The Myth of Redemptive Violence

Not normally the kind of subject I cover over here in my fanblog, but... this is absolutely fascinating, and bears mentioning everywhere.

Wikipedia article
An excerpt from Walter Wink's original essay on the subject

Even before I got to the point in the Wikipedia article where it mentions videogames, I was thinking, "this is my problem with most RPGs". Discovering this myth allowed me to locate the missing piece that's always eluded me when talking about how I think violence is too often assumed to be the default solution even in games that otherwise promote pacifism; how the concept of a "battle system" undoes the good that many games try to encourage through their storylines; how developers seem to be incapable of realising the conflict between their use of battle mechanics and the messages of their games.

They are incapable of realising it.

It's endemic. "Good arises only when you have defeated (the physical manifestation of) evil; therefore, beat the bad guy" is such a standard plot that even cartoons for very young children feature it. Sure, they'll include caveats so as not to appear too bloodthirsty, like the bad guy retreating while cackling "I'll get you next time!" rather than being killed, but the core plot remains: we mst conflict with the servants of evil, and we must triumph.

If I believed in Satan, I'd be up for saying this is Satan's biggest lie; I certainly now know how Christians feel when they make that kind of statement. Of course, the idea of Satan is in itself forged from this myth, from the idea that an entity can personify evil and that this entity must eventually be hunted down and destroyed, but the sentiment behind at least that statement-- that humanity has, for countless years, operated under the influence of a lie so seductive that the vast majority don't even know they're being seduced-- makes sense enough. We're pretty good, as a species, at telling ourselves lies; it's an unfortunate side-effect of the fact that we make sense of our lives through telling ourselves stories. We're good at telling ourselves that the current hated group of the day is really out to get us, that freedom isn't and by implication never should be free, that the good guys always triumph and, as such, if we triumph then we must be the good guys.

There's nothing wrong with good winning, but the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house, to quote one insightful individual. If we use violence to attempt to best evil, we only play into evil's hands; for there is no such thing as evil, really, other than our oppression of each other with violence in word, deed and thought.

I want to see society stop using the master's tools to try and dismantle the master's house. I want the lie that we should strive to fight evil, to maim evil, to laugh in the face of evil as it dies-- no, even to reluctantly glance back at the fallen corpse of evil, and say "it was regrettable, but it had to be done"-- to be undone. Because evil isn't a living thing; it's a concept. What lies before you is no more or less than the corpse of a being that was once alive, slain by evil itself. You can't kill evil, can't stick a knife through its heart.

And that disturbs people who've been raised on the myth of redemptive violence, because they feel powerless unless they can lash out, unless they can stab, unless they can subdue, because that's what society tells us winning is. And that's why we need to stop teaching people that myth, because it makes us feel sure that to do good, one must hurt evil, and leaves us feeling hollow when we can't hurt, when we can't attack, when we can't conquer. Most people would feel unsatisfied if they got to the end of an RPG and there was no final boss battle. We need the "satisfaction" of defeating our enemy. We need it because we've been raised on the myth of redemptive violence.

Once we recognise that this is holding us back, as a species, from resolving all of our problems, we'll finally begin to grow. I'm confident the world will come to realise it in time. After all, so many of you already do.

Peace won by the sword will fall by the sword. I've always thought this statement was profound; turns out I hadn't even realised the extent of its profundity until now. With one carefully-tuned phrase, Mir both echoes both the words of feminist writer Audre Lorde and attacks-- no, not attacks; she rebuts; see how easily it creeps into our language-- the myth of redemptive violence. Tellingly, she says this when you're about to kill her, when you take the bad path in AT1. Even more tellingly, perhaps, she says this even while preparing to fight you, even after a lifetime of fighting. She knows it's true, but she can't escape, because the myth is such a seductive one: just beat the ones oppressing you, and your oppression will be gone! But it doesn't work like that, because every act of violence is an act of oppression, and the oppressed, and those who cared for them, will strike back in turn; and on it goes.

This is the lesson Mir teaches. This is the lesson that, if you fight against her, she recognises yet fails to embrace the whole way, because someone has to drop the sword first; and if it's not you, why should it be her? Why should she concede? It shouldn't have to be any of us, we think, but it needs to be one of us, because, as the bad ending shows, otherwise the violence never ends. It needs to be one of us, even if that one is the one who was attacked first. Even if we're in the right. Even if we have every reason to want to fight back. Someone has to. Someone has to, or else no one will.

Huntin', racin', and chasin' the wimmins

So I decided that at some point I wanted to get a box shot of AT2 "in the wild", as it were, so I dropped by a GameStop while I was out yesterday to fire off a quick candid snap.

