Do video games harm society?

· Does the violent and sexual content of video games desensitize us?
· Can video games help us develop useful skills and cognitive abilities?
· Do social interactions in online video games devalue human company?
· What are the implications of the ethical systems of multiplayer games?

What is it that makes video games so much fun? This question of Joe Carlsmith’s seemed an obvious way to start the evening, and the group proposed several possibilities. They are in some ways in stark contrast with other parts of life; they allow one to “lose oneself” in the game environment. They provide a forum for friendly competition—who can make the best score?—and hence a possible avenue for gaining respect from others. The narrative structure of some games can also be appealing. Perhaps, though, their appeal is also related to the cognitive challenges they present.

None of these factors seems particularly unsavory, yet there may be reasons to criticize the role of video games in our culture. For instance, they make entertainment a more passive experience. The player is spoon-fed rules and environments, rather than needing to engage in a creative process. This fact led Joe C to suggest that video games are dangerous insofar as they can establish a mindless routine—in other words, they’re the “frozen food” equivalent of fun. The same concern is applicable to athletics. Participants run the risk of becoming receptacles rather than creators. There is always a point at which the learning curve stagnates. Society is undoubtedly harmed by such monotony. Or is it the case that at least some video games contain such depth that, like a game of chess, they may still promote creative engagement?

Our discussion next moved to the implication of video games for social interaction, beginning with the case of friends together in a room sharing a game experience as they might share a movie. Are social groups oriented around video games different from those based on other activities? Perhaps some of these games have unfortunate moral implications—teaching a black-and-white concept of morality, endorsing violence, and fostering impatience. And we can’t neglect the possible effects of their violent content: Although there is currently no measured statistical link between playing violent video games and committing violent acts, they may nonetheless affect our psyche in subtle ways. We discussed the potential normalization of violence, stripping away of moral content, and desensitization to real-world problems. Furthermore, the competitive aspect of these games can lead to implicit social approval, so their popularity may be self-perpetuating.

So do video games have any redeeming features? They allow us to develop various skills, including teamwork and analytical abilities. But perhaps their virtue runs deeper than that, particularly in the case of new “massively multiplayer online role-playing games” (say that five times fast!). Ben’s personal theory is that these games, through their complexity, may allow players to explore new ethical worlds and consider the ramifications of their actions outside the inflexible strictures of real-world society. They provide new avenues for self-examination, partly because they exist virtually (where the consequences of actions are transformed) and partly because they remove the distracting fuzziness of the real world. In a complex virtual world, a player is able to learn about himself (or, increasingly, herself) with more freedom and rationality than may be possible in reality. How the player chooses to put this new opportunity and information to use in real life is a question only he or she can answer.

Should we subject animals to dangerous experiments?

• Do potential medical benefits to humans justify inflicting pain on animals?
• Is an ape more valuable than a rat?
• What responsibility do we have to protect the lives of animals?

What rules apply to animals that don’t apply to humans?

For that matter, what rules apply to humans?

This week’s Roundtable discussion quickly moved to some of the deepest questions of morality. Before we can justify a particular treatment of animals, we have to determine what ethical value we associate with the animal’s suffering and death. Is suffering itself a moral ill, or are we only reprehensible when we actively inflict suffering? We don’t often walk into the forest to prevent the tiger from killing its prey—but some of us do protest killing animals in controlled situations, even if the benefit to humanity in those cases may far outweigh the benefit that the tiger gains from killing.

Perhaps we disapprove of inflicting pain on animals from an essentially anthropocentric perspective, as it may desensitize us to the value of life (with consequences for how we treat one another). But is that conception sufficient, or is it necessary for us to attribute negative moral value with suffering itself? If so, are apes (for example) endowed with moral responsibility?

It was generally agreed that our functional morality is derived by Bayes-type induction: We make instinctive moral decisions in a large number of specific cases, then extrapolate to broader principles. But in the case of animal testing (and other questions of bioethics), that approach may make us uncomfrotable. It forces us to accept, essentially, that “that which is, is good”—often referred to as the naturalistic fallacy. On the other hand, there may be no other solution. We may have to accept that changing circumstances change ethical perspectives, and that change is equivalent to progress.

From a utilitarian standpoint, we can accept that sacrifice is necessary—in certain cases, non-consentual sacrifice. Can we apply this standard to animals as well as humans, and is it applicable cases of life and death? Joe, though terrified by his proposition’s implications, suggested that if the danger of animal testing is desensitization, perhaps we ought simply to devalue that which we need to sacrifice. If we disregard an animal’s capacity for pain and the value of its experience, subjecting it to painful processes won’t detract from interhuman ethical practice. But what are the limits of such devaluation?

In the course of the discussion, our group generally established an inverse relationship between rigor and principle in ethical systems. The more comprehensive and rational a system seems to be, the more arbitrary its foundation appears. In cases like this, precision and simplicity may be mutually exclusive traits. Dichotomous thought experiments can bring clarity to moral judgment, but they often lead us to strikingly unfamiliar and uncomfortable conclusions. The underlying question of our discussion, though it was never explicity voiced may have been: “Are we willing to abandon our passion for the sake of reason?”

Nate Becker and J.S. Mill: “Yes!” PETA and Saint Augustine: “Never!” Nietzsche and the Godfather: “Forget about it!”

