An Idiot's Guide to Idiocracy

Everyone loves to lament the spiraling stupidity of our species. It is a universal pastime that unites even the most disparate ideologues. This, in part, accounts for the perennial claim that the 2006 B-movie Idiocracy is “the only comedy that became a documentary.” I am also guilty of palming my forehead and referencing this satirical ode to our cultural nosedive, but I've come to think of it differently lately. Could it be that we use the central conceit of this film to justify our own conceited decisions about middle-class procreation?

First, let me me say that I do not intend to cast anyone, educated or non-educated, rich or poor, as a villain. In fact, my argument is that Idiocracy-type classist thinking does that exact thing.

The central tenet of the burgeoning Idiocracy is that educated, financially-solvent people have stopped procreating because they are pathologically responsible in making their life decisions, while the ignorant masses are mindlessly mating with wild abandon. This culminates eventually in a nation teaming with their slack-jawed spawn who watch “Ow My Balls” on TV and elect a pro wrestler as president. However, instead of thinking of this problem as related to unequal access to education and opportunity, it seems the majority of viewers and film referencers respond with puffed-up feelings of a patriotic duty to spread their good genes to counteract the rising tide of stupidity. Apart from any intent by the filmmakers, it has become a rallying cry for a procreational arms race, and a justification for a vain middle-class to ignore issues of over-population and ecological stress, to say nothing of socieconomic privilege. Rather than see a mutual responsibility in shaping the values and opportunities of future generations, regardless of whose womb they emerged from, they see a simple-minded mandate to increase output of their own progeny to counter the swelling masses of idiots.

If we accept that less access to education, healthcare, family planning, and economic opportunity does relate to higher birth rates (as is implied by demographic transition models of development, as well as the effect of female empowerment on fertility rates), then we have already complicated this facile notion that “idiocy” is in-born. Instead, it can be understood as culturally constructed and enforced. A child born to backseat breeding bumpkins, if given the same nurturing environment as his or her upper-class counterparts, has an equal likelihood of contributing to the cause of human development.

Rather than have young professionals patting themselves on their backs and pregnant bellies, we should maybe work towards a shared responsibility for all children: even those not featuring our oh-so-precious genetic imprint. While I think it is laudable, responsible, and even selfless to forgo your own fecundity, I do have plenty of criticism for non-reproducing citizens who feel no duty to support future generations. Just as the short-sighted views of many breeding humans often hones their narrow focus on the somehow “noble” chore of raising their own children, to self-congratulate and wash your hands of humanity's fate just because you didn't reproduce is equally problematic.

Despite having no MiniMes roaming the streets, that does not mean that I shouldn't support public schools with my taxes, advocate for access to affordable child care, and push for other measures that do not benefit me directly. That's because – apart from just being plainly ethical – this is how we prevent the Idiocracy from happening. It is not by looking down upon the 'stupid' breeders or trying to out-breed them with our superior seed, but by realizing that their children are the future of humanity, and we should give them every opportunity to thrive. 

We know that the environment a person grows up in greatly shapes who they become. So why not focus on creating better contexts for human development? This means removing barriers to social and economic justice and equality. As we accomplish this, it will continue to lower crime and birthrates while also enabling more great minds flourish and contribute to the arts and sciences. Our best hope as a species is not adding to the problem of over-population with vain justifications of our genetic supremacy, but rather realizing that all of our fates are intertwined. In doing so, we might get further by collectively shedding the facile notion that “some people shouldn't breed.”

That means unselfishly caring about more than just your own kid(s), and it also means the childless need to acknowledge their social responsibilities too. Just because you didn't buy into the “children are the meaning of life” mantra often desperately repeated ad naseum by sleep-deprived parents, doesn't mean you get to withdraw from society. Much like myopic moms and self-indulgent dads, if your horizon of concern ends with your own genetic legacy – whether propagated or not -- you're likely something far worse than an idiot.

Mass[achusetts] Effect - PAX East 2015

My first ever gaming conference!

