They're Reading This

This is going to be a hard journal to write, since at no point during this novel was I not thinking something. The first 75 pages of this book were intense—really intense—a trend that continued for another 200 pages (I didn’t enjoy the ending). I’m not sure I’ve ever read a book that made me so consistently angry, depressed, and generally amazed. It’s easy to tell that “Little Brother” is a young adults’ novel from the characters, the story arc, and the general writing style. However, Doctorow expertly infuses it with an incredible number of profound ideas and startling information. So expertly, in fact, a dissenting view could easily categorize his work as propaganda or subliminal messaging. I, however, am not a dissenting view.

There was very little that actually surprised me, which is surprising in its own way. I understand how every element of the story could happen (except the romance. That was unnecessary, but I realize he was writing for teenagers. Which doesn’t make reading about 17-year-old sex any less awkward). I’m not sure if any of the technology in the book doesn’t already exist; only gait-detectors and WiFinders were new concepts to me, and even gait-detectors seem plausible. It even makes sense that game consoles will be free in the near future; all the money is in selling the games. I just hope this means the Xbox 360 will go under $200 in the very immediate future. More frighteningly, I had no problem believing in a world where the CIA, NSA, DHS, or whatever other iteration of the same institution could do that. I haven’t been living under a rock for the past 6 years; I know that kidnapping, torture, and suspension of rights is pretty much par for the course these days.

Which brings us to how very, very much this book made me absolutely furious. It has probably become clear by now that I enjoy a good debate, but even these have to follow certain rules to be valid (not from a legal or ethical standpoint, either, just logically). First, it is impossible to prove a negative. Second, an argument is invalid if there exists no situation in which it would be wrong. The first is one of the foundations of our judicial system: innocent until proven guilty, not vice versa. “Prove to me you are not a terrorist” is an impossible argument, which is why in a court of law it is the duty of the state to prove you are a terrorist. This directly leads into the second rhetorical issue in the book: the flaw of infallibility. “Yes” cannot be the answer to every question. If you find yourself giving the same answer to every question, you need to seriously reconsider how you look at the world.

“What do you think about foreign policy?”
“9/11.”
“What do you think about the sovereignty of the Constitution?”
“9/11.”
“What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
“9/11.”

Most frightening of all, to me, is how perfectly intelligent, well-meaning people can become absolute mirrors to these fundamentally flawed philosophies. In fact, halfway through reading the book I started expounding upon a lot of the more expository ideas in “Little Brother” to some of my friends, and was unequivocally astounded by their reactions. I could have sworn they were quoting Drew Yallow. And I will admit that it is at times very hard to put into words the value of privacy over safety, having unquestioningly accepted the former over the latter for so long. L’espirit d’escalier particularly applies in these situations.

This of course brings us to the other predominant emotion present in “Little Brother”: depression. In all the conversations I had with my friends “They can’t do that! They aren’t allowed to keep track of where we are and what we do!” is always trumped by “But they are doing it. And if I have to walk through a metal detector so they can arrest the guy behind me, what’s the big deal?” Faced with this kind of status-quo cultural and intellectual hibernation, I can’t help but feel depressed.

Even just writing about the I-don’t-have-anything-to-hide mentality makes my blood boil. Doctorow makes it clear that there is a difference between something shameful or illegal and something private. And yes, I would let serial murderers go free if I could be assured I got the privacy I expect. If the system can’t catch the serial murderer with due process, then that’s the system’s fault, not mine, and I shouldn’t be punished for it. Of course, if the system fails on too regular a basis, then that needs to be changed too. It’s all about basic utilitarian philosophy—the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Under no circumstance do universal screenings accomplish that, as proved by Doctorow’s explanation of the false positive paradox.

All this being said, I enjoyed three quarters of the book, even if I had to put it down several times to regain my composure. I learned a lot of things from it, a lot of things were put into perspective, and a lot of ideas were put to me in new ways. Of course, many of the claims in the book should be taken with a grain of salt, and bear further investigation. However, I am proud to say that after further investigation, I now have the capability to encrypt my IMs (even if no one I talk to does), and am working on encrypting my e-mails. I’ll post my public key once I get everything working.

Interactivity in MMOs

Interactivity is my single biggest complaint about the entire theory of MMOs. Games have a hard enough time making themselves a legitimate art without every hormone-crazed 12-year-old on the planet testing out newly-discovered profanities. While I believe wholeheartedly in freedom of speech, I also reserve the right to consider the speaker an absolute moron. That is why we have implicit rules, cultural norms, and unwritten taboos in the real world to govern how we behave. In this paper I will react to the questions posed in the assignment, namely, how MMOs differ from Times Square and how Lynn Hershman is…wrong.

Having been to Times Square (like, oh, maybe half a dozen other people in history), I can tell you that it is a mixed experience. On the one hand, I find it deeply calming. The sea of people seems something of a return to the primordial ooze, only in large scale. On the other hand, it’s dirty and loud and there are people with funny accents yelling at you because you just called the primordial ooze calming, what’s wrong with you? But it all seems to me to be an ordered chaos; everything that happens is simply a reaction to the things around it, causing new reactions in perfect Newtonian style.

The difference between this and an MMO is that an MMO world won’t collapse if people fail to adhere to what is expected of them. Therefore everyone gets to be the initiator. All action, no reaction, no consequences. The reactions, of course, are expected to come from the system, but the sheer number of people in an MMO all but completely mutes these effects. Nothing can truly change in an MMO, nothing can progress, and that is at the core of an MMO’s failure to be truly interactive.

As to Lynn Hershaman’s article, I consider it something of a tangent, but an interesting one nonetheless. I find her view of interactive systems flawed. To me, an interactive system is one that is meant to reflect real life in some significant way. Talking to a human being will always be the purest form of interactivity there is. To her, it seems that interactive systems are disconnected from the world at large, and contained within themselves. She views them as passive, things to be watched. I would call that a reactive system, since the reactions never affect the viewer in any way other than aesthetically. To the contrary, I believe an interactive system must respond in a way that evokes change in the user. Under this definition, single-player video games are more interactive than either Hershmann’s art or an MMO. The player acts, the system reacts, which evokes a change in the player’s action.

Interactivity is a difficult thing to achieve, and even harder to balance. Life is interactive by default because of, as I mentioned before, simple Newtonian physics. Art imitates life, and has been interactive since the first audience participation in Greek tragedies (again, Hershman shows us that not all art is interactive, but can be). Therefore I believe that games can also be truly interactive, in ways that are ever-expanding. I simply do not believe that MMOs have achieved this yet. Until we can find a way to structure MMO societies, with consequences that affect the user, not just the character, then MMOs will never truly be interactive.