The Real Lessons of Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlein (Video Essay #2 Transcript)

Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlein.
A fantastic novel in the genre of military sci-fi, written in 1959.
And also a movie by Paul Verhoeven from 1997. And if you only know the movie, well… we seriously need to talk.

First off: I like Heinlein.
He’s one of those foundational sci-fi authors—smart, provocative, and unafraid to take unpopular political stances. He’s one of my all-time favorites and many of his ideas have shaped my current beliefs.

And Starship Troopers is one of his most important stories. It follows a young man, Johnny Rico, who joins the Mobile Infantry to fight a war against alien bugs.

When you read the blurb, it’s a simple military space adventure. But that’s not all you get from the book. Inside is a thought-provoking idea about how a better society could be structured. On the surface it’s a war story, but beneath that, it’s a manifesto. It delivers a serious argument for a society built on civic duty, personal sacrifice, and the idea that citizenship—true citizenship—should not be handed out freely, but earned through military service.

In Heinlein’s world, the right to vote isn’t a birthright.
It should be a reward for those who serve and sacrifice—specifically, those willing to risk their lives to protect society.
Put simply: no sweat and blood, no ballot.

It’s controversial—especially for modern societies built on universal suffrage. But it’s coherent. And it forces you to ask: Should anyone have a say in how society is run if they’ve never lifted a finger to build or maintain it through self-sacrifice?

Like many, I saw the movie first. I was a kid back then.
I remember the bugs, the explosions, the spaceships, and—yes—Dina Meyer’s shower scene – how could anyone ever forget that…

But when I finally read the book, I was stunned.
Paul Verhoeven’s Starship Troopers doesn’t just adapt the novel—it inverts it.
It turns Heinlein’s serious political philosophy into a cartoonish dystopia, leaving us with nothing but mockery.

Gone is the argument for civic responsibility. In its place, a satire of militarism was put. The movie is a shallow story about propaganda, fascist aesthetics, and the glorification of violence.

The movie says: “Look how ridiculous a militaristic society is.”
Heinlein’s book says: “This kind of society might be the only one that actually works.”

Nowhere does the movie engage with Heinlein’s argument.
It doesn’t debate it. It doesn’t refute it. It simply inverts it.
By inverting it, the film mocks it.

Funny enough, director Verhoeven publicly stated that he never finished reading the book. Quote: “I stopped after two chapters because it was so boring. It really is quite a bad book. I asked Ed Neumeier (the screenwriter) to tell me the rest because I just couldn’t read it. It’s a very right-wing book.”

And there we have it.

Hollywood was given an idea that it categorized as right-wing – and it rejected it without even reading the full story. Unbelievable.

It would have been fine for Verhoeven to read it, disagree, and formulate a counterargument. But he didn’t. Reading two chapters was enough for him to turn a blind eye and invert the story to fit his own beliefs – without them ever being challenged.

The film adaptation is therefore a textbook example of how Hollywood can take an intellectually serious concept and distort it into parody – out of ignorance and arrogance. The movie became a transformation—from a provocative political novel into a satirical action-packed spectacle – void of any argumentation.

It makes you wonder: How many other Hollywood movie adaptations have done this… without us even noticing?

Another adaption is in the works.
This time, Neil Blomkamp is attached—and he claims he wants to stay closer to Heinlein’s original vision. That’s promising.

But will it finally give us a film that stays true to Heinlein’s ideas?
I’m cautious.
Because no matter what Blomkamp states, at the end of the day—it’s still Hollywood.
And Hollywood doesn’t promote ideologies that don’t fit the mainstream narrative.

Even if Blomkamp delivers: Read the book. And see for yourself how Hollywood perverts ideas and arguments of great thinkers like Heinlein.

Amazon’s Wheel Of Time Cancelled

It’s now official: there won’t be a fourth season of The Wheel of Time (source). Amazon has pulled the plug due to a significant drop in viewership. The remaining audience simply doesn’t justify the production costs. This means the series will remain unfinished—essentially rendering the three existing seasons pointless.

After watching the first episode of season one, I already had a feeling this would be yet another streaming misfire. Just like The Rings of Power, the creators seemed convinced they could outdo the original author. Unsurprisingly, they couldn’t.

Why is it so hard to respect the vision of the original creator?

Robert Jordan crafted a rich, immersive world beloved by millions. Why would anyone think they could take that world and improve on it? All they had to do was follow the source material, and the fans would have supported it wholeheartedly. A perfect example of this approach working is Peter Jackson’s adaptation of The Lord of the Rings. He remained faithful to the books, and fans rewarded him for it—both critically and financially.

But no, the “creatives” at Amazon Studios thought they could outshine not only Peter Jackson, but Tolkien himself with their Rings of Power abomination. And now, they’ve done the same to Robert Jordan’s work. What a joke.

The cancellation of The Wheel of Time was well deserved. The Rings of Power should be next.

Maybe—just maybe—these studios will finally learn: if you want to tell YOUR story, then write one from scratch. Don’t hijack someone else’s creation just to piggyback on an existing fanbase.

My Video Essay Channel Is Live

I’ve always wanted to try this. But for the longest time, I hesitated, procrastinated—and eventually forgot.

A simple rule for life is: if you really want something done, you have to start as soon as possible. And you have to start where you are. Of course, there are exceptions to that rule, but most things grow best when you just begin and allow yourself to make mistakes.

Mistakes will be part of my project—maybe even a big part. But with each video I make, I hope to learn and improve.