Just before the Penny Arcade Expo in Boston, I had hunkered down for an all-night binge of The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, desperate for even a tiny scrap of true gamer cred. Sure, I have tangled with some indie faves like Papers Please and Braid, watched completely spellbound as my girlfriend blasted her way through the complex universe of Mass Effect, cut my teeth on the brilliant and hilarious Katamari and Portal games, and spent many hours honing my Mario Kart skills to a level proudly approaching adequate, but I still hardly consider myself gaming literate. In contrast to true gamers, I am a dabbling neophyte studiously parsing insider jargon and laboriously piecing together canonical references, all the while awkwardly fumbling along with an octogenarian's dexterity and a toddler's depth of experience. Nevertheless, I jumped at the opportunity to travel for the first time to a major U.S. city -- during the annual reenactment of the Boston Massacre no less -- for this renowned gaming conference that boasts more than 50,000 attendees, many of whom indulged in painstakingly hand-crafted cosplay that included everything from terrifying armored robots to a fascinating array of multi-ethnic and gender-inclusive Links, a character freshly near and dear to my heart. 

Expo floor (Photo by Janice Hsu)

In fact, one thing I loved about the conference in general was its spirit of unabashed fun and non-ironic geekdom, which extended far from the endless glow of LCD screens and the sea of tabletop gamers on the expo floor... flooding the streets, restaurants, and public transit systems of Boston with a startling array of action heroes, psychos, and cyborgs. The conference also included a classic arcade, about 20 NASA control centers worth of PC gaming stations, a console gaming area, a diversity lounge, and high-quality musical acts specializing in interpretations of beloved game soundtracks. The latter included a classical guitar duo (Super Guitar Bros) and the Triforce Quartet, who as you may have guessed, are a traditional string ensemble. What you may not have guessed, though, is how virtuosic and beautiful the arrangements were. Who knew I would one day get chills from a rousing medley of Metroid scores?

L to R: Nathan, Lori, Jeff, me, Janice, Ben G.

What perhaps impressed me most, though, were the many panel discussions featuring game developers, academics, critics, voice actors, and other industry professionals. It was here that – despite already understanding video games as art forms with narrative complexity, didactic capacity, and social relevance – I started to get a much better sense of how game mechanics, character-building, and design aesthetics are used to thoughtful engage with a wide range of issues.

Tempers flare on the expo floor.

The first thought-provoking panel I attended was actually about artificial intelligence and robotics. At one point, philosopher John Searle's notion of biological naturalism was addressed, suggesting that the brain's “wetware” was necessary for true sentience. This then led to questions about the nature of human consciousness and whether the mind is basically just an information-processing mechanism that can be replicated by AI. To me, Searle's assertions refuting the latter seem to unnecessarily mystify the brain by claiming it alone is uniquely capable of eliciting the experience of cognizance... by unknown means, of course. But then again, I am judging his arguments from a half a panel discussion that I attended at a video game conference.

Janice & Oculus Rift (virtual reality). Incredible!

Another issue that came up in the Q&A dealt with the ethical treatment of transhuman intelligence and how that might also make us re-think our ethics regarding other forms of nonhuman sentience (i.e. animals). Could the shifting relationship between humans and AI lead us to reconsider how we relate to other species? Also, could robots suffer like other animals can suffer?

So many kinds of great.

Or perhaps a better question is: will they make us suffer? Naturally, recent dire warnings by Stephen Hawking about the future of self-replicating AI were brought up, but the panel – which included actual researchers in the field of robotics – respectfully dismissed these concerns on the basis that the current state of robotics is quite far from achieving the singularity... even given Moore's Law. However, I think that essentially saying “don't worry, we aren't there yet” sidesteps the question, leaving us blindly pursuing technology without considering its ramifications and trying to mitigate ill consequences. If you argue that Hawking is being prematurely alarmist, that doesn't actually refute his claims. It simply implies that we should hold off a bit longer before totally shitting our pants.

Me and my video gaming mentor

The panel on atheism (and conversely, the representation of real and concocted religions) in games was equally compelling, featuring developers from such notorious game franchises as Bioshock and Fallout. Interestingly, although they approach game design as empiricists, creating fantastical game worlds often necessitates supernatural problem-solving options, which in turns requires a thoughtful and non-judgmental treatment of religion and religious characters. Furthermore, Bioshock creator Ken Levine noted that any ideology elevated to the level of dogma can be as problematic as religion, such as in the case of libertarian orthodoxy. A strange and wonderful theme seemed to emerge from the discussion that alluded not to just best practices in world-building for game developers and others who engage in the creative process, but really anyone engaging in everyday life: try to understand rather than judge others, whether they be repulsive villains or god-fearing bible thumpers. The impulse to judge irons out compelling complexity by forcing everyone into a false and uninteresting polemic. As Levine mentioned, studying what faith versus faithlessness provides his characters leads to the realization that regardless, they are “both fucked in different ways.”