What makes art legitimate?

• Does a work of art have value outside its historical and cultural context?
• When is it appropriate to attribute significance to a work of art?
• What have we gained or lost between Renoir and Rothko?

Tonight’s discussion, which included such memorable phrases as “no-nothing boob” and “posters of kittens in bikinis,” opened with a YouTube video of Andy Rooney complaining about works of modern art in public spaces. His proletarian sensibilities were offended by the apparent lack of skill and care evident in these works. The Roundtable, however, generally agreed that craftsmanship is secondary to the meaning of art. After all, how can we know the quantity of effort, both physical and intellectual, an artist has invested in a work? Instead, perhaps, we should value art for its ability to influence our consciousness, communicate what is otherwise difficult to express, and capture social and cultural meaning.

Art, we agreed, is tangential to meaning. The medium is essential to certain forms of expression. Furthermore, unique ideas may emerge from the process of composition. But does art’s meaning depend on intention? In other words, is a work of art only legitimate insofar as the observer’s interpretation is consistent with the artist’s purpose? Joe suggested that the value of art is really democratic. The aggregated preference of individuals, he said, provides the only reliable metric. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and only the beholder.

What, then, should we the beholders consider in our valuation of art? Danie suggested that value is inextricably associated with experience. Its content provokes the observer through reference to the observer’s memories and ideas. The degree to which that provokative message resonates with the observer may provide a standard of judgment. On the other hand, some were uncomfortable with a pure relativist approach; instead, art may be directed toward an objective truth, and its success in expressing that truth is a normative criterion.

One way to avoid both the problems of normative assertion and relativism may be simply to judge art on its own terms—namely, as Joe suggested, to value art based on how well it accomplishes its goal. Of course, the meaning of a work may vary widely depending on context.

The final and most contentious subject of the evening was that of the explication of a work of art. Should a work stand on its own, or should we allow the possibility that external analysis (an artist’s note, an essay, or the like) can legitimately contribute to the work’s artistic meaning? If a work’s representation is verbalized (or even able to be verbalized), is its meaning necessarily diminished? Or can the verbalization provide an essential piece of the artistic puzzle? Or can we in fact consider the verbalization itself part of the piece of art?

Should the government infringe on personal liberty to protect public health?

· Under what circumstances can we justify mandatory quarantines?
· Should we require genetic testing for treatable conditions?
· Should we prosecute those who knowingly spread dangerous STDs?
· How important is the Bill of Rights during a public health crisis?

Because we of YSR aren’t necessarily experts in every field, we occasionally seek guidance from those who are more qualified to address a particular topic. This week, we welcomed members of the Yale Public Health Coalition to help us address this public health-oriented question.

The first question we tackled tonight was the constitutionality of mandatory quarantines. Would a quarantine violate the First Amendment and its provision of the right to assemble? Most of the participants seemed to agree that the purpose of the law, not its letter, is more important in this case—and its purpose could admit the exception of crisis circumstances. However, we also feel that there is great value in not restricting the liberty of individuals, and no law should be written with the express purpose of allowing such restriction (i.e. a mandatory quarantine). But no one disputed that some provision must be in place to allow the protection of the population, were it ever gravely threatened by an epidemic.

Neil proposed that the provision should not be explicit—quarantines should never be legally permitted, but Congress should have the power to excuse such extreme and illegal action after the fact if it deems the action to have been necessary. This scenario has several advantages. First, it does not allow the violation of personal liberty within the confines of the law. Second, it permits appropriate action to be taken under appropriate circumstances. Third, it subverts the panic phenomena—because public officials are judged after the crisis for actions taken during it, the public upon reflection will scrutinize the deprivation of liberty more carefully than it would be inclined to do in the midst of a national scare.

One objection to Neil’s proposal came from Phil, who argued that endorsing the breaking of laws could create a slippery slope. But in the case of a public health crisis, as Nate B. observed, government agencies may be more trustworthy than usual, since their incentive structure in such a situation is more closely lined with that of the general population. Still, we need to protect ourselves against the potential consequences of a mass panic, which could have drastic consequences for our system of liberties.

After solving the quarantine dilemma, our discussion moved to the prosecution of knowing STD transmission, particularly HIV/AIDS. Of course, knowingly infecting a sexual partner with HIV qualifies as reckless endangerment. However, the execution of this law is challenging (as shown in the case study of the Ugandan law) and has the potential to emphasize a stigma against HIV positive individuals. Furthermore, engaging in unsafe sex is a choice, which brings risks with it, and both partners may not be without fault. Perhaps it would make more sense, as Elah suggested, to apply civil (not criminal) law in these cases.

The final interest of our discussion was mandatory genetic testing. By subjecting the population to genetic tests, we might be able to decrease the overall cost of medicine (thanks to preventative care possibilities among other factors). We could also avoid the danger of, for example, airline pilots at high risk of seizures (I believe the danger there is obvious).

But no one was able to defend an argument in favor of mandatory testing rather than optional, subsidized (free) testing. Most people would voluntarily undergo these tests so as to increase their own quality of life—reminiscent of the quarantine discussion, individuals’ incentives are closely aligned with those of the general population. Of course this possibility essentially presupposes the application of a universal health care system—and that is a topic for another day.