Sadly, it was on the top shelf, so I couldn't really get a great picture. It does, however, do a pretty good job of capturing all that's disappointing about the gaming scene these days. I'm not arguing that there aren't some great, fun, innovative new games being released, or that the games industry has completely sold out to the lowest common denominator, or something. It's just a particularly unpleasant spread, all said and done. AT2, with its "revamped", super-sultry NA box cover specifically designed to grab the hormonal adolescent's attention, sitting next to: a compilation of a series of racing games famed for their emphasis on reckless driving and spectacular, explosive crashes; the "Worlds (sic) Number 1 Hunting Games" (a double dose of macho, clearly: nothing like blatant disregard for the sanctity of life and the sanctity of grammar all in one package!); and a display box crudely enticing you to "cash in on your past conquests". Never before have I seen such a comprehensive example of how certain sectors of the games industry love to sell the idea back to gamers that they should think with their testosterone (because only men game, of course), not with their heads.

I'm not saying all of the things seen here are bad, and I don't think any of them are deliberately placed, or anything. The "cash in on your past conquests" boxes are all over the place, though that doesn't make them any more revolting (and the positioning next to AT2 is unfortunate); they're a slur against responsible relationship practice (and, given the male-targeted nature of most games advertising, almost certainly a slur against women) and a slur against seeing videogames as anything more than "conquests" all at the same time. (What happened to the idea that both one's relationship with a person and one's relationship with a videogame are precious things to treasure and carefully uphold, not to merely "trade in" the minute something new comes along?) And I admit to having played some of the Burnout games, and they're mindless fun in a cathartic sort of way; I don't think they're horribly amoral, or anything, especially since the emphasis is on blowing up machines and enjoying the explosive fallout, not thinking of them as containing actual people. Just, like I said, it's a sad spread. And I didn't really notice until I looked at the picture at home. It's an interesting snapshot to have captured of a certain trend in gaming in 2009, I guess.

Soul food from Japan.

I like that Shigeru Miyamoto considers the enrichment of our souls important, and that he thinks it can happen-- that it does happen, right here and right now-- through videogames.

You know, every so often I'll stumble across a screed by some games developer or another that waxes lyrical about their creation in terms that seem to suggest they truly understand the power of fiction to take people over, and see that as an inspiring thing: "we want this game to touch your soul"; "we hope you'll be transported to this game's world"; "please let the characters live on in your heart"; "don't let even death keep you from playing until the end!" Lately, in particular, I've been reading a lot of commentary from the singers responsible for the AT vocal tracks, who in many cases were also the lyricists and composers of the songs, and the breathless way in which they present their work makes it sound as if they believe their songs are one step short of truly being magic. Akira Tsuchiya, head of the sound team and ultimate mastermind behind the series-- I think it's no coincidence that a man known chiefly for his musical expertise is at the forefront of a project to which music is central-- talks in commentary of how the opening lines of the first game's opening song cast a "summoning spell" to draw us into that world. The singers call themselves "Reyvateils" and talk of how they can imagine that Reyvateils really exist not far from us. They repeatedly talk about wanting to flood our hearts and souls with the power of their songs.

Such unabashed, world-blurring love for their craft. And what I'm noting in all of this is that every time I've seen this utter sincerity and fervent hope that the players are truly drawn into the world, that they make it their home, that it will truly transform their hearts, that it can and should matter to them, it's from Japanese staff.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not going on a "Japanese art is superior!!11!" rant here. I'm just curious, because this seems to be a fairly consistent pattern, and I'm genuinely wondering if there's a mindset more encouraged in the Japanese culture that allows developers to bare their hearts about things like this (and possibly, has also encouraged otakudom to spiral to the heights it does there, even if such extremes aren't necessarily well tolerated). Because I really can't imagine too many American developers being this... touchy-feely about their games; the sense I've always got from interviews with directors of Western media has been "hey, we hope you enjoy it! Get out there and have fun with our stuff!" American developers talk about games in terms of fun, playability, challenge. Japanese developers talk about them in terms of heart, soul, idealistic concepts like don't let even death keep you from playing until the end, if you're going to love the characters then love them wholeheartedly and don't let go. I've never heard an American games developer express concern over how I personally bonded to the characters beyond perhaps "we hope you like the personalities we've created in this game".

And I guess, because that's the way I ultimately look at gaming, because I want to be surrounded by people who look at gaming that way, I'm curious as to what drives this. I'm curious as to whether it's the culture that inspires people to open up this way, or if it's a counterculture springing back from a society wound too tight. I'm curious as to whether this is everywhere, or just in gaming. I'm curious as to whether it's as common in gaming as I think. I want to know because, frankly, I could eat this kind of talk up all day, all month, all year, and never want it to stop.

Love them wholeheartedly and don't let go? I thought you'd never ask.