My goals for this channel:

  • Improve my English
  • Learn more about video editing
  • Build an audience (and hopefully find some readers for my books)
  • Have fun talking about my favorite stories

The plan is to release a new video every week, diving into the movies, shows, books, and comics I love. Hopefully, I bring some fresh perspectives to the video essay space—ideas that haven’t already been talked to death.

I’ll try to share my progress openly on this blog, showing what worked and what didn’t. If you’d like to check it out, you can find my channel here:

So far, Rumble has actually brought my video to more viewers than YouTube. I’ve seen this before with my tutorial channel—I suspect YouTube has sandboxed my account. Years ago, I talked about German politics on another channel with the same account, back before that sort of content could get you flagged or (shadow-)banned.

It’s out of my hands now. YouTube does shady stuff that I can’t fix. And I’ve long given up trying to fix it. But the good news is: it led me to explore alternative platforms like Rumble. Maybe there’s an audience out there that I wouldn’t find on YouTube anyway. We’ll see.

Whatever the outcome, I’ll be uploading a new video every Tuesday—until either YouTube dies… or I do. Whichever comes first.

Write Better Books | A Lesson From Judge Dredd

In 1995, a big-budget dystopian comic action movie was released, featuring one of the most iconic characters ever created: Judge Dredd. It starred Sylvester Stallone at the height of his career and boasted an impressive supporting cast including Armand Assante, Jürgen Prochnow, Diane Lane, Joan Chen, and Max von Sydow. The score was awesome. The effects were top-notch for their time. It even featured James Earl Jones as the narrator.

So, what could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, a lot. The movie bombed at the box office, costing the studio at least $60 million. Adjusted for inflation, Judge Dredd may have lost around $130 million—making it not only Stallone’s biggest flop, but also one of the most notorious box office disasters of the 1990s.

Critics and fans didn’t like it either.

When I first saw it as a kid, I actually enjoyed it. It’s a typical ’90s action flick with sci-fi elements. Since I wasn’t familiar with the comic’s lore, I had no expectations and could just enjoy the ride.

Only later did I discover the comics—and that’s when I understood why so many fans disliked Stallone’s version. A general rule in filmmaking is this: when you’re working with great source material, don’t try to “improve” it. Your job is to adapt it faithfully, staying as close to the source as possible.

But there’s another important lesson to be learned from this film. It’s delivered in the very first scene.

So what’s wrong with this opening?

It breaks the most fundamental rule of storytelling: show, don’t tell. And it breaks another major one: it repeats information unnecessarily to make sure the audience “gets it.”

The real opening begins right after James Earl Jones’ narration, where we see Judge Dredd navigating the megacity and sentencing a criminal to prison.

So why include the narration at all if the next scene shows everything we need to understand the world?

The filmmakers didn’t trust the audience to grasp the setting through storytelling alone. So they added narration to explain the world—just in case even the least attentive viewer didn’t miss the point.

That’s not just insulting to the audience—it’s boring. And boring is the ultimate sin in storytelling.

If you feel you need a narration segment to explain your world, chances are you haven’t shown your world well enough. And if your narration simply repeats what is being shown on screen, it sends the message that even you, the storyteller, don’t believe your scene is strong enough to deliver.

If you don’t believe in your own work, why should your reader or viewer?

Why Stories Matter (Video Essay #1 Transcript)

Stories matter.
They matter so much, we’ve built entire multi-billion-dollar industries around them — movies, shows, books, comics, video games… Even religions are basically just built on stories.

But why do they matter so much to us?

It’s a simple question. We read them. We watch them. We grow up with them. But the real power of a story… is what it does to us.

Because when we read a book or watch a film — We become someone else. We become the characters. We feel their fears. We suffer their losses. We celebrate their triumphs. And without even noticing it, we absorb something layered deeper into the stories — it’s the ideas, perspectives, and beliefs.

Even Jesus spoke in parables — because he knew something fundamental:
Stories stick. They stick much more than simple arguments or opinions.

Jesus Christ and his stories survived for two thousand years and counting. Meanwhile, they created entire civilizations. And the ideas within them shaped the thoughts and behavior of countless people.

The stories of today?

They’re no different. They still carry meaning. They still deliver ideas, perspectives, and beliefs. They still shape who we are — and how we think. They even shape our civilization.

Tell a child that power and responsibility are connected… They’ll forget it by dinner. But show them Spider-Man? They’ll never forget: “With great power comes great responsibility.”

That is the power of storytelling.

If it’s done right, a story can teach you something you’ll carry for the rest of your life.

  • Luke Skywalker taught us that hate leads to the dark side.
  • Frodo showed us how power can corrupt the heart, mind, and soul.
  • And Titanic… well, Titanic taught us that even after decades of marriage, Rose would still rather think about the Chad she hooked up with on a cruise ship than her actual husband. – Man, what a hoe that Rose was.

Every story plants a seed. Not all of them grow. But enough do. And those are the stories that shape who we are.

That’s why we need to be careful about the stories we consume. We need to think critically about what those stories are teaching us — Because every writer, every director, and studio executive… is trying to sell us their ideas as the right ones.

Do we want a positive Star Wars that gives us a new hope — or do we want a nihilistic Disney Star Wars that tells us to let the past die and kill it if we have to?

Do we want stories that inspire us? Challenge us? Ground us? Or ones that numb us?

In the end, it’s up to the viewer. The reader. The gamer.

But the most important thing is this: We must never forget that stories are more than just entertainment. Stories are ideas. Perspectives. Beliefs.

Stories matter. They always have. And they always will.