captain We Needed

David J. Danto

Travel thoughts in my own, personal opinion

eMail: ddanto@IMCCA.org Follow Industry News: @NJDavidD on

The Captain We Needed November 2026

Remembering Sir Patrick Stewart, and the future he made us believe was possible.

I don't generally write about politics in these columns. There are plenty of people doing that already, and I prefer to spend my time discussing technology, travel, and the occasional absurdity of modern life. But the passing of Sir Patrick Stewart this week, just days before one of the most consequential midterm elections in recent memory, has me thinking about something considerably more important than entertainment.

I'm thinking about leadership. And integrity. And decency. And the remarkable contrast between the leaders we have today and the leaders we once imagined we might become.

For seven seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and later three seasons of Star Trek: Picard, Patrick Stewart regularly brought Captain Jean-Luc Picard into our living rooms. And every time he did, he showed us what leadership could look like when it was grounded in intelligence, compassion, fairness, curiosity, and an unshakable moral compass.

Picard wasn't perfect. He wasn't supposed to be. He made mistakes, struggled with difficult decisions, and sometimes found himself caught between competing obligations where there simply wasn't a good answer. In one of his most memorable moments, he offered Data a lesson that extended far beyond the bridge of the Enterprise: "It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life." But there was something extraordinary about watching a leader who actually wrestled with the ethical implications of his decisions rather than simply calculating what would benefit him personally.

When confronted with an unfamiliar life form, Picard's first instinct wasn't to destroy it, exploit it, or declare it inferior. It was to understand it. Did it possess consciousness? Did it have rights? What responsibilities did humanity have toward something it didn't understand?

When encountering another civilization, his challenge wasn't to establish which culture was superior, but to recognize that different societies could have different values without one necessarily being less worthy of respect. The Prime Directive wasn't always convenient, and Picard didn't always agree with its application, but the underlying principle was profound: having the power to impose your will doesn't automatically give you the moral right to do so.

Imagine that.

Gene Roddenberry's original vision of Star Trek was extraordinary because it imagined a future in which humanity had finally gotten past the petty hatreds and divisions that have plagued us throughout history. We had survived our wars, our prejudices, our seemingly endless capacity for self-destruction, and had emerged as something better.

The Vulcan philosophy of IDIC, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, captured that optimism beautifully. Differences weren't merely something to tolerate. They were something to celebrate. The universe was richer because people, cultures, and civilizations weren't all the same.

And perhaps most importantly, humanity had learned that cooperation was more powerful than division, that understanding was more valuable than fear, and that knowledge and discovery were worth pursuing for their own sake.

Patrick Stewart made that future believable.

My own appreciation of Stewart actually began before The Next Generation. I remember him from David Lynch's wonderfully bizarre 1984 adaptation of Dune, where he portrayed Gurney Halleck. Anyone familiar with that film knows it was an ambitious, sometimes bewildering attempt to compress an enormous story into a conventional movie. Stewart's role was significantly reduced in the theatrical version, but the extended cut that is available if one searches for it contains additional footage that offers a better opportunity to appreciate his performance.

There was already something about his presence that commanded attention. The Shakespearean training, the voice, the bearing, the ability to convey authority without having to shout. He had a way of making a character seem important simply by standing in the room.

But it was Star Trek that turned that presence into something much more meaningful.

Stewart took Roddenberry's optimistic vision and gave it a human face. He made us believe that a person could command an extraordinarily powerful starship without being consumed by the power that came with it. That someone could be authoritative without being authoritarian. That strength could be measured by restraint, and that admitting uncertainty wasn't weakness.

Think about how remarkable that is.

We watched a fictional leader who respected expertise, listened to his advisers, valued science, welcomed disagreement, and understood that his responsibility was to the people he served rather than to his own ego. He could be challenged by his officers without treating their disagreement as disloyalty. He could change his mind when presented with better evidence. He understood that leadership wasn't about always being right, but about doing everything possible to arrive at the right decision.

And then there's the world we're living in today.

As Americans prepare to vote in the midterm elections, the contrast is almost unbearable. We're living in an era when too much of our political leadership seems to thrive on precisely the instincts that Roddenberry believed humanity would eventually overcome. Fear of people who are different. Suspicion of science and expertise. The deliberate cultivation of anger and resentment. The replacement of thoughtful discussion with insults, intimidation, and the endless pursuit of personal advantage.

Where Picard saw differences as opportunities for understanding, too many of today's leaders see them as opportunities for division. Where he demonstrated that power carries enormous responsibility, we increasingly see power – and wealth for that matter – treated as an entitlement, something to be exercised against enemies rather than in service to everyone.

And where Picard believed that truth mattered even when it was inconvenient, we now live in a political environment where truth itself too often seems negotiable.

It would be easy to dismiss all of this by pointing out that Jean-Luc Picard was fictional. He was written by talented people who could give him the right words and the right decisions, and who could resolve enormously complex ethical dilemmas within a television episode.