Starting the day properly with breakfast beers at The Friendly Toast

Empathy-building and the reduction of characters into clichéd types was a theme that came up in several discussions. For instance, one panel focused on the representation of transgendered individuals in games, as well as in the gaming community, and advocated for movement away from the typical stigmatization as villains or shallow punchlines. Another panel looked at the wider issue of diversity in sci-fi at large, asking why the universe tends to be so white and English. The tone here was optimistic about the direction games are beginning to take (although there is obviously a long way to go), with a new-found freedom within the industry to address touchy issues of sexism, ableism, racism, and colonialism. Game mechanics focused on conquest, authoritarianism, and gun-based problem-solving are being questioned, the notion of gender constructs as static is being cast aside, and all manner of culturally-biased assumptions and lazy speculations inherent to sci-fi tropes are being deconstructed in fascinating ways. Perhaps the biggest challenge is not only to think beyond the boundaries of culture and the prevailing zeitgeist (in order to better see these things), but to also hit that sweet spot where the narrative can be provocative and the world-building wondrous, while at the same time characters are relatable and the universe is comprehensible to the gamer.

Society is not ready.

This question of relatability was also explored in a panel on romance in games, which talked about offering alternatives to the usual "new love" and adolescent romance. Why not acknowledge that the gaming audience is definitely not all 14 year-old boys, and so you can provide richer and more diverse experiences with mature forms of love and complex relationships that would interest married and older gamers? The idea is that there exists many ways to create meaning and attachment to narrative, and that there has been overwhelming focus on falling in love, with less emphasis on the problems and rewards that come as you continue to be in love. Also, the grand romance narrative, in both life and in games, does not always work out, and there is also a push to get beyond the narcissism of game characters existing just for the game player. As one panelist noted, the “insert approval tokens for sex” mindset is hollow, dull, and sends the wrong message.

Using games as a teaching tool, whether overtly or as a secondary function, was a topic discussed on a history panel. Games offer a different kind of engagement than other creative products by putting decision-making in the hands of players, and when they are designed thoughtfully and accurately, they can be incredibly effective as a learning tool. In playing games based on historical events or periods, users learn firsthand the intended and unintended consequences of their choices, which can reverberate throughout many dimensions of gameplay: politics, religion, economics, etc. This affords a better understanding of history and why events unfolded as they did, as well as how things could have happened differently, undermining the perceived inevitability of history. Ultimately, formal students and casual gamers alike begin to see interrelationships among diverse game elements that correspond with real world concerns, and they themselves start to connect with history in a more visceral way. An example given was Dog Eat Dog, which is a game about occupation and colonialism in the Pacific islands, but also Assassin's Creed is a mainstream game franchise known for its attention to historical detail. 

Soda Drinker Pro: The most advanced soda drinking simulator in the world.

Another aspect discussed was bias in game mechanics, such as the classic example of leaving Native Americans out of Oregon Trail. More generally, they highlighted the need for more games to offer diversity in winning conditions: dealing with informal power and not just military domination. Having a game developer, a history professor, and the manager for digital and online learning at the Guggenheim Museum on the panel led to some really interesting synergies in how each discipline could benefit the others. Also, I think it was important when they made the point that games ARE historical texts that can be (and are) analyzed in the same was as any other media.

Amazing Cosplay (Photo by Lori Hansen)

In the end, the biggest thing I took away from PAX was not really a single epiphany or experience, but rather a scaling up of my respect for games as creative works with unique strengths and the potential to reach enormous audiences. My respect was also greatly bolstered for the gaming community in general, which displayed a level of discourse and reflection that belied much of the recent negative press regarding the “Gamergate” controversy. While I have heard women in the gaming community tell me of their firsthand experiences with sexist attitudes, it was heartening to see so much of that bullshit being addressed head-on, and with a high visibility of all the various gaming demographics that don't neatly fit the widely-held stereotype of a typical gamer.