Fair enough.

But fiction has always served a purpose beyond entertainment. It allows us to imagine possibilities, explore ideas, and establish aspirations. We don't have to believe that every human being can become Jean-Luc Picard to recognize that his values represent something worth striving toward.

And in Patrick Stewart's case, those values weren't confined to the screen.

Throughout his life, Stewart used his prominence to speak out against domestic violence, advocate for human dignity, and support LGBTQ+ rights and other causes rooted in fairness and compassion. Having witnessed domestic abuse in his own childhood, he became a particularly passionate advocate for victims, turning painful personal experience into a commitment to help others.

He wasn't simply portraying a man who believed in decency. He was doing his best to live those principles himself.

That's something I find particularly moving. Actors aren't obligated to become the characters they portray, and we certainly shouldn't confuse fictional heroism with real-world virtue. But with Stewart, there was a remarkable consistency between the ideals he represented on screen and the causes he championed away from the cameras.

And he managed to do it all while retaining a wonderful sense of humor, a willingness to laugh at himself, and an obvious delight in the absurdities of life. For someone who portrayed one of television's most dignified and serious captains, he could also be spectacularly silly.

That, too, is a quality I wish we saw more often in our leaders. You can take your responsibilities seriously without taking yourself quite so seriously.

The timing of his death makes this loss especially poignant. Just days before Americans go to the polls to decide the makeup of the next Congress, we've lost a man whose most famous character represented almost everything I wish we could demand of the people who govern us.

I'm not suggesting that we should elect politicians based on how closely they resemble fictional Starfleet officers. But I do think we could benefit enormously from expecting a few of the same basic qualities: honesty, intellectual curiosity, respect for others, empathy, integrity, and an understanding that leadership is a responsibility rather than a personal reward.

Those shouldn't be extraordinary expectations. They should be the minimum requirements.

Stewart's passing is also part of a particularly sad period for those of us who grew up believing in the future that Star Trek promised. Walter Koenig, the original Pavel Chekov, died just a few days earlier. We've lost so many of the performers who brought that optimistic universe to life, and every passing makes the connection to that extraordinary era feel a little more distant.

And it's not just Star Trek. With the loss of Dolly Parton earlier this year, another person whose enormous talent was matched by an equally enormous capacity for kindness and generosity, it sometimes feels as though the universe has developed a particularly unfortunate sense of timing.

I've seen some angry memes circulating online in which people are screaming at the Grim Reaper, telling him that he's obviously lost his aim and needs to reconsider his targets.

I understand the sentiment completely.

Seriously, Grim Reaper, Walter Koenig, Patrick Stewart, and Dolly Parton? Of all the people wandering around this planet, those are the ones you decided to collect? Perhaps it's time for a new pair of glasses. Your targeting system clearly needs recalibration.

Humor aside, there's a genuine sadness in watching people who represented the better parts of humanity disappear while so much of our public life seems increasingly dominated by its worst instincts.

But perhaps that's the wrong way to look at it.

Patrick Stewart spent decades helping us imagine a better future. Not a perfect one, but one in which people had learned to treat each other with dignity, where differences were celebrated rather than weaponized, and where leaders understood that wisdom and compassion were not signs of weakness.

That vision doesn't disappear because the man who embodied it is gone. It remains something we can aspire to, something we can teach our children, and something we can demand of those who ask for the privilege of leading us.

Next week, Americans will have an opportunity to make choices about the kind of leadership they want. I know what qualities I'll be looking for.

Sir Patrick Stewart may have left us, but Jean-Luc Picard's example remains.

And perhaps the most fitting tribute we can pay to both the actor and the character is to remember that the better future they showed us isn't something we're supposed to sit around waiting for.

It's something we're supposed to create.

Make it so.

After decades of candid travel commentary – from loyalty program “magic tricks” to hotel check-in roulette – I’ve decided to turn some of that honesty into apparel. These aren’t novelty shirts; they’re the exact truths every road warrior wishes they could say out loud. Whether you’re quietly muttering “My loyalty points devalued while you read this shirt” or admitting “If delays build character then I’m the whole movie’s cast” you’ll find plenty of familiar sentiments… and more. Everything is produced by a reputable outfit, with black tees that work under a sport jacket plus hoodies and wicking travel gear for life on the road. The site also has my honest and snarky takes on technology trade shows. Take a look at Tinyurl.com/TechAndTravelWear. Even if you’re not buying they’re fun to read and commiserate – and if you do buy something, maybe I’ll break even. If you want a style you don’t see, just email me and I’ll add it.

This article was written by David Danto and contains solely his own, personal opinions.

All image and links provided above as reference under prevailing fair use statutes.

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As always, feel free to write and comment, question or disagree. Hearing from the traveling community is always a highlight for me. Thanks!